Give me the first 500 words of your story for a critique

[Graymouse]

Huh. Well, thanks so much for the genereous offer. Hopefully you haven't been too overwhelmed with submissions yet. I hate crappy editing as much as I hate crappy writing--my own or otherwise--but you do a damn fine job so I really can't pass this up, even if I do feel a bit like I'm sending my kindergardner off to get his ass whooped on the playground . Thanks a lot. Here it is, slightly over the 500 mark. Oh, and I swear this does become an erotic story.


I’m taking a smoke break this morning, a fairly long one. Longer still when you consider that I don’t smoke. Not anymore, at least. But it gives me a chance to get out of the ICU waiting room and away from my mom, who is a two-dimensional ghost lately anyway. Not that you can blame her. Some people don’t do well with death.

There’s a bench outside the side door of the emergency room. The ground is littered with butts. On this particular morning, the sky above is flat and white and the leaves have gone dull brown on the trees lining the slope. It smells like smoke and rain, alternately fresh and stale. The nurses come out here between shifts and sit in the shelter that looks like a bus stop. I come too, often. Now I sit down and wait. On the circle drive that leads up from the road, a steady stream of ambulances and news vans roll in.

“Hey.”

The boy standing against the wall is so still I almost don’t see him. I hate being caught off-guard, so I come off sounding pissy and irritable. “What?”

He looks abashed. “Sorry. Do you have a light?” There is a cigarette in his hand, pinched between two raw, bloody knuckles. I frown and start rummaging through my jacket. My pockets are full of random crap—loose change, ticket stubs, ponytail holders, lip gloss—and it takes a while.

“Here.” I toss it over and watch as he nestles the filter between his lips. The lower one is split and bleeding. I notice a bloody welt along this kid’s temple and several rusty spatterings on his gray tee shirt. He rubs his cheek. “What the hell happened to you?” I say finally. “Not the school bus thing.”

“Huh? No.” He pauses to flick the lighter and takes a long draw, eyes flickering self-consciously. I watch and for a moment I’m jealous. Then he turns, limps the ten or so feet between us, and drops the Bic in my palm. At this distance, I can see the faint hint of stubble along his jaw, and decide he’s probably too old for school buses. At least by a year or two. He flops his lanky body against the brick wall and tries to shrug, I guess, but it comes out looking stilted and pained. “We got mugged,” he sighs and spits red onto the cement.

“We?” My eyes catch motion. A seagull picks about the base of the trash bin. I toss it a chip and it squawks once, snatches up the crumb, and disappears in a blur of dirty gray. There’s no ocean, but this place has lots of gulls.

“Yeah. My . . . my brother and me.”

I scan the watery sky, but for once it’s empty. “Where at?”

“Rogers Park.”

“That place is so ghetto. Figures. How bad is he?”

“Bad. He’s in there.” He tips his head towards the door. Around front, another ambulance careens up and splits the air with the banshee wail of sirens. Muffled footsteps crunch over asphalt and voices murmur; someone is shouting something. We listen in silence for several minutes. Down in the lot, the Channel 2 news van has erected its transmission tower on the roof. It looks like a giant metal skeleton against the white sky.

“You picked a bad day. It’s never like this here.”

“No kidding.”

“They’re pretty overwhelmed, huh?”

A nod.

“Any idea when they’ll look at you?”

He manages half a wry smile. “They’re only taking criticals right now. Maybe this afternoon.”

“Jeez. Why don’t you go home and wait?”

An ash drops from the tip of the cigarette. The smoke ascends in a silver spiral. The sea gull has returned, circling and circling in the washed-out sky and finally it lands again beside the trash bin. “Can’t,” he replies, giving another apathetic shrug. “My brother’s got the keys and he’s . . . “ He trails off. “Well. They’re working on him.”

I watch as he takes one last draw, the ember glowing orange and bright before disappearing beneath the scuffed toe of his shoe. Where are this kid’s parents? He looks at me and I see I’m mistaken. It’s not apathy. In the dark eyes that regard me, a well of cold, dumb shock looms. His hair is disheveled and looks slept-on, although I doubt he’s slept. Where it falls across his forehead, it mats in the gore along his temple. I don’t know him and I shouldn’t care but I do, at least a little. Or maybe I’m just bored.

 

[Whispersecret]

Re: Offer Accepted, With Thanks

From the moment that Chloe steps out of the taxicab in front of the elegant little boutique hotel just off Michigan Avenue in Chicago, it seemed as if every man is looking at her.

Singularity, the first thing you need to do is sort out your tenses. In the first sentence you start out in present tense. "Chloe STEPS." It's happening as we read. But in the same sentence you have "it SEEMED," which indicates something already happened.

You must be consistent.

I see that the majority of this scene is in present tense, but I highly recommend changing it over to past tense. Present tense restricts the variety of sentence structure in a way that I can't explain, and although it's all the rage now in the pop lit culture, but it's difficult to pull off well. Novices probably shouldn't attempt it.

Some people have trouble writing in past tense, so if you decide to take my advice, it might help to pretend like you're telling the story to someone over coffee.

Men scanning her face, their unabashed, envious gazes roving over her body. Eyes checking out her tits, her ass - sizing up her smile as if measuring her for a blowjob. Staring at her, leering, undressing her with their eyes. Fantasizing about the ripe, young, supple flesh on display - and on the covered, yet not hidden or concealed, parts of her body that telegraphed her openly flaunted sensuality.

You have some nice language and ideas here. Supple--good word. "...as if measuring her for a blowjob"--wonderful.

The choppy style of this paragraph (using the -ing phrases) is effective, but it goes on just a tad too long. I definitely wouldn't let it spill into the next paragraph.

"Telegraphed" and "openly flaunted" seem redundant to me.

Minds racing, trying to think of the perfect pick-up line, something smooth and sophisticated. Something witty and provocative, yet inoffensive. Not seeking the key to her heart, but hungrily craving a taste of her mortal flesh. Anything, any excuse, to get to speak to her, to know her, to seduce her - and to fuck her.

Like I said, the snippy style here goes on too long for me, but that's just my opinion. I'd fill out the fragments and make them whole sentences.

Avoid adverbs unless they're necessary. In this case"hungrily" seems like overkill when you have a spot-on verb like "craving."

No comma after "excuse."

The last phrase, "and to fuck her" might be effective as a paragraph on its own.

Chloe stands, motionless, on the sidewalk, taking it all in. She feels the hot, wicked, and perverted thoughts emanating from the men milling around her like wolves circling their prey. They radiate their intent like a beam of energy, transmitting their primal heat into Chloe’s luscious young body. Chloe reels from the intensity of the mental fusillade, her mind already drunk with her own passions and cravings. The entire core of her being is vibrating like a tuning fork, vibrating a single, high, pure note of hedonism and lust.

I don't think you need to bracket "motionless" with commas. They're not necessary.

This is a nice paragraph, full of some great images and comparisons, but are there too many? Could you maybe move the tuning fork idea (which is brilliant) to some other place in the story and let the wolf idea dominate here? Maybe change "beam of energy" into a phrase that continues the wolf idea?

This is picky, but I don't think you need "entire."

It is like this each and every time. It is nothing at all like what Chloe experiences the rest of the week. This is so special, so unique, so sinful, so wicked. God, how she loves it, how desperately she needs it!

You really like repetition. It can be a very effective device, but I think you're overdoing it. You put forth an idea and then bam, bam, bam, add phrases or sentences in a certain rhythm. Do you see what I'm talking about? If you don't, I can point out the specific places. I think you should figure out where you like it best and then reword the other instances so that rhythm isn't so, well, repetitive.

Today, like every Wednesday afternoon, Chloe has come here, come in search of what she has become addicted to, what she thinks about constantly, and what she desperately needs to make it the rest of the way through the week.

Here's that rhythm again.

I'm curious to see what draws her. I'm sure it's sexual, but I'm interested to see exactly what it is. Nice job of teasing the reader.

As she has each and every Wednesday prior to this, Chloe is dressed like the hot, nubile young woman she is. A woman who is young enough to still be experimenting with her sexuality and discovering new passions and new tastes on the tree of the forbidden fruit; yet a woman confident enough in herself and her body to show it off openly and proudly. A woman mature enough to know that when you find what you are seeking, you seize it and hold it close, even if it did not fit the conventional mores of society or come close to what most people would consider normal.

Again you have some (very long) incomplete sentences. I suggest you make them complete sentences. Incomplete sentences have their place in modern fiction, despite what your teachers taught you, but that place is limited. A style that relies on incomplete sentences is going to get tiresome to read.

The doorman opens the ornate, gleaming, steel and glass door to the hotel. The same liveried sentinel who had been there the Wednesday before, and the one before that. His smile and his twice-over look connote recognition. He remembers her from her earlier visits. Chloe wonders if he knows why she is here. “Of course he does,” she tells herself. “I am here for the same reason that many women pass through this entrance.”

I think there might be one too many adjectives describing the door.

He remembers her from her earlier visits.[/b] This is redundant. You've already indicated he recognizes her in the previous sentence.

Superficially, that is true enough; but Chloe knows with absolute certainty that her real reason for being here is far different from that of most women. She is here for a special purpose, one that would shock and repel most people. Chloe’s needs fall outside the boundaries of convention and propriety. They extend deep into unmapped territory, far beyond the limits of how far most adventurers will travel.

You use "far" twice in that last sentence. How about "differs" instead of "is far different?"

Ah, that tease again. I'm very curious. What's the shocking truth about Chloe?

Your strength is in your language and imagery. I envy you those two zinger similes! (I'm simile-challenged myself.)

But you need to refine the style a bit. Watch out for the repetition and your slight overuse of adjectives.

Best of luck, Singularity.

 

[Route66Girl]

Yes, absolutely! Worked for me

Whispersecret,

I think this thread is working very well! It's a good idea, and I can see why you're asking for the first 500 words only. It saves time for you since you have less to plough through, sure. But with around 500 words, you can get really specific with your comments. Also, giving us a dissection of the first passages is probably just as effective as critiquing the whole story, if not more so. Getting an idea of what's working or not in the beginning gives the author a chance to look at the rest of the story with a more critical eye on their own. It encourages self-editing.

Thank you for taking a look at the beginning of this as yet untitled story. Your advice has given me a really good idea of not only what to fix at the start, but where I'm going astray after that.

Here it is again with my response

Teenagers hate their hometowns. They look around and all they want is what’s not there.

"This town is so lame."

How true.

I must have uttered those words at least a hundred times as I was growing up in Kent River. It was a typical small town. Not much happened there.

Even the surrounding countryside seemed dull, as there was nothing but farmland. And only miles of lava rock fields and barren hills hemmed in those acres of potato farms.

I'd link these two paragraphs. It's all the same subject. Sure enough! Didn't see that.

It took a long time to really appreciate where I came from. I was twenty-three years old the early summer morning that it finally dawned on me how beautiful that country really is.

Nice hook. I want to see what happened to cause the epiphany. Thanks.

I was naked, the smell of sex still clinging to me. Propped up on my elbows, I lay back halfway on a scratchy wool blanket that had proven to be less comfortable than the ground we’d thrown it down on. Didn’t matter. I loved every sensation. I burrowed my feet into the soft dirt, wriggling my toes. Felt good. The smell of the earth flooded my senses, and the only sound that broke the silence was the soft chirping of a few nearby crickets.

It was still dark enough that stars filled most of the sky, but it must have been around four in the morning. The eastern horizon was taking on the telltale bluish glow of dawn.

This is terrific. Your casual style shines through with the fragments. I hope it continues throughout the story. The scene is beautifully set here. Phrases I especially liked: "the smell of sex still clinging to me," "telltale bluish glow of dawn."

"less comfortable than the ground we'd thrown it down on." This phrase seems awkward. I'd reword it. Also, you use "smell" twice in that paragraph. Unneccesary reptition of words is one of my foibles (just ask Rumple ) I'm getting better about it. Slowly but surely. Also, the blanket sentence felt clunky to me as well. I wasn't sure if it was just me, though, lol. Guess not.

About fifteen feet away from me, leaning up against his Harley, was Cole Jones. He was only a year or two older than I, but always had the demeanor of someone older than his years, even when I first knew him at age twelve. It’s difficult to say exactly why he seemed older. Maybe it was his voice, which was so low and gravelly… edgy. Or maybe it was his hair, at the time shoulder-length, which was so shock-blond that it almost looked white. Perhaps it was his eyes- a light, ice blue with a haunted glint in them that told you they’d seen far too much for someone so young.

Cole had never been tall, nor was he bulky. But his naked, wiry frame made an impressive silhouette against the sky that early morning. It was too dark yet to see his face at that distance - only the burning tip of a cigarette periodically lit up his features when he took a drag.

He leaned against the motorcycle in silence. I was quiet as well.

Again, this is just wonderful. I can see, smell, taste, feel it all. I am THERE. Great job. Love the cig sentence. Aw, shucks...

I don’t remember now, six years later, how that night started out. Had we gone out to dinner? Was that the day we’d taken his nephew and my niece out to see The Lion King? I remember that it was the first time I’d seen him in a long time. I’d just come back from… which place? Utah? Oregon? Wyoming?

I suppose it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that every time I’ve had one chapter in my life end and another begin, Cole Jones was there, suspended in limbo along with me.

That night, I’d clung fast to him as he drove out along the country roads, both of us thinking we knew how the night would end.

All right, here I'd cut a bunch of sentences. I don't feel they add much and make me want to scan. I'd go straight from "I don't remember, six years later, how that night started out." to "I suppose it doesn’t matter." I didn't expect that. When writing it, I thought that a quick look at what may have happened earlier in the night might give the reader some insight. But I did a quick draft yesterday of that part with the ommission you recommended, and you're right- the flow is better.

The next sentence is key, obviously, to your story, but I don't think it belongs here. That's another eye-opener. I wanted to have that sporadic facet of the relationship in place, narratively speaking, before things got hot and heavy. But perhaps it can work better elsewhere and not get in the way of the flow.

I don’t know what time it was when he pulled over and we stepped off the bike. I just remember how beautiful the night seemed, how peaceful it felt. I don’t remember, either, if we even spoke before he kissed me.

Sometimes repetition is a nice device, but it's not working for me here. There's so much that you don't remember or don't know, and it's bugging me a little. Maybe it just needs some juggling. Or, perhaps "Sometime after midnight, he pulled over..." or something like that would work here. I was afraid of that.

Get rid of "just." It's not necessary. Done.

The gist of the last sentence is great. Damned if I don't want to be you.

To sum up, most of this is terrific. The stuff I pointed out was really picky shit. Great job.

Thank you! You've given me a lot to work with, and I've been able to apply your advice throughout the rest of the story.

Sincerely,
R66G

P.S. I'm going to IM you, if that's okay

 

[Whispersecret]

You're very welcome, KM. Thanks for the thank you. That sounds dumb, but I mean it. I don't dash these critiques off in five minutes, as you know, and it's nice to know that the victims--er, recipients, appreciate my effort.

80niner, I can see this thread is going to get quite long. I'm already having trouble finding my way through it. I thought at first that it was just spur of the moment urge of yours, but then you followed up three times.

I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who would love to get your help. You might want to let them approach YOU, rather than vice versa.

Not everyone's writing needs THAT much cutting. Personally, and this is just my opinion, I think you wield your delete key with a little too much freedom. I'm a devout believer in tightening prose, but going too far can rob a story of atmosphere, flow, and
style.

Now, despite what I just said, my tender psyche is fine. I admit to feeling a little disgruntled, perhaps unecessarily. But I harbor absolutely no hard feelings. Just, you know, go start your own thread.

 

[Whispersecret]

R66G, you are so welcome! I'm so so glad that I was helpful.

That key sentence thing... Get someone else's opinion on it. It might be fine. I'm only one person. It didn't SCREAM at me, "Put me somewhere else!" But it seemed a tad out of place. Really, it's no big deal.

Again, thanks for the reply. It's that type of thing that's going to keep my motivation up.

 

[Singularity]

And the Excellence in Editing Award (Short Form) Goes To....<standing ovation>.

I want to thank you, first off, for the critique. It is the most specific and useful I’ve received, either on Literotica, or elsewhere.

And consistent with what the other grateful recipients have said, I can also vouch for the spot-on analysis.

The ‘tenses’ thing is something I struggle with. Others have told me that past tense is better, and in my mind I believe it. Now, if I could only convince my fingers to type that way!

The inconsistent tense in the first paragraph is an obvious oops. Shame on me.

The general tightening-up and removal of redundant words recommendations also help. It is hard to find some of these on your own.

And I agree that the style in these first few paragraphs is choppy and fast. I wanted to convey the sense that Chloe is in a pretty chaotic state, and is hearing and feeling lots of mental images and voices in her head as she enters the hotel. Trying to follow that old dictum of ‘show, don’t tell’, etc.

Perhaps I did overdo the mental-crescendo mood a bit outside the hotel, though. I’ll give some serious thought to how I might change parts of it to smooth it out.

Once she is inside, the tone changes significantly and becomes more regular. Now if you up the limit to 1000 words, or if you read the final version when it is ready, you can see for yourself. Otherwise, you will just have to trust me on that.

The ‘rhythm’ thing you point out is going to be hard for me to change. I like the sound and the taste and the feel of the words to help colorize and bring the story to life. I read each of the stories aloud to Michelle (the Michelle of the Training Michelle story series) and I find that, when spoken aloud, the extra phrasing just sounds so damn erotic to the ear.

Do you think it hurts to be consciously writing something that is intended to be read aloud, and listened to; as much as it is intended for the printed page?

I truly appreciate your taking the time. I will drop you a note when the great unveiling ceremony occurs. I hope the curiosity about what makes Chloe different keeps you up, sleepless and wondering and speculating, for many nights <grin>.

And please don’t be too disappointed if this one remains in present tense. I’ll try again to go into the past next time, promise.

Singularity

 

[Whispersecret]

Rumple Foreskin

RP, you have a knack at weaving together their actions with the dialogue. I can easily picture them cooking the tuna dish as they're talking. I see no glaring mechanical errors. However, I had some difficulties with this passage.

"It's just not fair."

From the tone of her friend's voice, Gwen knew Ann was only half-joking. "What's not fair?"

They were in Gwen's dorm room, preparing a supper feast of tuna fish au gratin on rye toast. "It's not fair that you actually met a good-looking single guy under ninety on that geriatric unit disguised as an ophthalmology ward," replied Ann, who was opening a large can of tuna fish.

I'm not sure why an ophthalmology ward would be a place where elderly people are. Am I missing something?

"And while you're making out with this guy,” she continued, "I'm stuck on a unit with a bunch of old farts who can't pee, and jive doctors who keep coming on to me."

"Don't exaggerate," said Gwen. She was carefully placing slices of rye bread in the combination toaster/broiler which was a fixture of her room. "Mark kissed me, once, that’s all. I promise you we haven't been 'making out.'" She was beginning to wish she hadn’t told Ann about being kissed that afternoon.

You've got a lot of "inging" going on. I do that too, but it's not something I'm proud of. Consider changing it from:

…replied Ann, who was opening a large can of tuna fish.
She was carefully placing slices...
She was beginning to wish...

to:

...replied Ann, as she opened a large can of tuna fish.
She carefully placed slices...
She wished

"Of course you haven't been." There was blatant skepticism in Ann's voice. "We all know making out with a patient would be incredibly unprofessional, especially for a lowly nursing student. Just tell me this, are you going back to see him?"

See if you can reword the sentence to get rid of the "There was" phrasing. Try to look for more active verbs than "to be." Like, "Ann's voice held a heavy dose of skepticism." Or, "Ann’s skepticism did not go undetected."

I’m not that savvy about nursing schools, but do they have dorms?

"You and I are just Nurse Techs for the summer, remember? So if I'm assigned to his room, I’ll go back."

This sentence seems a little stilted, like it's only there to get across some information to the reader.

"And you're always assigned to his room, right?"

"Well, okay, I usually am," conceded Gwen. She pulled out the toast and began spreading on mayonnaise.

Usually you don't need to say "began to," "started to," etc. It's stronger to just have them do it. There are exceptions, but 98% of the time you can cut those extraneous words.

"Which means you'll be going back. And when you do go back, you two will end up kissing again.”

I'm not sure why Ann is so opposed to her friend/roommate finding a guy. I find myself not liking her. She started out fine, sort of teasing, but somewhere along the way she started sounding irritated. Is this your intent? Women are usually supportive of each other’s love lives. That’s not to say they’re sometimes not competitive, but if Ann and Gwen are friends, they’d be rooting for each other.

Gwen tried to ignore the tiny quiver in her stomach. The problem was, her friend might be right. At the moment however, Ann's logic was not what she wanted to consider so she changed the subject. "What's wrong with these doctors who keep making passes at you? Are they married or creeps or what?"

"Oh, they're no creepier than most other doctors, I suppose," said Ann while piling tuna fish on two pieces of rye toast. "And I think one is single. The problem is, they're all white. And you know how I feel about dating white guys."

Just like KM's narrator turning out to be female, Ann's being non-white comes as a complete surprise to me. Perhaps you should give a hint of that earlier on. Perhaps through her dialogue?

OH. It just occurred to me that Ann COULD be white and just not want to date white men for some strange reason. Either way, I’m confused instead of curious.

OH again. I went back and found where she said “jive doctors.” Do young people use the term “jive?” That sounds like a seventies term to me. If Ann is supposed to be black, I don’t think you’re quite getting the dialogue right. Try having Ann refer to Gwen as “girlfriend.” Also, sorry if this seems prejudiced, but Ann doesn’t seem like a very black name. It might help clarify her ethnicity to have a name suggestive of her heritage.

This could be just me, but I’m having trouble keeping the two characters straight in my head. It could be the fact that their names are vaguely similar (one-syllable, ending in n), they’re both nurses, they’re both doing the cooking… I’m not getting too much in the way of differences between them in their demeanor, speech, physical description (has there been any?). You might want to consider defining them a little more as characters.

Also, granted my father's a doctor, but why does Ann think most doctors are creeps? Maybe some explanation is needed. Are the doctors always treating her like shit? Are they overly superior, exhibiting the God complex, etc.? Give me some reason why she feels the way she does.

After positioning cheese slices on top of the tuna, Gwen placed the concoction back in the toaster oven. Turning around, she gave her friend a concerned look. "You've mentioned that before, about not dating white guys, but you've never said why. I mean it's none of my business. It’s just that Robin, Sue, and I are white; and we're your friends, aren't we?"

Again, this seems like a strange relationship. How long have they been friends? In my experience, women usually share this type of thing with each other.

"True, but the last time I checked, I'm not dating any of you. Although with the luck I've been having lately with dudes, you're beginning to look better and better, child," said Ann, giving Gwen a lascivious grin.

“Dudes” and “child.” Maybe your story is set in the seventies…? If it isn’t, you might want to ask someone more knowledgeable than I am to help you fix her dialogue so she sounds authentic. Unless you’re purposely making her sound non-ethnic.

"Get away from me, you deviant," laughed Gwen, waving a mayonnaise covered dinner knife in Ann's direction. "My mama warned me about girls like you."

Rumple, I hope I haven't been too brutal. I promised straight-shooting. Remember, this is just my opinion, and I am only one person. I do sincerely hope this helps you.

 

[Whispersecret]

Re: And the Excellence in Editing Award (Short Form) Goes To....<standing ovation>.

I want to thank you, first off, for the critique. It is the most specific and useful I’ve received, either on Literotica, or elsewhere.

And consistent with what the other grateful recipients have said, I can also vouch for the spot-on analysis.

You're very welcome.

The ‘tenses’ thing is something I struggle with. Others have told me that past tense is better, and in my mind I believe it. Now, if I could only convince my fingers to type that way!

JUST DO IT.

The general tightening-up and removal of redundant words recommendations also help. It is hard to find some of these on your own.

Amen to that, bruddah. Don't I know it.

And I agree that the style in these first few paragraphs is choppy and fast. I wanted to convey the sense that Chloe is in a pretty chaotic state, and is hearing and feeling lots of mental images and voices in her head as she enters the hotel. Trying to follow that old dictum of ‘show, don’t tell’, etc.

Perhaps I did overdo the mental-crescendo mood a bit outside the hotel, though. I’ll give some serious thought to how I might change parts of it to smooth it out.

Well, remember, it's just my opinion. There's a multi-published author who has two novels and a short story I've read, and I couldn't abide her overuse of the one sentence paragraph for emphasis. Other people rave about her work. I couldn't stand it. But she's published...<shrugs>

Once she is inside, the tone changes significantly and becomes more regular. Now if you up the limit to 1000 words, or if you read the final version when it is ready, you can see for yourself. Otherwise, you will just have to trust me on that.

Ain't gonna happen! God, 500 words is taking about an hour or more anyway.

The ‘rhythm’ thing you point out is going to be hard for me to change. I like the sound and the taste and the feel of the words to help colorize and bring the story to life. I read each of the stories aloud to Michelle (the Michelle of the Training Michelle story series) and I find that, when spoken aloud, the extra phrasing just sounds so damn erotic to the ear.

Do you think it hurts to be consciously writing something that is intended to be read aloud, and listened to; as much as it is intended for the printed page?

Hmmm. Well, poetry is intended to be read aloud, but erotic fiction...? I'm not sure. I've never read anything out loud to my husband. But I know that there are plenty of people who do. I don't think you can assume that people will read it aloud. If you want people to read it aloud, you might want to include a little note to that effect at the beginning of the story.

And please don’t be too disappointed if this one remains in present tense. I’ll try again to go into the past next time, promise.

Oh, please. I have no problem with anyone here not agreeing with my points of view here. These are your stories to do with as you see fit. As long as the authors seriously consider my comments and have valid reasons for disagreeing, that's perfectly fine.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

RUMPLE REGOUPS

WS,

Many thanks for the feedback. I’ll try to explain (not defend) some of items you mentioned, such as the uncertain time setting which you brought up several times.

The story is set in the summer of 1970 in NYC. In the paragraphs that immediately follow this excerpt, they watch a “Star Trek” re-run on Gwen’s black and white TV while eating, “Tuna Fish Au Gratin on Rye Toast ala Bellevue School of Nursing.”

With luck, this dating explains some of the dialogue problems such as , “jive," and, "dude,” you noted. However, considering the amount of confusion the issue caused you, I’m going to look at bringing up the date a little sooner.

--

WS: I'm not sure why an ophthalmology ward would be a place where elderly people are. Am I missing something?

RF: In this age of managed health care, there are no ophthalmology wards. Back when they still existed, the bulk of patients were past middle age since that group suffers more from the very common problem of cataracts and diabetes related eye conditions.

--

WS: You've got a lot of "inging" going on. I do that too, but it's not something I'm proud of. Consider changing it from:

…replied Ann, who was opening a large can of tuna fish.
She was carefully placing slices...
She was beginning to wish...

to:

...replied Ann, as she opened a large can of tuna fish.
She carefully placed slices...
She wished

RF: Will do. Many thanks. Maybe it’s just the way my little pointed head works, but examples really do help.

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WS: See if you can reword the sentence to get rid of the "There was" phrasing. Try to look for more active verbs than "to be." Like, "Ann's voice held a heavy dose of skepticism." Or, "Ann’s skepticism did not go undetected."

RF: Will do.

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WS: I’m not that savvy about nursing schools, but do they have dorms?

RF: To quote an old hymn, “If it were not so, I would have told you.” At the time, special dorms for RN level nursing students, especially those in three year, hospital run diploma schools, were the norm. Since then, most of those programs have been replaced by college run, bachelor degree granting programs, which treat students in nursing like all the other undergrads when it comes to housing.

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"You and I are just Nurse Techs for the summer, remember? So if I'm assigned to his room, I’ll go back."

WS: This sentence seems a little stilted, like it's only there to get across some information to the reader.

RF: I agree, approximately 100%, and I’m still struggling with the sucker.

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WS: Also, granted my father's a doctor, but why does Ann think most doctors are creeps? Maybe some explanation is needed. Are the doctors always treating her like shit? Are they overly superior, exhibiting the God complex, etc.? Give me some reason why she feels the way she does.

RF: I may throw in a line about her having the tradition student nurse attitude toward doctor’s, especially interns and residents.

The answer to all your questions is, yes. It may be better in this day and age. But the negative attitude was based on several factors. Most of the young doctor types were overworked, insecure, horny guys; most of the student nurses were young females in an age when the women’s liberation movement was picking up steam. Getting constantly “hit on” or overhearing two residents refer to nurses as “para-professionals” can also give you an attitude.

There were/are many “good guys” among the medicos. But nurses and, most especially, student nurses, tended to presume guilt until a doctor proved himself innocent.

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WS: I'm not sure why Ann is so opposed to her friend/roommate finding a guy. I find myself not liking her. She started out fine, sort of teasing, but somewhere along the way she started sounding irritated. Is this your intent? Women are usually supportive of each other’s love lives. That’s not to say they’re sometimes not competitive, but if Ann and Gwen are friends, they’d be rooting for each other.

RF: This is probably a function of my imperfect effort to turn a chapter from my first novel into a short story. Ann is black in an age of growing black militancy. The heart of the story is her telling Gwen about why she won’t date white guys (sexual exploitation by a white h/s teacher). Gwen’s guy is not only white, he’s from the south.

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WS: Rumple, I hope I haven't been too brutal. I promised straight-shooting. Remember, this is just my opinion, and I am only one person. I do sincerely hope this helps you.

RF: You were a pussycat in comparison to an oft-published friend of mine who first worked over the chapter preceding this one in which Gwen is kissed. Her feedback was frank, heartless, uncompromising, and the best help I’ve ever received. I’ve thanked her many times since, and I thank you now.

If you have any other questions or additional thoughts, please don’t hesitate to e-mail or PM me. Also, please let me know if there’s ever any similar task I can do for you.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Whispersecret]

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