Mom/Son Story Idea

[drksideofthemoon]

You might want to read the revisions.

I have read the revisions. Your characters are plastic, and shallow. You are too concerned with what they are, and not concerned enough for who they are.

You haven't given us a reason for the mother to be attracted to the son or vice versa.

If your goal is to simply write a stroke story, then it might work with a certain audience. If you are looking for anything more than that, then I stand by my previous statement that your plot is extremely weak.

 

[Sherry Hawk]

I have read the revisions. Your characters are plastic, and shallow. You are too concerned with what they are, and not concerned enough for who they are.

You haven't given us a reason for the mother to be attracted to the son or vice versa.

If your goal is to simply write a stroke story, then it might work with a certain audience. If you are looking for anything more than that, then I stand by my previous statement that your plot is extremely weak.

Ooh, now you're going to get called "jealous" too.

 

[slyc_willie]

Jealousy gets you no where.

That would be 'nowhere.'

Many authors think too highly of themselves once they've been published. And being published means little as regards their actual skill at writing. Patricia Cornwell is an excellent example, as is Anne Rice. Many readers will expouse the strength and virtues of their ability to tell a story, but when you really look at their writing . . . eh.

But then, that's just me. And, a few million others . . . .

You asked for advice. You welcomed, and adapted to revision. Then, suddenly, you turned about and lashed at those who offered criticism without direct support. Don't you know that your ego can't get in the way of your writing? Listen to it all, take it in stride, and don't get defensive.

You may have been published, but you do have a ways to go before being readable.

This is not insult. I suggest you go back through the thread and read every post with an open mind, one not ruled by ego. Not everything you read will apply, but at least consider it.

By the way . . . you are getting better

 

[elfin_odalisque]

Hate to tell you, but it's still an incomplete sentence, and it makes you look ignorant as to the rules of grammar.

Err, just MHO, but shouldn't that be '... appear ignorant of the rules of grammar.' ?

Raven, I have no great objection to using incomplete sentences where appropriate. They can add emphasis and are creeping into a lot of fiction and even the op-ed pages of newspapers.

I think you overuse the trick which, coupled with your short sentences, gives a staccato effect at times. You must be careful though. I had a coffee-spluttering moment with;

His mom was already there waiting on coffee with her long reddish hair hiding her face. Curly and past her shoulders.

The adjectival phrase has to relate to the last noun mentioned; face - which is not what you mean. If her face was curly and past her shoulders, no wonder she got jibes.

You might do better with something simpler here like, '... with her curly red hair hiding her face and tumbling over her shoulders'.

Just a question. If he's on summer vac from law school, he's what, 22 or 23. She is a qualified lawyer and is 38. Doesn't quite stack up, does it?

As Slyc and Jenny said, it is getting a lot better. As far as I can see, the comments here are aimed at helping your writing and not intended as taking a pop at you. Just go through the comments, use what you find helpful and let the rest go by.

My advice, for what it's worth, is to push on with the plot. The start is still a bit muddled but leave it for now. It will be easier to reshape when the draft story is written and you must be getting real bored with starting at square one all the time.

The use of dialog makes things more interesting but you might consider using it more to develop the characters. Mom is liberated and happy in sexy lingerie at home but reverts to staid middle-aged clothes in public. Perhaps the son has to argue a lot more to convince his mother that she is still attractive. Then, finally, she asks him to go shopping with her - kind of role reversal. At present there isn't enough tension between them.

 

[Jenny_Jackson]

My advice, for what it's worth, is to push on with the plot. The start is still a bit muddled but leave it for now. It will be easier to reshape when the draft story is written and you must be getting real bored with starting at square one all the time.

Before someone jumped in and started a pissing match, isn't that what I said like 10 posts ago?

 

[elfin_odalisque]

Before someone jumped in and started a pissing match, isn't that what I said like 10 posts ago?

Must be cos you're so quiet and ladylike. Us rampagers for the truth and perfection just leave you behind in our wake.

No, you're right. Iwas just trying to pull things back to the subject.

 

[ravensfx]

Revisions

Matt woke up on a sunny Saturday morning at about six o’clock. Shafts of light came through the wooden blinds illuminating his room. He had got in late. Not late enough to keep his schedule. His mom was already asleep so he just went to bed. The sun was nice on his skin as he stretched before the huge bay windows. He slipped on some boxers. They were cotton. Not bad. Mom must have bought some clothes for him for college. She must’ve been busy he thought as he brushed his teeth looking in the lighted mirror. His mother was sexually liberated and didn’t mind near nakedness around the house so the boxers were enough. She walked around the house in lacy camisoles or silky gowns in the morning. He just sat around the house in boxer shorts.

He walked groggily into the terrazzo-floored kitchen. His mom was already there waiting on coffee with her face hidden by her whimsically, curly reddish hair bred just past her shoulders. She was just standing there in a satin red gown with a black lacy bodice, which didn’t hide her long legs he loved so much or much else. He studied her for a moment from the shadow of the doorway. She had her hands on the counter looking down so she didn’t notice he had come in. It was easy to view her pear-shaped breasts through the lace as the hugging gown clung to her taught body; her long jogs in the morning along the winding roads kept her toned.

She was decadently noticed by everyone including his friends at her surreptitious age of thirty-eight; only her maturity when she talked or her confident walk ever revealed her some semblance of her real age. After his father died a year ago, he was glad she moved where nobody knew them since his friends wouldn’t linger, ogle really, when she went to the beach with him. He really didn’t want to hear she was hot from one his testosterone-fueled friends every time she was around. She was his best friend not some sex object to fulfill their never-ending lust.

He snuggled up behind her with his arms around her firm waist, kissed her on the cheek, and sweetly said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, touching his strong arms with her silken fingers accentuate by dalliant red fingernails. “Sorry I wasn’t up last night. We had some corporate function for new clients.”

“Cate, no problem.” he said, with his baroque voice shattering the shimmering silence of her luscious figure standing there. She didn’t jostle easily. Her penchant for horror movies and being a shark in the legal world made her infrangible. “I hit the sheets as soon as I got in. You know how long drives tire me out.”

His body molded into hers. She smelled nice. Probably her strawberry shampoo. She had to feel his hardness against her. He let go not wanted her to think anything; maybe not wanting him to think anything. She was liberated but not that liberated. She did feel it hoping he would move away. Last night didn’t give her any opportunity to play with herself. Even though he was her stepson, she didn’t want their relationship going past anything to ruin their closeness. Yet, he felt good against her aching body. The long run was tough yesterday. Her body was just a little tired. She should have skipped the run she was paying for this morning. It was ruthless on her shapely figure until she lounged in the hot tub to soothe out the pain.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept fine,” he said, massaging her shoulders with his soft yet strong hands; the tanning lotion kept them soft. “You seem pretty tense. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get this.”

“I’d rather have the massage,” she said, yielding to his strong fingers.

“Didn’t sleep well?” he asked. “You work too much. Gotta have fun.”

“Yeah, I guess it is time I dated. It’s been a long time. I’m just not sure what I want.”

“Well, you won’t get it with those dour suits. You’re a beautiful woman. Men are easily intimidated by a strong-willed woman. Stop drinking Cognac every night alone.”

“I hate the bar scene. It’s just a bunch of desperate and horny men and women. Never was into one-night stands or a fling.”

“Make them chase you by wearing skirts above the knees. Be a little less conservative and it’ll happen. A few changes and you’ll be sexy and charming without thinking about it.”

“That easy, huh?”

“A few new outfits and you’ll be a prim and proper sex object,” he said with a devilish grin.

His kissed her shoulder and she sat down on one of the one of the oak chairs at the small kitchen table. She barely ever went into the formal dining room. He handed her a cup of coffee perfectly adorned with just a touch of sugar and cream. She loved lattes so he had topped it off with some whipped cream and cinnamon. His was black. Despised sugar and wanted it hot. Two cups and he was done. His mom had four or five. Revved her up and gotten her ready for the day.

“Oh, thanks for the roses. I haven’t gotten those in awhile.”

“Least I can do for a mom putting me through law school,” he said. Her green eyes were a little fatigued from last night’s Cognac. She always had several before going to bed. Yet her milky skin touched with a little rouge highlighted her heart-shaped face framed by her long, curly locks. Her pink lipstick stained the edge of the white coffee cup. As soon as she woke-up, she did her hair and expertly applied her makeup so she could enjoy the morning. “And, they always make you happy.”

“It was sweet to find them on the pillow next to me.”

“I figured a rose for a rose.”

She finally blushed. He loved that more than anything. She tried to hide it behind the coffee cup. It didn’t work. He knew how to make her blush with crimson remarks. He had been doing that since he was a teen. His father didn’t compliment her after they were married that much so he did. And, he did it since his father was always working; his patients seemed to mean more to him that they did. She always made the time and didn’t impose a ton of rules on him like dad did. He never knew his birth mother since she died when he was young. Cate was really more an older sibling that a mom. But, he called her that mostly till his father died of a heart attack a couple of years ago. She was quite disheveled so he skipped six months of school. After that, their relationship deepened only that much further since they told each other everything, almost everything.

“What kind of outfits?” she asked, sipping coffee and her skin getting warm. “I have to be professional you know.”

“Just something sexy to get you in the mood and easily disposed of without thinking. We should go shopping. I know quite a few women your age that stand out and are still classy. You wear some of it around the house so why not to work?”

She sipped coffee and knew it was true. She had been holding back. Looks came and she didn’t acknowledge them. It was time to move on from the death of her husband. Why not let her best friend let her know how to be sexy outside of home. They talked about everything else.

“Okay, let’s go shopping this afternoon.”

“You serious?”

“You’re serious about all those women my age,” she asked. Both hands on her cup favoring her authority. “Unless you’re lying.”

“Not at all.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Over breakfast. I left an outfit on your bed.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Well, I learned it from you. I’ll always admire you for that. And, you always made me feel better no what.”

“That’s my job.”

“Since dad died, it’s my job to take care of you now.”

“I still can’t believe how well you came though for me after that,” she said, finally waking up; “It was a tough year for the both of us,” he said. “I had already been through it once before so it was easier somehow.”

“I never worried about you for some undiscernable reason. You always had it together. I wished you lived here so we could be together more often. Phone calls just don’t do it.”

“Yeah,” he said then sipping some coffee. “You’ll be happy to know my application was accepted up here. Not going back to California.”

“Well that’s a surprise,” she said, nearly dropping her cup. “You never said anything about changing schools.”

“They have a better law program here. It was supposed to be a surprise for dinner tonight but no reason not to tell you now. The scholarship will pay for everything. Just want to move back in.”

“Sure, that would be wonderful to have you around rather than in some dorm.”

"We better get going to breakfast. I put the clothes are on your bed," he said, assuming everything as usual. “I bought them in California.”

“Okay,” she said, walking out the door wondering what he bought.

 

[cloudy]

not my thing, and I still think that the characters are too perfect, but here's just a couple of things that jumped out at me:

"decadently noticed" doesn't really make sense to me. If you like it, fine, but it's just jarring. Something may be decadent, but used in this way it just seems off.

"surreptitious age" definitely doesn't make sense.

surreptitious:
1 : done, made, or acquired by stealth : CLANDESTINE
2 : acting or doing something clandestinely : STEALTHY

How can her age be stealthy or clandestine? I think I get what your aiming for, but another word would be a much better choice.

"dalliant" isn't a word at all. It doesn't exist.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Well, here's my 2 cents worth...

He had got in late. Not late enough to keep his schedule. This makes no sense at all.

He slipped on some boxers. They were cotton. Not bad. I found this series of sentences clumsy. Why not rewrite it as 'He slipped on some cotton boxers and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He nodded his head in approval. "Not bad."

His mom was already there waiting on coffee with her face hidden by her whimsically, curly reddish hair bred just past her shoulders. I don't think the word "whimsically" fits in the description of her hair. Maybe describe how her hair looks to him.

After his father died a year ago, he was glad she moved where nobody knew them since his friends wouldn’t linger, ogle really, when she went to the beach with him. This is rather confusing sentence.

“Good morning,” she said, touching his strong arms with her silken fingers accentuate by dalliant red fingernails. It should be accentuated by ? fingernails, was the word you were looking for brilliant?

“Cate, no problem.” he said, with his baroque voice shattering the shimmering silence of her luscious figure standing there. She didn’t jostle easily. Her penchant for horror movies and being a shark in the legal world made her infrangible. “I hit the sheets as soon as I got in. You know how long drives tire me out.” This is a disaster. Baroque is used to describe furniture, music, I've never heard the timbre of a person's voice described as Baroque. The shimmering silence of her lucious figure doesn't make a lot of sense either. She didn't jostle easily? I had a vision of her in a stance of a linebacker. What is infrangible?

His body molded into hers. She smelled nice. Probably her strawberry shampoo. She had to feel his hardness against her. He let go not wanted her to think anything; maybe not wanting him to think anything. [Insert Paragraph Break]She was liberated but not that liberated. She did feel it hoping he would move away. Last night didn’t give her any opportunity to play with herself. Even though he was her stepson, she didn’t want their relationship going past anything to ruin their closeness. Yet, he felt good against her aching body. The long run was tough yesterday. Her body was just a little tired. She should have skipped the run she was paying for this morning. It was ruthless on her shapely figure until she lounged in the hot tub to soothe out the pain. She smelled nice? Look at the highlighted sentence. It makes no sense. The rest of the paragraph is weak in my opinion.


Her pink lipstick stained the edge of the white coffee cup. As soon as she woke-up, she did her hair and expertly applied her makeup so she could enjoy the morning. I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. What woman would do her hair and makeup just so she could have a cup of coffee?

“What kind of outfits?” she asked, sipping coffee and her skin getting warm. “I have to be professional you know.”

“Just something sexy to get you in the mood and easily disposed of without thinking. We should go shopping. I know quite a few women your age that stand out and are still classy. You wear some of it around the house so why not to work?” You have her walking around the house in slinky dressing gowns, bodices, and camisoles but, she dresses like a frump for work. Again, it makes no sense.

You seemed to be more concerned with their looks than with who they are. You would accomplish more if you let the characters show what they are to the readers. Let the reader form their own picture in their minds.

I found this to be very poorly written with a lot of fragmented sentences, lack of punctuation, and non-existent words.

There is nothing in the plot that compells the reader to want to read more.

 

[Sherry Hawk]

I found this to be very poorly written with a lot of fragmented sentences, lack of punctuation, and non-existent words.

I'm so jealous.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

I'm so jealous.

Troublemaker...

 

[ravensfx]

Infrangible

not being capable of being broken or separated into parts.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

not being capable of being broken or separated into parts.

Okay, I'll accept that. Still, the way you used it made no sense.

 

[marla56]

wow peeps back off

she isn't a novelist..she is trying to get it right..something you should know..son's don't call their mom's by their names..they call them mom and nothing else..no matter how grown up the son's get, they always call mom "MOM"... mom's on the other hand call the son's by their nicknames, my older son is bud and the younger one is boogie,,but i only call them that when we are home, not out in public,,my older son will be 28 this year the younger son is 25..i think it's disrepectful for a son or daughter to call their mom by their first name..i guess i'm from the old school, i don't want to be called donna by my boys or even my grandson,,i'm mom or nana, and that's just how it is..

 

[SxRx]

Many thoughts

Matt woke up on a sunny Saturday morning at about six o’clock. Shafts of light came through the wooden blinds illuminating his room. He had got in late. Not late enough to keep his schedule. His mom was already asleep so he just went to bed. The sun was nice on his skin as he stretched before the huge bay windows. He slipped on some boxers. They were cotton. Not bad. Mom must have bought some clothes for him for college. She must’ve been busy he thought as he brushed his teeth looking in the lighted mirror. His mother was sexually liberated and didn’t mind near nakedness around the house so the boxers were enough. She walked around the house in lacy camisoles or silky gowns in the morning. He just sat around the house in boxer shorts.

He walked groggily into the terrazzo-floored kitchen. His mom was already there waiting on coffee with her face hidden by her whimsically, curly reddish hair bred just past her shoulders. She was just standing there in a satin red gown with a black lacy bodice, which didn’t hide her long legs he loved so much or much else. He studied her for a moment from the shadow of the doorway. She had her hands on the counter looking down so she didn’t notice he had come in. It was easy to view her pear-shaped breasts through the lace as the hugging gown clung to her taught body; her long jogs in the morning along the winding roads kept her toned.

She was decadently noticed by everyone including his friends at her surreptitious age of thirty-eight; only her maturity when she talked or her confident walk ever revealed her some semblance of her real age. After his father died a year ago, he was glad she moved where nobody knew them since his friends wouldn’t linger, ogle really, when she went to the beach with him. He really didn’t want to hear she was hot from one his testosterone-fueled friends every time she was around. She was his best friend not some sex object to fulfill their never-ending lust.

He snuggled up behind her with his arms around her firm waist, kissed her on the cheek, and sweetly said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she said, touching his strong arms with her silken fingers accentuate by dalliant red fingernails. “Sorry I wasn’t up last night. We had some corporate function for new clients.”

“Cate, no problem.” he said, with his baroque voice shattering the shimmering silence of her luscious figure standing there. She didn’t jostle easily. Her penchant for horror movies and being a shark in the legal world made her infrangible. “I hit the sheets as soon as I got in. You know how long drives tire me out.”

His body molded into hers. She smelled nice. Probably her strawberry shampoo. She had to feel his hardness against her. He let go not wanted her to think anything; maybe not wanting him to think anything. She was liberated but not that liberated. She did feel it hoping he would move away. Last night didn’t give her any opportunity to play with herself. Even though he was her stepson, she didn’t want their relationship going past anything to ruin their closeness. Yet, he felt good against her aching body. The long run was tough yesterday. Her body was just a little tired. She should have skipped the run she was paying for this morning. It was ruthless on her shapely figure until she lounged in the hot tub to soothe out the pain.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I slept fine,” he said, massaging her shoulders with his soft yet strong hands; the tanning lotion kept them soft. “You seem pretty tense. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get this.”

“I’d rather have the massage,” she said, yielding to his strong fingers.

“Didn’t sleep well?” he asked. “You work too much. Gotta have fun.”

“Yeah, I guess it is time I dated. It’s been a long time. I’m just not sure what I want.”

“Well, you won’t get it with those dour suits. You’re a beautiful woman. Men are easily intimidated by a strong-willed woman. Stop drinking Cognac every night alone.”

“I hate the bar scene. It’s just a bunch of desperate and horny men and women. Never was into one-night stands or a fling.”

“Make them chase you by wearing skirts above the knees. Be a little less conservative and it’ll happen. A few changes and you’ll be sexy and charming without thinking about it.”

“That easy, huh?”

“A few new outfits and you’ll be a prim and proper sex object,” he said with a devilish grin.

His kissed her shoulder and she sat down on one of the one of the oak chairs at the small kitchen table. She barely ever went into the formal dining room. He handed her a cup of coffee perfectly adorned with just a touch of sugar and cream. She loved lattes so he had topped it off with some whipped cream and cinnamon. His was black. Despised sugar and wanted it hot. Two cups and he was done. His mom had four or five. Revved her up and gotten her ready for the day.

“Oh, thanks for the roses. I haven’t gotten those in awhile.”

“Least I can do for a mom putting me through law school,” he said. Her green eyes were a little fatigued from last night’s Cognac. She always had several before going to bed. Yet her milky skin touched with a little rouge highlighted her heart-shaped face framed by her long, curly locks. Her pink lipstick stained the edge of the white coffee cup. As soon as she woke-up, she did her hair and expertly applied her makeup so she could enjoy the morning. “And, they always make you happy.”

“It was sweet to find them on the pillow next to me.”

“I figured a rose for a rose.”

She finally blushed. He loved that more than anything. She tried to hide it behind the coffee cup. It didn’t work. He knew how to make her blush with crimson remarks. He had been doing that since he was a teen. His father didn’t compliment her after they were married that much so he did. And, he did it since his father was always working; his patients seemed to mean more to him that they did. She always made the time and didn’t impose a ton of rules on him like dad did. He never knew his birth mother since she died when he was young. Cate was really more an older sibling that a mom. But, he called her that mostly till his father died of a heart attack a couple of years ago. She was quite disheveled so he skipped six months of school. After that, their relationship deepened only that much further since they told each other everything, almost everything.

“What kind of outfits?” she asked, sipping coffee and her skin getting warm. “I have to be professional you know.”

“Just something sexy to get you in the mood and easily disposed of without thinking. We should go shopping. I know quite a few women your age that stand out and are still classy. You wear some of it around the house so why not to work?”

She sipped coffee and knew it was true. She had been holding back. Looks came and she didn’t acknowledge them. It was time to move on from the death of her husband. Why not let her best friend let her know how to be sexy outside of home. They talked about everything else.

“Okay, let’s go shopping this afternoon.”

“You serious?”

“You’re serious about all those women my age,” she asked. Both hands on her cup favoring her authority. “Unless you’re lying.”

“Not at all.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Over breakfast. I left an outfit on your bed.”

“You’re so sure of yourself.”

“Well, I learned it from you. I’ll always admire you for that. And, you always made me feel better no what.”

“That’s my job.”

“Since dad died, it’s my job to take care of you now.”

“I still can’t believe how well you came though for me after that,” she said, finally waking up; “It was a tough year for the both of us,” he said. “I had already been through it once before so it was easier somehow.”

“I never worried about you for some undiscernable reason. You always had it together. I wished you lived here so we could be together more often. Phone calls just don’t do it.”

“Yeah,” he said then sipping some coffee. “You’ll be happy to know my application was accepted up here. Not going back to California.”

“Well that’s a surprise,” she said, nearly dropping her cup. “You never said anything about changing schools.”

“They have a better law program here. It was supposed to be a surprise for dinner tonight but no reason not to tell you now. The scholarship will pay for everything. Just want to move back in.”

“Sure, that would be wonderful to have you around rather than in some dorm.”

"We better get going to breakfast. I put the clothes are on your bed," he said, assuming everything as usual. “I bought them in California.”

“Okay,” she said, walking out the door wondering what he bought.

Where to begin. I guess initially, what I find is that crafting a story needs to have an inspiration or idea behind it that drives it forward. I'm not sure I get a sense of that and what's really happening. Its not a story cheap on plot to just hit the stroke points, yet I don't feel an intricate or compelling story in the making. Some of the advice seems truly helpful and constructive, some of it just poking at you. I guess at this point you need to decide is the story something that needs to be rehabed or put out of its misery.

I find too many choppy thoughts and sentences that aren't helping the story flow. I also find adjectives, grammar and structure that could have been crafted differently. Please, let's avoid 'nice'. Please, let's avoid explaining in long paragraphs. Use creative dialogue to build the story points, the plot and the characters.

These are thoughts directed to you the writer. I wish you good luck with your story. Clearly, at some point you'll probably want to get editing help.

SxRx