# Margaret Mary (Working Title)



## SueC (Aug 27, 2017)

Hi, I took this to my writing group and they were pretty critical, so I have worked it over pretty extensively. This is the beginning of a novel, not a short story. It is set in Chicago, where I grew up, so many of the places are very familiar to me although I no longer live there. It is NOT biographical - LOL. My major failings are tense and syntax, so I would greatly appreciate any help on that score and also generally. It begins in the present tense, first person, and I reflect back, so . . . Thank you in advance - so much!!



*Margaret Mary (working title)
SueC*​
     There are odd noises in an empty church. Thumps and bumps, like ghosts clambering into pews, tripping over the kneeler, late for Mass again. I am sitting in the left section, second pew, of St. Jerome’s Catholic Church on Chicago’s north side. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and I hear the thunder broiling away outside.  Even without the storm, the darkness in the church at midday is pervasive; a place where votive candles and low exit lights are the only source of illumination. I run my hand along the smooth walnut of the pew, remembering how many times I had been in that very spot as a child, taking comfort in the familiar. I am here this day for a funeral, to say goodbye to a friend, and am glad I have come early.

_     Looking back._ This seems an obsessive activity for some people, who meander through their past lives with a variety of emotions. Some prefer the private moments in a day to recall a touch, a kiss, or even a mistake. Others prefer to constantly enlighten those around them with a precautionary tale, or to remind friends that they, too, were once loved. We all do it to one degree or another. I have a tale to tell but this story speaks more of being blind-sided than one of caution.

     I have lived in Rogers Park in Chicago my entire life. I was born at Passavant hospital in 1956 to my parents and one older brother, Hank. We lived in apartment buildings as we grew up, surrounded by an extensive family that included grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and a few faux relatives who were intermingled in one fashion or another within our family. Grandma Pauline, for example, is not really my grandmother, but because everyone who is related to her calls her Grandma Pauline, that is what is I call her, too, even though she’s not too much older than I am.

     My brother and I had attended St. Jerome Catholic grammar school as children, taught mostly by nuns. There was also an occasional sprinkling of lay women who were educated and capable of convincing Monsignor Mulcahey that they really didn’t mind making far less money than they would teaching public school.  I still have most of the same few friends I had back then. 

     I had been an awkward teen who towered over most of the boys I met. My height is from my dad’s side of the family; my mother’s people are rounder and shorter. From my mom I got awful red hair that resembled a Brillo pad on damp summer days and my body shape was simply thin, which meant I had no body shape. That, of course, changed over time.

     I did not date often during those early years, but if a boy I was interested in wasn’t Catholic or, God forbid, something other than Irish, I was usually not allowed to see him beyond the second or third date. Prior to date number three, he was considered a novelty. After that, it might have gotten serious, so he was sent packing. Pure Irish was the best, although rare. The first love of my life was Polish and even though he was Catholic and attended Notre Dame University, my mother still gave him the stink eye. Needless to say, my family dominated my life both socially and personally, and still do.

    Not all of my relationships with boys were ended by my family. I had met a boy at a sock hop in the gym of Holy Trinity school one Friday night when I was in eighth grade. He was the homeliest boy I had ever seen. He had prominent front teeth and talked with a lisp that sprayed when he got to laughing or was excited about one thing or another. He had curly red hair. He was, however, one of the most genuinely kind people I have ever had the pleasure to know, and still know to this day.

    But when I first brought him home, I thought my mother was going to die on the spot. He stuck out his hand to her and introduced himself as Declan Patrick Mahoney.

    “My friends just call me DP, ma’am.”

    “Well, I’ll be nothing of the sort, Declan Patrick. And where might your people be from?”

     DP just stood for a moment not saying anything, while my mother almost wet herself in anticipation. “My mom and dad were born in Ireland, County Clare, came over as babes.”

     That was all it took. It wouldn’t matter if he was the hunchback of Notre Dame, if he was that Irish, he was a good match for me. Of course, it didn’t work out that way, much as my mother protested. She asked him over for lunch, and then for dinner, and when she made noises about introducing Declan Patrick to the family, I knew it was time for _me_ to call a halt.

    “Ma, DP and I are not dating. We’re just friends. He’s great fun to be around, but I’m not interested in him _that way_.”

    “You’re too young to know what you want, Maggie. He’s a lovely boy!”

    “Yes, he is nice, but not the one for me, Ma.” And so it went for many years. Eventually DP got his teeth fixed, grew to be a handsome man, and maintained his glorious sense of humor.

     My blind-sided story begins during the Christmas season, 2014. The year had been quiet and everyone seemed at peace in their own little world. The apartment building I had lived in for many years had a sudden vacancy in November, due to the death of Mrs. Paladino. During potlucks, she was always the one who brought Italian cookies that absolutely melted in your mouth. We would all miss her, and those cookies, but were grateful that she was finally free of the pain she had suffered for years.  Everyone in the building on Fargo attended her funeral at St. Jerome. The reception after was quiet and reserved, so unlike the Irish in moments of grief.

      In early December, Mrs. Paladino’s apartment had been rented by a quiet older man who seemed to prefer to remain a mystery to his neighbors. I had seen him a couple times getting his mail. It’s been a habit of mine to introduce myself to new faces and while he was never rude, he was also never friendly. In fact, those first couple of months, I saw him infrequently and I don’t believe he ever told me his name. I never saw his face; it was always turned away or down reading mail. After a while, I just said “hello” and nothing more when I would see him; he clearly did not want to engage in conversation.

      That all changed one day. I saw him in the foyer near the mailboxes, pulling out a surprising number of what looked to be Christmas cards. Surprising for such an unfriendly person. I greeted him, expecting no response, and was surprised when he actually looked up at me. He smiled warmly, and asked how my day was going. I did a quick recovery and found myself enjoying a conversation about the Bears and the Cubs season ahead next summer.

     “I’ve seen you a couple of times since you moved in but I don’t know your name. I’m Maggie O’Connor, apartment 1A.”

    “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m Manasche Aussenberg, but you can call me ‘Manny.’ I’m in apartment 3B. Have you lived here long, Maggie?”

    “In this building for more years than I care to count, and in Rogers Park since the day I was born. How about you?”

     Manny told me he had come from New York, where he had been a high school teacher in the public school system. When he retired, he decided to try living in the Midwest, since he had no family of his own. He had heard so much about how friendly people in this part of the country were. I told him I was retired also and that my entire family lived in the area. I told him we were Irish Catholic people.

     “Your name is so interesting, Manny. Where are you from?

     “Poland. My parents somehow survived the Hitler mess and then our family became refugees in Spain. They stayed there for many years, but I was educated in England. Oh, I am also Catholic.” We then talked about St. Jerome and I invited him to go to Mass with me.

     We said our goodbyes, after he had walked me one flight up to my apartment. He said maybe we could have coffee sometime.

     After Manny went on up to his place, I was trying to get over the dramatic change in him. For two months I had thought he was simply someone who preferred his privacy and didn’t want to have any friendships in the building he lived in.  Some people are like that and I certainly respected his choice. On the other hand, this complete reversal seemed odd. And he looked much different to me that day; so much so that I hardly recognized him. For one thing, he seemed much taller than I recalled from our past brief encounters. Also, he had taken to growing a short beard.

     We hit it off from that day forward and spent many evenings together since then. We shared meals, played gin rummy and watched Hallmark movies on television. I even introduced him to my family, so he wouldn’t be alone for the holidays. He claimed to have no one in his life and my family, much to my surprise, took him in as one of their own. 

      Manny and I had made plans to watch “Downton Abbey” the previous Sunday and I was supposed to bring a chicken casserole. He was responsible for the stand-alone veggies, drinks and hosting our dinner. In his hands, the drinks typically wound up being some dreadful concoction, the color of dirt, with names like “Fisherman’s Punch” and almost always came from an ancient blender he had gotten from a used appliance store.  But there was usually some sort of alcohol in them, too, so after one or two it didn’t matter what they looked like. Mine were mainly iced tea or lemonade, although I always kept a bottle of Jameson’s in the cupboard for after dinner.

      I am brought back from my reverie in church by another phantom bump, which jars me from my thoughts and this time I actually turn in my pew. Closer than close in the pew behind me stands Uncle Mikey, who uses both cane and walker to get around and is still the quietest person I know.

      Uncle Mikey is my father’s brother. As young men they were so similar in their physical appearance that many thought they were twins. They were born four years apart, my father being the elder. Mikey has a special place in all of our hearts, especially since my father’s passing several years ago. He wears glasses and his hair is a beautiful white, sporting a small, thin pony tail. Very cool at the age of eighty-three.

     “Hello, Maggie girl,” he whispers. I can smell his breath; he is that close. He still speaks with a brogue that makes his false teeth slip.

      “Hi, Uncle Mikey.”
      “Can I sit with ye, hon?”
      “Of course.” More thumps and bumps as he works his way back toward the center aisle and up one row, then he wends his way along my pew until he reaches me. Turning, turning, cane between the legs and down he plops, into the pew, so close to me that our shoulders are pressed firmly together, which feels oddly comforting.  The effort exhausts him.

      “How you doin’ Maggie?”
      “Okay, Uncle Mikey.”

      He is married to my Auntie Maeve, who is my mother’s sister. Mikey is taller than I am, skinny as a rail, and when he and Maeve kiss, it brings a smile to all of our faces. It’s actually very romantic; they stand close together and as she turns her face up to him and wraps her arms around his waist, he gently puts his right hand on the back of her head and bends down. His left hand most often lands in the area of her right breast, giving a gentle squeeze before the kiss ends. Sometimes I wonder what her parents must have thought of this routine. They look young and happy when they kiss, and always come away smiling.

      “Where’s Auntie Maeve?” I ask.
      “Oh, she’s not feeling well today, Maggie. Don’t know what’s wrong with the wee girlie, but she’ll be right as rain soon.”

       We sit for a while in silence, the ghosts our only company. I am lost in thoughts of Manny, his smile and how much I will miss him. I rest my head on Mikey’s shoulder and squint my eyes a little; St. Joseph is starting to look a little like Manny in winter, with his neatly trimmed beard, and I reserve that information for another time. Another day when I am feeling more lonely than bearable, I will come here and talk to Manny in the guise of St. Joseph. I thought, the day of a funeral was not the day for an out-loud conversation with a dead man.
As close as Uncle Mikey and I are at the moment, I believe he senses what I am doing and remains respectfully quiet; he focuses on his own private thoughts, leaving me to mine.

       I was the one who found Manny, of course. My hands were full of the casserole container, so when I got to his door after climbing two flights up, I was slightly winded. I took a moment to catch my breath and then called his name a couple of times through the closed door. When he didn’t answer, I put the pot down on the floor.  I used the knocker with a crucifix that Manny had installed himself. I knocked three times, hitting Jesus’ toes with each rap. I listened for his steps. Nothing. I knocked again. Still no sound. I felt a twinge tickle my heart.

       I reached down and picked up the casserole pot and then put it back down again. In that moment, I remembered that Manny had given me a key to his place, _just in case_, and I had done the same. I listened again at the door; the silence from the other side was almost deafening now and the need to hurry overcame me. For a brief moment, as I began my descent, I remembered how I would fly down the stairs when I was a girl at home, no caution to my steps, no fear of falling. I wished I could fly at that moment, and eyed the banister as an option. I just as quickly discarded it. My only goal was to get into my friend’s apartment not break a hip.

_To be continued . . ._


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## Jack of all trades (Aug 27, 2017)

An interesting choice -- to have one paragraph in the present and the go to memories. I can't decide if I like it. The present tense bothers me.

Gordon Korman did something like that in his Everest series. I think the opening was still past tense. I had my doubts when reading that, too. 

I strongly suggest that you finish the first draft before getting too much feedback. I have seen people abandon projects because they got stuck trying to write a first chapter that got only praise. After a while, they were sick of the story.

Most things can be fixed during editing. But if you lose enthusiasm for a project, that can be hard to fix.

Also, this section is able to be viewed by guests and counts as published, so don't put too much of your book here if you hope to have it traditionally published.

You have a nice style of writing. You're probably going to get a lot of criticism about the info dump beginning. I'll withhold judgment on that. I would want to read more before commenting on it.

Who is your target audience?

I think that is an important question. Try getting feedback from those within your target audience. Remember JK Rowling's path to being published. It was the eight year old niece of a publishing exec who wanted to read more that prompted the exec to publish the first Harry Potter book. Getting feedback from men may not help you sell to girls or young adults. And many of the more vocal members here are men. Keep that in mind.

Overall your writing is clean and enjoyable. I think this has potential.


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## SueC (Aug 28, 2017)

Thank you, Jack, and for your pm. I love writing first person, but have habitually given up and taken up past tense. This may be one of those times, but I so appreciate your very clear comments. Especially liked the reference to J.K. - I had not heard that before. Thanks again. Sue


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## Jack of all trades (Aug 28, 2017)

SueC said:


> Thank you, Jack, and for your pm. I love writing first person, but have habitually given up and taken up past tense. This may be one of those times, but I so appreciate your very clear comments. Especially liked the reference to J.K. - I had not heard that before. Thanks again. Sue



You're welcome. 

I'm a bit confused. Person and tense are two different things.

I'm glad you like the info on JK Rowling.


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## Jay Greenstein (Aug 28, 2017)

> There are odd noises in an empty church.


“Don't say the old _lady screamed__. __Bring her on and let her scream__.”_ 
~ Mark Twain

As a reader, what is an odd noise in the view of the protagonist? You know. Your character knows. Why keep the reader guessing?





> Thumps and bumps, like ghosts clambering into pews, tripping over the kneeler, late for Mass again.


Never having heard a ghost clambering (why don't they just walk in?) How do I take this?

The problem is that you're describing what you visualize happening. But you're not there, your protagonist is. So by lecturing the reader—explaining the situation, you provide an informational experience to a reader who wants to be entertained.





> I am sitting in the left section, second pew, of St. Jerome’s Catholic  Church on Chicago’s north side. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and I hear  the thunder broiling away outside.


This is a report. Why do I, as a reader who just began reading, care where the character is? Why do I need a weather report? Isn't getting t know our protagonist more important than the weather, or where that person is sitting? Will knowing the weather make the reader _want_ to turn to page two?

To be in the protagonist's viewpoint means the reader knows what the character knows _as they know it_, so the reader will react as the protagonist does. it is not having a stenographer describe what's going on. In the moment the protagonist calls now, are they noticing the weather and reacting to it? Are they thinking about where they're sitting in the church? Would the story change were they on the other side in a different row? No. Only the storyteller cares, and by mentioning it, and being in first-person OOV, you place the storyteller, in the position of pretending to be the protagonist at some unknown later date, recalling, not living. But be they the words of a storyteller or the words of a storyteller wearing a wig and makeup to look like the character, we are _not_ on the scene living it with the protagonist as an avatar. We're only hearing about it.

Think about it. The first paragraph is 133 words long. So at its completion we're on the second manuscript page. And after all those words we don't know the protagonist's age, gender, social status, dress, personality, or why they are in the church. We know the weather, but the character is inside. We know the protagonist is in a church, and we've been told s/he is sitting somewhere on the left side—which must matter because you specified it, as against just being in the church. We also know that there are odd noises, but not how the protagonist reacts to them, or what he/she thinks they may be.

Before the first line of dialog is spoken 608 words have been read, so we're on the third standard manuscript page. But the words are not spoken either in that church or on that day. in fact, nothing happens in the church. So why did you begin the story there and then abandon it?

I know this may seem cruel, especially because you've worked hard on this story, and put so much of yourself into it. But the problem isn't a failure of talent, a matter of good/bad writing, or even your potential as a writer. It's that like pretty much every hopeful writer, no one told you that the writing we learned in our schooldays is not useful for fiction because the style is nonfiction, and meant to make you useful to potential employers. 

For fiction _everything_ changes. A scene on the page is very different from one on screen or stage. The elements of that scene are different because the capabilities of our medium are unlike other mediums and so necessitate a very different approach. For example: In this you're taking the role of someone telling of their life to an audience, and because a storyteller is alone on stage you're spending several pages on "what came before," to orient the audience. But unlike that verbal storyteller you have a cast of characters who are quite capable of playing their role without help—if you know the tricks of how to present them realistically.

The thing to keep in mind is that though the voice you "hear" as you read is filled with emotion, that's only because you know how _you_ would read it. You already know the story, the characters, and the situation. In fact, you know what a line will say, and why it's stated as it is before you read it, so you hear the storyteller's voice, as it illustrates emotion, changes pitch, rhythm, intensity, and all the other tricks of storytelling.  You can "see" the changes of expression, the storyteller's gestures, and body language, But what about the reader? For you, every line is a pointer to emotion, images, events, and even the performance notes, stored in your mind. But as anyone can tell you, my head is empty. So for me, every line is a pointer to emotion, images, events, and even the performance notes, stored in _*your*_ mind. See the problem?

Doesn't it make sense that if we want our reader to live the story, just as they do when they read a pro, that we need to know what a pro knows?

The solution is simple: add the tricks of the trade to your toolbox. Unfortunately, while it is simple, it's not all that easy, because learning any profession takes time, effort, study, and practice. A _lot_ of practice. But given that it's part of becoming a writer, and everyone faces the same problem, it's no big deal.

As for acquiring the necessary skills there are lots of ways. The local library system's fiction writing department is filled with the views of teachers, successful writers, pros in the publishing industry, and more. There are also lots of online resources, including my articles, and the many posted here, that will give you an overview of the areas where you need to add capability. But in the end, my view is to go with the pros. When they make a suggestion we know the advice works for at least them.

But whatever you do...hang in there, and keep on writing.


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## SueC (Aug 29, 2017)

Mr. Greenstein, As I said in the beginning, this is a novel, not a short story. Not everything is covered in the few words here. I appreciate the time you took to critique this piece. In regards to one comment - 





> Before the first line of dialog is spoken 608 words have been read, so we're on the third standard manuscript page. But the words are not spoken either in that church or on that day. in fact, nothing happens in the church. So why did you begin the story there and then abandon it?


 It is not accurate and the church certainly is not "abandoned." A woman sitting in a church is reflecting on the past. She is sitting alone. Who would you expect her to have a conversation with at this point? 

Again, thank you for your effort and I will read every word.


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## Jack of all trades (Aug 29, 2017)

I'm not sure why Jay is mentioning manuscript pages. It has no relevance to the quality of the work.


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## Jay Greenstein (Aug 29, 2017)

> Mr. Greenstein, As I said in the beginning, this is a novel, not a short  story. Not everything is covered in the few words here.


You miss the point. Your goal on page one is to make the reader _want_ to turn the page. And that means the words must have meaning to the reader _at the time they're read._ Your reader arrives, driven by mild curiosity which will quickly fade. So you must replace it with active interest, and make that reader settle in their chair and say, "Hmm...tell me more." And if, before that point arrives, you bore or confuse them for a single line, they're gone. 

Of course there's lots the reader will learn as they turn the pages. But at all times they must have context for what's said or they're just words.





> She is sitting alone. Who would you expect her to have a conversation with at this point?


The unknown protagonist—whose gender, age, situation, and the smallest thing about them is unknown—is sitting alone, and doing nothing. So knowing their location, protagonist's  position in the building, plus the weather outside, accomplishes nothing. Ask yourself: When beginning a story do you want to read story or history? When opening a story, are you more interested in the weather or the character who will be the center of our attention?

When we reach the end of the posted section this person hasn't moved, thought, observed anything meaningful, or in any way justified their placement in that church. In fact, your story has not started. In its place a narrator talks, endlessly, about the character's history. Why does the reader care where she want to school, or that she was skinny as a kid. Story happens, and does so in real-time. A reader isn't looking for an informational experience. They want to be entertained, from the first paragraph onward, and on every page. History only informs, and it's immutable, so there's no uncertainty. But uncertainty is what readers feed on. A reader who is worried about what will happen next is a happy reader. Place the reader into the moment the protagonist calls now and the future becomes uncertain. Make the reader know reader know what has the protagonist's attention, and why and how much that matters, and you have their interest. Make them know the protagonist's evaluation,. their necessities, and their resources and you have calibrated the reader's perceptions to the protagonist's. It's a matter of presenting the story from the inside out, rather than from an external viewpoint. This matters a great deal. I'm not allowed to link to my own articles in a post, but I do clarify why a story needs to be told from the protagonist's viewpoint, with my article, Inside Out, and what that can do to make the story with, What in the Hell is POV?

The history lesson you give is delivered in an emotionless voice _because the reader can't hear you._ You know where to place the emotion, the kind, and how much, because you know the story and the characters—and what a given line _will say_ before you begin reading. The reader has only punctuation and word meaning to guide them because they won't know what it says until after it's read, when it's too late to add emotion.

From start to finish this is a transcription of the narrator "telling" the story aloud. That is _*not*_  first person, as a publisher views that. It's the storyteller's script, minus the stage direction on how to speak it. Have your computer read the story aloud and you'll hear how different what the reader hears is from what you hear as you read. In short, the problem isn't, as I've already mentioned, a matter of good or bad writing. It's that the writing tools you're using are inappropriate to a medium that cannot reproduce a verbal storyteller's performance.

Hope this clarifies.


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## Jack of all trades (Aug 30, 2017)

Oh! So the point of your long posts, Jay, is to get people to follow the link at the bottom to your articles. Got it.

Are you a publisher? An editor?


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## bunkhouseboudoir (Aug 30, 2017)

From a reader' standpoint and nothing more, my only advice is condense. I understand the need to establish a back story because you want the reader to understand where you're coming from, but sometimes it's best not to elaborate on every separate point right from the start. Keep it succint and get to the reason we're all here at the beginning so we can decide if we want to stay for the rest. If it's a novel you're writing, you'll have plenty of opportunities to build upon what you've laid down. Many of the anecdotal bits could be removed from your opening and set aside to be placed in a more appropriate and relevent setting later on. I'm very curious about Mr. Aussenberg, but I don't see what your shapeless adolescent body or Declan have to do with it at this point, for example.


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## Guy Faukes (Aug 30, 2017)

Personally, I thought it was competently written. The piece is good for the first chapter of a novel; I felt that you kept a good, slower, personable sort of voice and tone. My writing style is fairly different so I can't advise too much on how to improve this piece but I must say that there are some really nice, small touches that show your skill as a writer. It's hard to weave in meaningful detail into each paragraph and make it do work. Overall, I have a few nits, which generally don't constitute much in terms of feedback. I hope you post more of this, SueC


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## Jay Greenstein (Aug 31, 2017)

> Are you a publisher? An editor?


I'm someone who owned a manuscript critiquing service. And I've helped more than one or two achieve publication. And, I'm someone who has been through the publication process, in nonfictin, and in short story and novel format in fiction, plus self publication of fiction. I'm also the slowest to learn, and make all the mistakes, which qualifies me to say, "For god's sake don't do that."

You?


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## Cran (Aug 31, 2017)

This is not the place to discuss member's credentials. Agree, disagree: fine, but don't distract from those who respect the rules and purpose of these forums. The OP is the reason for this discussion. Try to remember that; you'll rely on it when it's your OP.


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## EmmaSohan (Sep 2, 2017)

I just read the first few paragraphs. (Sorry, time issues). I found them haunting. I am normally not an imagery person, but I liked the imagery. So to me that showed talent.

I think if you say "ghosts of past worshippers" that might solve the ghost problem. I really liked that line, but I also had to stop to process it.

Do not start with "There are". That's an empty sentence start you would try to avoid anywhere, sometimes without success. But not your first sentence. Odd noises disturb this empty church. If you can't think of a verb, "Odd noises in an empty church."

Jay is right, that sounded like a report. ("I am . . .") Which we almost always try to avoid. I was already on your side by then, so I just saw it as mood -- it makes your story sound true or documentary-like.


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## SueC (Sep 3, 2017)

Bunkhouse, I'm sorry - had to chuckle a little at your comment. I am so wordy!!! I try really hard not to mix and mingle the back story with the real story, and it is a constant struggle. I do appreciate you pointing it out to me. I want people to connect with my readers, so I just throw stuff that is, as you say, unnecessary. Thanks so much for sharing. Sue


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## Jay Greenstein (Sep 3, 2017)

> I try really hard not to mix and mingle the back story with the real story, and it is a constant struggle.


It's easier, if you keep in mind that you're not telling the reader a story in in the sense that they're getting to know about a series of events. Your goal is to make the reader live them, moment-by-moment, in the way the protagonist does.

When the protagonist takes the helm of a sailboat from a sincere but inexperienced person, and gets them out of trouble, he got the skill to do that from a summer spent helping his uncle race a Flying Tiger ten meter boat. In many ways, it made him what he is. But that summer, and how it came about, and what it taught him, is just as irrelevant in that storm as who his instructor was when he got his drivers license. In the moment he calls now it's just an admirable skill he has and uses. At some point, he _might_ have the thought, _Thank you uncle Jim, for teaching me to sail._ But aside from that, and perhaps a line about it in response to a question from someone else, you don't mention it because it's not our story, it's history. 

Every time you stop a scene to explain anything, you do two things. First, by stilling the scene-clock you kill any momentum the scene may have achieved. And second, you call attention to the fact that it's only a story by placing yourself into it. The fact that the characters, and the events, too, freeze in place and politely wait for you to finish—and no one in the story asks you who you are and what you're doing there—kills all sense of reality. And that's true even when you use "I" as the personal pronoun, because the narrator and the protagonist live at different times and so cannot appear on stage together.

Because of our school training in reports and essays, where the object is to inform, we tend to, well...report. But the goal of fiction is to entertain, an emotional, not a factual goal. That means the writing should be character, not author-centric, and emotion, not fact-based. Every line should serve to develop character, meaningfully set the scene, or move the plot. And backstory does none of that because its goal is to inform. 

Backstory is necessary at times, obviously. But if you can include it as enrichment to necessary lines, it's learned, but not noticed. For example, if you say, _Jack stretched his fourteen year old body to its limit as he reached for the elusive feather drifting on the breeze_, you set the scene while telling the reader how old Jack is. Included this way it comes as part of physical action that Jack has decided is necessary, not from a narrator who intrudes.

Take a look at this article. It shows one very powerful way to show the action from the viewpoint of the protagonist. Used well, it can make your reader feel as if they're on the scene living the story _as the protagonist_. And isn't that what we really want? It's all well and good to learn that the protagonist has fallen in love. But isn't it a lot more fun to do so yourself?

Chew on that article for a while, till it makes sense. Then make a copy of what you posted and try a rewrite using that trick. It will feel awkward, because it's very unlike the kind of writing we learned to do. But persevere, and go back and verify that for each action there is one motivation and one response, which will lead to the next motivation/response. You won't be very good at it, because anything new takes time to master, and make our own. But you'll find that it forces you to think with your protagonist's mind, and take into account what that character decides must be done, based on their needs, not that of the plot. And when it's as good as you can make it, have the computer read it aloud. I think you'll like the result.

And if it seems worth knowing more about, pick up a copy of the book it was condensed from. It's filled with such things, tools and knowledge we don't know exist when we come to writing.

Hope this clarifies.


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## SueC (Sep 3, 2017)

Jay Greenstein, thank you for your input. It was the first I have read from you that I did not feel like you were yelling at me or otherwise being critical. I appreciate it. Sue


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## SueC (Sep 3, 2017)

Thank you very much. I have to confess that I am really excited that someone (only you) noticed the voice. This person, Maggie, is telling a story, she is not reliving it. I am reworking the beginning a little, trying to eliminate anything not relevant to the story, but it does seem to be getting flatter and flatter as I go. One thing I am learning with this process of asking people what they think is that no one will agree! LOL. I believe I will be posting more, but again, thank you so much for appreciated comments. Sue


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## Jay Greenstein (Sep 3, 2017)

> This person, Maggie, is telling a story, she is not reliving it.


To illustrate the problem with that approach—one that nearly 50% of hopeful writers adapt—look at film. Suppose yourself into a crowded movie theater. The lights go down and the screen lights to show your Maggie, alone on a stage. She nods in greeting, and begins to tell her story, as you do here, using pretty much the same words. No other actors appear, and the scene remains the stage on which she talks about what once happened to her.

How many people would be in their seat by the end of the film?. How often do you pay to hear a performer tell his/her story? How many TV programs feature that approach?

See the problem? But when that approach is used on the page the problems multiply. When you read/edit this story you _are_ the protagonist, and the voice you hear in your head is that of the storyteller as she commands the stage, using gesture, body-language, expression, glances, and all the visual tricks of the storyteller. But how much of that makes it to the page? Who, other then you can see it?

As you read, you hear the performer's voice, all filled with emotion. The nuance of intensity, carefully placed pauses for breath, cadence, and all the tricks of that wonderful instrument called the human voice brings the story to life...for you. But how much of that makes it to the page? Who, other then you can hear it?

You can tell a reader that a given character speaks a line with anger, disdain, or any other way. But you can not tell the reader how _you, the narrator_ will speak it. Have your computer read it aloud and you'll immediately hear that what the reader gets is very different from your intent for how they should, or how you, hear it.

The problem isn't one of good or bad writing, talent, or the story. It lies in our medium. In life our senses are parallel. We take in a setting and its ambiance in a glance. We get the soundscape in the same way. But the page is a serial medium, and to make the story move at speed we must carefully choose that the reader must know to enjoy the story—something our schooldays never covered because we learned a style of writing that would make us useful to an employer, not train us to be fiction professionals.

I know your intent is to entertain the reader. But your methodology is one that can't work in our medium because it requires the audience to observe the storyteller's performance, not learn what they said. Think about how lifeless a transcription of an announcer at a football game would be if you knew nothing of the game and the teams involved, and couldn't see/match the words to the action.

I respect what you're trying to accomplish. And what you're doing is what so many other hopeful writers do, because no one tells us that our schooldays writing skills, and our storytelling skills do not work on the page for fiction. But what I'm talking about is the craft of the fiction writer. You know, without thinking that your schooldays didn't prepare you to write a play or screenplay, or even do journalistic writing. But like me, and pretty much every hopeful writer, you come to writing not knowing that when we leave our schooldays—even including an undergrad CW course—we are exactly as well prepared to write fiction as to pilot a 747 airliner. Except that we know we're not a professional pilot.

But the necessary knowledge is easy to find. We have articles here, and on the web, some of them mine Your local library system's fiction writing department contains the views of pros in writing, publishing, and teaching. And when you think about it, doesn't it make sense that to write like a pro yo have to know what the pro knows?


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## Jack of all trades (Sep 4, 2017)

SueC said:


> This person, Maggie, is telling a story, she is not reliving it.




First person narratives are not popular with most members of this site. That does NOT mean they are not popular with the general public. James Herriot's books are still in bookstores. They were/are popular. And his first book was rejected multiple times -- UNTIL he rewrote the stories in first person. 

Think about your target audience. If it is not writers, then take all advice with a grain of salt. We might mean well, but that doesn't make us right or all knowing. This is YOUR project. You need to be satisfied with it.


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## Shemp (Sep 4, 2017)

Sue I have something in common with your protagonist (age, Chicago area Catholic upbringing.). 

I like your writing style.   It's clear and easy to read.    The story would be better, though, if it hooked the reader more quickly.   One suggestion to make that happen, is to start in a different place.   For example, you could begin with


"_My blind-sided story begins during the Christmas season, 2014....._.."


Tell that part of the story, then weave in parts of the background, as the story progresses.


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## SueC (Sep 5, 2017)

Thanks, Shemp! Really appreciate you reading this, and I am interested in your suggestion. This has been so much fun to write, because in some ways it's my story! If you were in Chicago then, you know what I mean. I grew up in the neighborhood I am writing about. LOL. Thanks again - very good point.


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## VonBradstein (Nov 9, 2017)

Hi Sue,

I️ did not read all of Jays posts because I️ haven’t the patience to anymore unfortunately. I️ do disagree that there’s a whole lot needing done here. Certainly no need for the kinds of revamps that are being suggested. You do not need to give everything away. In fact I’d rather you didn’t.

I️ will say that this is unquestionable a good intro. Obviously being an intro I️ feel unable to give you much more than that because so much seem like it needs to be explored/revealed. It is absurd in my view for people to critique something clearly only a fragment on anything beyond its technical and expository merits. It is not a story...yet.

So about those things I️ can say. Technically it’s good. You write in a style that is easy on the eye, approachable and generally likeable.

 I️ have mentioned to you in a past critique about how I️ do think you play it a little safe. Thats my feeling with this piece also. That’s not a negative by any stretch - there’s an entire industry of accomplished writers who just want to tell comfortable yarns and cozy mysteries - so if that’s what you’re going for then you’re pretty much there in my opinion. Perhaps just lose a couple of commas and watch your sentence sprawl and bingo.

That being said, I️ have a sense there is a bit more to you. I️ have not read your published novels yet (I️ am intending to soon) so am restraining my opinions to what you have put on here. What I️ do feel I️ get from your writing is a lot of consistency in voice, themes and so on. Consistency is good, but it does lead to a kind of “no failure/no fireworks” situation. You’re rather a steady hand and sometimes, just sometimes, I️ find myself reading your work and wanting to be put on edge a little bit. 

I’m not trying to tell you to change who you are. Your work is great. I️ just feel like if you might take a risk or two (again I️ am limiting this only to what I️ see) and maybe explore a wider range of human motives, manners and morals it could make the difference between a “nice likeable writer” and a true bestseller. Perhaps you are trying to do just that, but it isn’t quite coming through clearly enough for me to see it. For the most part I️ read your work and those of your characters in variations of the same, amicable voice and everybody deep down seems to be a nice person. 

I️ don’t want you to stop writing about the kind of things that are important to you nor the kind of things you care about, only that you consider the way in which you’re delivering the story and the apparent depth of the characters involved. I️ have read a number of your stories and have yet to encounter a character who wasn’t a rather reasonable person to some degree, much less encountered a real bastard. A lot of your characters remind me of church group folks, which again is fine if that’s what you’re going for, I️ just would personally like for a writer of your talents to explore a more fuller, richer range. No need for f bombs or exploitative nonsense, of course, just some patchier, less likeable, less easily digestible folks with some less savory motives. I’m sure you’ve had some experiences you could draw from that would make truly gripping reading and what’s awesome is I️ believe you could really do a great job of delivering it tastefully and well.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk


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## Sumguy (Nov 10, 2017)

Hello Sue,

As always, thanks for sharing your work. I hadn't seen this before Von gave it a bumparoo. Hopefully you don't think I am picking on you; I figure if I'm going to provide critiques, they might just as well be on stuff I enjoyed reading 

Anyway, it looks like you've gotten plenty of general style reviews, but none on what you asked for (syntax and tense). I am certainly no guru myself, but I did my best for the first few paragraphs. Maybe some others can pick up and grab the rest:



SueC said:


> There are odd noises in an empty church. Thumps and bumps, like ghosts clambering into pews, tripping over the kneeler, late for Mass again. I am sitting in the left section, second pew, of St. Jerome’s Catholic Church on Chicago’s north side. It’s a Thursday afternoon, and I hear the thunder broiling away outside. Even without the storm, the darkness in the church at midday is pervasive; a place where votive candles and low exit lights are the only source of illumination. I run my hand along the smooth walnut of the pew, remembering how many times I had been in that this very spot as a child, taking comfort in the familiar. I am here this day for a funeral, to say goodbye to a friend, and am glad I have come early.
> 
> Looking back I don’t think the italics are warranted here. This seems an obsessive activity for some people, who meander through their past lives with a variety of emotions. Some prefer reserve the private moments in of a day to recall a touch, a kiss, or even a mistake. Others prefer to constantly enlighten those around them with a precautionary tales, or to remind friends that they, too, were once loved. We all do it to one degree or another I didn’t care for this. Not that it isn’t true, but, rather, it feels like the narrator is preaching. I have a tale to tell[comma] but this story speaks more of being blind-sided than one of caution. the verb does not agree with both parts in this comparison: _This story speaks of being blind-sided_ and _this story speaks one of caution_. I am not sure how to reword it. Maybe simply remove the word “one”: _this story speaks more of being blind-sided than of caution_. Overall, this entire paragraph simply did not work for me. While it’s technically okay for a first-person narrator to share opinion, it clashed with the rest of the story, like the character was suddenly an all-knowing guru of higher enlightenment than the reader.
> 
> ...


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## SueC (Nov 20, 2017)

Sumguy, sorry it took so long, but thank you so much! You are awesome with your response and I appreciate the time you spent. This is a work in progress, so I am trying my best to look at all comments and seeing what really works.


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## SueC (Nov 20, 2017)

> I️ don’t want you to stop writing about the kind of things that are important to you nor the kind of things you care about, only that you consider the way in which you’re delivering the story and the apparent depth of the characters involved. I️ have read a number of your stories and have yet to encounter a character who wasn’t a rather reasonable person to some degree, much less encountered a real bastard. A lot of your characters remind me of church group folks, which again is fine if that’s what you’re going for, I️ just would personally like for a writer of your talents to explore a more fuller, richer range. No need for f bombs or exploitative nonsense, of course, just some patchier, less likeable, less easily digestible folks with some less savory motives. I’m sure you’ve had some experiences you could draw from that would make truly gripping reading and what’s awesome is I️ believe you could really do a great job of delivering it tastefully and well.



OMG, Von. I long for that villain I could write about with authority. I had a villain in _Surviving Nathan,_ but then I had to qualify him, show why he was the nasty person he was, and while I think it was appropriate for that book, it really diminished his villain-ness. LOL. Its my flaw. It is a hurdle I have to overcome, because if I don't, my stories/books are just about boring good people who live life - and you can only take so much of that - right? Thanks so much for your comments, Von. The villain is my next conquest.


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## bdcharles (Nov 20, 2017)

SueC said:


> I had to qualify him, show why he was the nasty person he was, and while I think it was appropriate for that book, it really diminished his villain-ness. LOL. Its my flaw



Hehe I know what you mean. It does beg the question of how much motivation antagonists need, which in turn raises a possible theme of what makes people do bad things. Possible thread starter, I'm wondering...


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## SueC (Nov 21, 2017)

BD. Holy cow, don't even get me started.  The more involved I get in the why's of the actions of my characters, the more humane and beleaguered they become. And then my writing becomes more sympathetic and then we have a hero instead of a villain. Even in real life, I often wonder how a "perp" got to that place, where he has done such awful things. So - not saying it's impossible - but it's a huge struggle to commit myself to a villain and stick with it.


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## Jack of all trades (Nov 21, 2017)

SueC said:


> BD. Holy cow, don't even get me started.  The more involved I get in the why's of the actions of my characters, the more humane and beleaguered they become. And then my writing becomes more sympathetic and then we have a hero instead of a villain. Even in real life, I often wonder how a "perp" got to that place, where he has done such awful things. So - not saying it's impossible - but it's a huge struggle to commit myself to a villain and stick with it.



How about keeping the villian hidden until the big reveal at the end? Then you, and the reader, won't become attached to him/her. Just a thought.


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## bdcharles (Nov 21, 2017)

SueC said:


> BD. Holy cow, don't even get me started.  The more involved I get in the why's of the actions of my characters, the more humane and beleaguered they become. And then my writing becomes more sympathetic and then we have a hero instead of a villain. Even in real life, I often wonder how a "perp" got to that place, where he has done such awful things. So - not saying it's impossible - but it's a huge struggle to commit myself to a villain and stick with it.



Perhaps you need to fraternise with more ... nefarious types? For inspiration, of course 

BTW I started a new thread about this - hope that's ok?


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## VonBradstein (Nov 21, 2017)

SueC said:


> OMG, Von. I long for that villain I could write about with authority. I had a villain in _Surviving Nathan,_ but then I had to qualify him, show why he was the nasty person he was, and while I think it was appropriate for that book, it really diminished his villain-ness. LOL. Its my flaw. It is a hurdle I have to overcome, because if I don't, my stories/books are just about boring good people who live life - and you can only take so much of that - right? Thanks so much for your comments, Von. The villain is my next conquest.



You can qualify the bad folks! I’m not a huge fan of cartoon bad guys honestly. Sometimes they’re effective but I️ think these days we tend to be less reactive to blatant displays of good and evil.

You seem to be (correct if wrong) an author aspiring toward what is generally called “literary fiction”, which is kind of a vague and slippery catch all for anything that is not genre fiction (horror, sci fi, etc). The main uniting theme of literary fiction is that it explores the “human condition”. This makes it simultaneously the most straightforward and most challenging of the “genres” out there. It is also why most genre fiction writers (rightfully) sniff at the label because we don’t feel something that broad belongs to a single market of books, especially ones which tend to be more different than similar from one another. But I️ digress. For the purpose of this point, let’s go with that...

Part of your strength is in knowing people and I️ advocate keeping that. My main vision for your work is about enhancing the width and depth of your characters traits more than it is creating a whole different line of characters. Might sound a trivial difference but what I’m really saying is that you could do a great job of having a normal person feel villainous thoughts or commit villainous actions but still seeming to be a normal, empathetic character. Once you can make Tony The Good Dad do something terrible but still maintain a plausible identity as Tony The Good Dad you have hit a kind of sweet spot.

A good example is the character of Javert in Hugo’s Les Miserables. He is undoubtedly the antagonist and does many a villainous bastard thing, but he is also a kind of antihero in the sense that you completely understand why he is the way he is. In some ways he is the perfect counter to the protagonist, Jean Valjean because despite being entirely different he shares a similar background of poverty and hardship and the contrast is effective. Similarly Valjean is no angel. The idea is to explore non binary characteristics and to achieve a kind of harmony between the different attitudes and motivations.


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## SueC (Nov 21, 2017)

Thank you for this, Von, and you've given me something to chew on. Unfortunately, I don't know any bad people. I do know crabby people and bitter people, people who claim not to care but really do, and hurt people. I've never really encountered someone who just doesn't give a flying fig and hurts everyone in his or her path. So, my imagination is somewhat limited assigning qualities that you speak of. I can only go on hearsay. For example, when I see the news and I hear of some youngster - 15 or so - shooting someone, I think, I wonder how that felt? And how, at 15, did he become so jaded that shooting someone was part of his profile. Then we see mug shots and the faces we see looking back at us makes us think they really are capable, even at 15, of hurting or killing another living soul. But how to write that story, that's the problem. I will work on your suggestions, because I think they have value and I believe I am capable of doing this. Yeah! Go Sue!  LOL


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