Wavedancer Project: commentary, part three
May. 3rd, 2009 11:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valis2Intro/Index of all parts | Read without the commentary
Lucinda Jensen was there, and I cursed under my breath, as she was the biggest and most annoying gossip in town by far. She was also quasi-religious, and firmly convinced that Mike and I were living in sin, and, despite my attempts to explain the divided house that we shared, I couldn't seem to get her to understand that we were just friends. It aggravated the hell out of me, though Mike acted like he couldn't be bothered by it. Hopefully I could just grab a cart and sneak away without a pointed lecture on the sanctity of marriage, but I wasn't optimistic.
This is weird. And it's more of the Oppress the Poor Girl scenario, as well as Attack the Closed-Minded. Ugh. I wasn't very subtle, was I?
I mean, the paragraph isn't poorly written, but it's definitely poorly thought-out. I really didn't understand the Simple Rule of Side Characters, which is: they are separate entities from the background/plot/whatever else is going on, and they should be treated as thus. In other words, you spend tons of time looking through the eyes of your main characters, but don't forget the side characters. Just a few moments of being in their head could be enough to really make a fic sparkle. Seriously.
Let me also stop for a moment here and try to explain Sarah's divided house concept.
The fact that I have to explain it is a pretty big red flag that it's an annoying idea. Anyway, the idea was that Sarah and Mike live in a house on the island. Their docks are also on the property, as well as the boatshed.
The house is a huge house originally built by Mr. Ames. Then it was bought by Sarah's father, who attempted to turn it into some sort of college housing project. It's divided into two, and there's part of a wall that separates them. The two sides of the house are similar, with a big open living room/kitchen space and three rooms, and a set of stairs that leads to three rooms upstairs. There's a huge fireplace on each side. Mike's side is slightly smaller because his fireplace is freestanding in the middle of the living room; her fireplace is set into the wall that separates them.
See? Too much. The eyes glaze over. Plus, there has to be a complicated origins story because this housing setup doesn't make sense otherwise. It's kind of difficult for people to visualize.
That said, I do love it--it's almost like it's out of a sitcom, honestly. Remember the unisex bathrooms in Ally McBeal? Yeah, that sort of ridiculous detail that really doesn't exist much in RL, but does further someone's plot on a TV show. I have such a soft spot for this house, honestly. I can really see it very well in my head because I obsessed over it for years.
But when it comes down to it, the divided house is just a bit too unbelievable, and too much of an obvious plot device. I mean, I needed some way to throw them together continuously. I don't know how I'd handle it differently today.
I was so busy plotting the most unobtrusive route past Lucy that I didn't even notice that Charlotte Ames, Lucinda's best friend, was beside me. "Hello, dearie," she beamed. "How are you doing?"
So much for espionage, I lamented to myself. "I'm good, thanks." I determinedly continued walking past her to the cart foyer.
Okay, so here we have yet another sign of my writing ignorance at the time. The character of Sarah is supposed to be working-class, not terribly sophisticated, and very down to earth. Yet she "laments" to herself. You've probably noticed a few other examples of her using unwieldy language in her narrative as well. It's just too much. This kind of character should keep it simple.
I've learned a lot about POV (I hope) over the past few years, and one of the things I've really noticed is that you need to match the POV voice to the character. Oddly enough, this is one of those things that I think is taught extremely well by writing fanfiction. A Snape who sounds like Hagrid would be laughed at, for example. Because the characters are already so well known, fanfic writers need to write their voices very well.
Not only does "lament" not work, it's unnecessary. It could have ended at the comma, and been leaner and stronger. As with the rest of this fic. Her inner voice doesn't sound right.
Without missing a beat, she exclaimed, "Oh Lucy, look who's here."
Lucinda turned and her eyes brightened. I could imagine a big red bullseye superimposed over me. "Here to stock up for the storm, I see," she nodded approvingly.
Ah yes, those stock characters. The town gossip who feels she needs to boss everyone around.
I have no qualms about having named her Lucinda. An old-fashioned name is a cue to readers about her old-fashioned ways, I think. Though many of the readers thought it was a crazy name.
You know, I have met someone named Lucinda. She goes by "Cindy."
I smiled patiently as I walked through the foyer doors and pulled a cart out. When I reemerged she was waiting for me, and I steeled myself for the inevitable monologue she seemed to feel required to give me. I supposed it went back to the fact that my mother passed away giving birth to me, and the town ladies had decided that it was their duty to make sure I was brought up properly. Lucinda was always first in line to visit us, and she dropped in continually, leaving casseroles and outgrown dresses from her daughters until the day she found me covered in mud on the front porch gutting a catfish. After that the town ladies stopped by less and less. Of course it may also have had something to do with the rumor that Charlotte had seen both dresses and casseroles firmly deposited in the trash by my father.
*sings a song of exposition* Though it wasn't too badly done. heh.
I especially love the catfish bit. I mean, hell, she did live on a river, so it's not terribly far-fetched. And she would have learned to gut a fish really early on, so that rings true.
"My dear," began Lucinda. "I have the most wonderful news for you. You know we've remodeled the basement for my youngest daughter Judy, but since she's off in college"--there was an air of triumph to the word, and I wondered briefly if she was pointedly referring to the fact that I hadn't gone to college--"I thought that Mike could stay with us this winter. He could plow the driveway and chop wood, and we'd be glad to have the company. You know, cooking for one extra isn't a problem--"
I am so mystified by this. Is it that she wants Sarah to be not living in sin, or that she wants Mike away from Sarah, or that she wants Judy to marry Mike? This is a bizarro conversation. No, really. And it sounds like Lucinda is drooling at having her own personal woodchopper.
You see what I mean? A little time to figure out exactly what Lucinda wants would have really helped all of this immensely.
Her age needs work, too. Honestly, I thought of her in her sixties. Though now that I think of it, if she had Judy when she was forty, she could be nearly sixty, but this is really pushing it. I should have made Judy her granddaughter or really thought this through better.
"You'd have to ask Mike about that," I said, my smile forced, no longer patient.
"It would be for his own good," blathered Charlotte.
Blathered is a terrible word choice. And wow, insulting much?
I clenched the cart so hard I thought the plastic would shatter. "As I said," I repeated very clearly, "you would have to ask him about it. I don't speak for him."
Lucinda fixed my eyes with a fierce gaze and drew herself up to her full height, which was still almost a head shorter than mine. "I've a mind to speak plainly," she said, very seriously.
I dreaded her next comments. "I've never stopped you before."
Shopping carts are usually made of metal, so the shattering plastic things is silly.
"There's an age where you should settle down," she said bluntly. "I worry about you out on lonely Moray. You should be wearing a ring so he doesn't just up and leave you."
But she was just trying to get Mike to move into her basement. Does she want them married or...? I have no idea what is going on.
"It would be for the best," chimed in Charlotte.
"Either you marry him or make him move out," she said emphatically.
As much as I like the confrontation, it's way too confusing. And all of the exposition at the beginning about her being "quasi-religious" (which is a weird term for her, she IS religious) is very strange as well. And unnecessary.
I never got to say any of the nasty words that filled my head because Mike suddenly came up and pulled me away from Lucy and Charlotte by my elbow, saying something about needing help deciphering the list. As we passed the aisles he chuckled. "Thought you could use some help escaping the Town Menace," he smiled.
I was still angry. I realized he was still pulling me by my arm and I shrugged easily out of his grasp. He looked puzzled. "I left the cart," I mumbled.
Fortunately Lucy and Charlotte had left, as I was still fuming from her insensitive words. Even Mike, one of the most easygoing people I have ever met, disliked her intensely.
Aw, Mike to the rescue! And it's a good thing he's so easygoing or he'd never be able to put up with crabby Sarah, who is coming up next.
And shouldn't it be "their" insensitive words? It's not like Charlotte was nice, either.
"Hey, are you okay?" asked Mike, who had caught up to me.
"I'm fine," I said quickly.
His look told me that I hadn't convinced him, but he still walked off down the canned goods aisle.
Between the list and stocking up for the storm we completely filled both carts. As we stood waiting in line Mike suddenly looked at me. "I forgot the steaks," he groaned.
"Don't worry about it," I said, aware that the two carts were going to add up to a small fortune.
"I'll be right back," he said, casually walking off before I could protest further.
I turned my attention back to tabulating the expense of each item, cringing when I realized that the cash I had brought wouldn't even cover the first cart. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Mike had enough to afford the rest, even though Derek or Paul would give me credit in a heartbeat. The lady in front of me--Agnes, Dr. Neil's wife--finished paying and walked off with the bagger to help her load her car.
There is such a simple solution to this. It's so obvious that it makes me think she really IS a boozehound. PUT THE VODKA BACK. It's expensive, yes?
I stepped up and started unloading the cart, re-adding the amounts in my head as I placed each item on the counter. Mike came up with a thick package from the butcher's counter, and I almost flinched at the price. Not that I was a cheapskate or afraid to spend money, but it was the end of the season, and I had sold the snow removal business over a year and a half ago. It made the off-season more difficult, as I had no more money coming in until the summer, and it made me worry even more that my small savings were dwindling. I had only a small portion of the inheritance money left from my father. There were, of course, two accounts I had set aside, one for my "future", and one that Mike wasn't aware of--it was for him when he decided to leave--but I never touched those.
Oh, more stupid wish-fulfillment crap. Stupid--just a few pages ago I wrote about how she's making more of a profit each year, and now suddenly she's freaking out about money--but it's the end of the season! She should be flush with cash right now.
Also, why the hell would she give him a bonus for when he finally quits her business? *rolls eyes* I mean, a little one, maybe, but a whole account? Dumb. Unrealistic. Though it does point to an unhealthy obsession with him...
And one other thing. She'd get an influx of cash from the outdoor shows, because, unless she is a complete and utter dolt (um, the jury's still out on this), she would be taking deposits for all of the charters she books at them.
"You shouldn't let them bother you so much," he said, leaning towards me to say it quietly in my ear. I caught the stray scent of his aftershave.
Okay, I did like that quite a bit. Mmm. I love whispering in ears. Makes me weak in the knees.
"I'm worried about paying for this right now," I replied, perhaps a little more sharply than I intended.
"I told you I brought cash," he answered, pushing the first car through.
"There's a lot here," I said, feeling silly for even bringing it up. The girl ringing us up--Annie? I thought, one of Charlotte's granddaughters--gave me an I-can't-believe-you're-hassling-someone-this-cute look. "Just forget that I said anything," I added tiredly.
lol, Annie! I love that look.
Mike started unloading the other cart in silence, and, as the stockboy had not returned from helping Agnes load her car, I walked to the end of the lane and began to bag the groceries myself.
"I'm gonna go put this in the truck," I said to Mike when I finished filling the cart. The fall air was cold and clear as I unlocked the gate and swung it down to unload the bags into the back. I was just putting the last bag in when Mike brought the other cart out.
Aha! I was trying to remember why two carts were involved. They're the deus ex machina for the heated discussion.
"How much do they need?" I asked, pulling cash out of my pocket.
"I took care of it," he replied, pushing a bag of groceries into the truck.
I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible. "You took care of it?"
Warning: impending crankiness.
He nodded and swung another bag of groceries into the trunk. I turned to the cart as well and helped pack the remaining sacks in. I got into the driver's seat and when we were underway I took a calming breath and asked, "So how much was it?"
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"How much was it?" I repeated, and it was difficult to remove the irritation from my voice. When he hired on I told him that his pay included room and board, and, other than a few odds and ends, I had always purchased all of the groceries myself. It was a responsibility I took very seriously, as I knew the hard work and long hours he put into my business. I wasn't about to let it go unrewarded. It wasn't like I could afford a comprehensive health plan, Christmas bonus, and annual raises, after all.
But you can afford a sekrit "account" for when he leaves you! *rolls eyes* Better to give him the money NOW and have him stay on as a valued employee. Srsly.
"I said don't worry about it." He reached out and turned the radio on, and the faint light from the dashboard revealed the strong line of his jaw.
I turned the radio off again. "I'm already worried about it," I retorted irritatedly. "Just tell me how much it was so I can reimburse you."
"Can't you just let me help out for once?" He was looking at me angrily, his blue eyes sparking in the dim light.
I took another calming breath and tried to cool my temper. "Look, it's my respons--"
"Why do you always do this?" he interrupted. "You work a twenty hour day, and get mad at me for working twelve! I just can't sit back and let you do everything."
"That's because it's my business," I snapped. "If it was yours, you'd do the same thing."
"I don't think so," he said coolly.
"Don't give me that," I replied angrily. "I remember when you came back. You worked plenty of twenty hour days yourself when you were running your dad's business."
Wow, now I understand why readers were confused by the heat in this argument.
This is another one of those beginning writer things. Conflict and tension are great, but they have to be real, and it has to be balanced, most of all. If the characters are snapping at each other, it's a terrific way to build emotion, but if it's over the top and it's not immediately understandable, you end up freaking out the reader.
This is definitely too much reaction, too soon. I can almost explain it away, because I know the characters, but still, it needs a more delicate touch. If I were to revise it now, I'd ramp down the tension quite a bit.
Also, the classic losing-temper scenario is very much a hallmark of a lot of beginning writers. I think it's a way to sort out internal issues for some. Want to yell at someone in your everyday life, but can't? I'll write some sort of yelling scene. For me, it was about being in control, and also because I grew up with quick temper stuff. You see, I have a short fuse, and once I yell, it's all done. My family is like that as well. It's taken me years to understand that other people aren't like that. I can go from bored to RAGING to happy in the space of a few minutes, and then be perfectly fine. That really freaked Husband out at first, lol.
Anyway, point is, in RL Mike would not be very happy about this sort of conversation, and I think it's too intense. And what does it accomplish? Hmm. I'll have to read on and see...
"That was different. He was sick."
"What matters is that we made a deal, and I'm sticking to it," I said. "I'll call tomorrow and find out how much it was."
The truck was filled with tension. "What the hell did they say to you to put you in such an awful mood?"
"It has nothing to do with what they said," I said, gripping the wheel tighter. "I just don't appreciate--"
"I don't appreciate being coddled," he interrupted. "I can work as long as you if I want to. It's my choice. And I can pay for the occasional batch of groceries."
"You don't want to be coddled, but then right in front of everybody in the grocery store you pay for the groceries!" I spat. "How do you think I feel? It looks like I'm broke and relying on you!"
"Is that what Lucinda was saying?" he demanded.
"No," I said. "She wants you to move into her basement," I added, keeping my words precisely clipped.
I watched him steal a glance at me, and I wondered for a moment how it would feel to spend the winter alone in that big house. "She's batty," he said finally.
The ride was silent for a few more minutes. "Look, I'm sorry," he said. "It just drives me crazy that you never seem to want any more help. You've always got to do everything your way and by yourself. It's not--it can't be good for you."
"The only thing fixed in my life," I said pointedly as we pulled into the drive, "is myself." I glanced at him and was surprised to see hurt flash across his face.
Wow, that is harsh. I mean, I was just so determined to make her strong and self-sufficient, but wow. That was such a nasty low blow for her to make, and I'm thinking that I did it just because I like the line so much, not because I really thought it was required. Then again, the character is kind of obtuse--she doesn't really understand other people incredibly well, and shuts herself off--so maybe she thought it was very obvious to Mike this whole time that she was completely antisocial, and now she's surprised that he hasn't realized it.
And I'm sad about the harshness--he's just apologized to her, yet she was the one being ridiculous! And then she's all harsh on top of it.
On to part four
Read this section without the commentary
Lucinda Jensen was there, and I cursed under my breath, as she was the biggest and most annoying gossip in town by far. She was also quasi-religious, and firmly convinced that Mike and I were living in sin, and, despite my attempts to explain the divided house that we shared, I couldn't seem to get her to understand that we were just friends. It aggravated the hell out of me, though Mike acted like he couldn't be bothered by it. Hopefully I could just grab a cart and sneak away without a pointed lecture on the sanctity of marriage, but I wasn't optimistic.
This is weird. And it's more of the Oppress the Poor Girl scenario, as well as Attack the Closed-Minded. Ugh. I wasn't very subtle, was I?
I mean, the paragraph isn't poorly written, but it's definitely poorly thought-out. I really didn't understand the Simple Rule of Side Characters, which is: they are separate entities from the background/plot/whatever else is going on, and they should be treated as thus. In other words, you spend tons of time looking through the eyes of your main characters, but don't forget the side characters. Just a few moments of being in their head could be enough to really make a fic sparkle. Seriously.
Let me also stop for a moment here and try to explain Sarah's divided house concept.
The fact that I have to explain it is a pretty big red flag that it's an annoying idea. Anyway, the idea was that Sarah and Mike live in a house on the island. Their docks are also on the property, as well as the boatshed.
The house is a huge house originally built by Mr. Ames. Then it was bought by Sarah's father, who attempted to turn it into some sort of college housing project. It's divided into two, and there's part of a wall that separates them. The two sides of the house are similar, with a big open living room/kitchen space and three rooms, and a set of stairs that leads to three rooms upstairs. There's a huge fireplace on each side. Mike's side is slightly smaller because his fireplace is freestanding in the middle of the living room; her fireplace is set into the wall that separates them.
See? Too much. The eyes glaze over. Plus, there has to be a complicated origins story because this housing setup doesn't make sense otherwise. It's kind of difficult for people to visualize.
That said, I do love it--it's almost like it's out of a sitcom, honestly. Remember the unisex bathrooms in Ally McBeal? Yeah, that sort of ridiculous detail that really doesn't exist much in RL, but does further someone's plot on a TV show. I have such a soft spot for this house, honestly. I can really see it very well in my head because I obsessed over it for years.
But when it comes down to it, the divided house is just a bit too unbelievable, and too much of an obvious plot device. I mean, I needed some way to throw them together continuously. I don't know how I'd handle it differently today.
I was so busy plotting the most unobtrusive route past Lucy that I didn't even notice that Charlotte Ames, Lucinda's best friend, was beside me. "Hello, dearie," she beamed. "How are you doing?"
So much for espionage, I lamented to myself. "I'm good, thanks." I determinedly continued walking past her to the cart foyer.
Okay, so here we have yet another sign of my writing ignorance at the time. The character of Sarah is supposed to be working-class, not terribly sophisticated, and very down to earth. Yet she "laments" to herself. You've probably noticed a few other examples of her using unwieldy language in her narrative as well. It's just too much. This kind of character should keep it simple.
I've learned a lot about POV (I hope) over the past few years, and one of the things I've really noticed is that you need to match the POV voice to the character. Oddly enough, this is one of those things that I think is taught extremely well by writing fanfiction. A Snape who sounds like Hagrid would be laughed at, for example. Because the characters are already so well known, fanfic writers need to write their voices very well.
Not only does "lament" not work, it's unnecessary. It could have ended at the comma, and been leaner and stronger. As with the rest of this fic. Her inner voice doesn't sound right.
Without missing a beat, she exclaimed, "Oh Lucy, look who's here."
Lucinda turned and her eyes brightened. I could imagine a big red bullseye superimposed over me. "Here to stock up for the storm, I see," she nodded approvingly.
Ah yes, those stock characters. The town gossip who feels she needs to boss everyone around.
I have no qualms about having named her Lucinda. An old-fashioned name is a cue to readers about her old-fashioned ways, I think. Though many of the readers thought it was a crazy name.
You know, I have met someone named Lucinda. She goes by "Cindy."
I smiled patiently as I walked through the foyer doors and pulled a cart out. When I reemerged she was waiting for me, and I steeled myself for the inevitable monologue she seemed to feel required to give me. I supposed it went back to the fact that my mother passed away giving birth to me, and the town ladies had decided that it was their duty to make sure I was brought up properly. Lucinda was always first in line to visit us, and she dropped in continually, leaving casseroles and outgrown dresses from her daughters until the day she found me covered in mud on the front porch gutting a catfish. After that the town ladies stopped by less and less. Of course it may also have had something to do with the rumor that Charlotte had seen both dresses and casseroles firmly deposited in the trash by my father.
*sings a song of exposition* Though it wasn't too badly done. heh.
I especially love the catfish bit. I mean, hell, she did live on a river, so it's not terribly far-fetched. And she would have learned to gut a fish really early on, so that rings true.
"My dear," began Lucinda. "I have the most wonderful news for you. You know we've remodeled the basement for my youngest daughter Judy, but since she's off in college"--there was an air of triumph to the word, and I wondered briefly if she was pointedly referring to the fact that I hadn't gone to college--"I thought that Mike could stay with us this winter. He could plow the driveway and chop wood, and we'd be glad to have the company. You know, cooking for one extra isn't a problem--"
I am so mystified by this. Is it that she wants Sarah to be not living in sin, or that she wants Mike away from Sarah, or that she wants Judy to marry Mike? This is a bizarro conversation. No, really. And it sounds like Lucinda is drooling at having her own personal woodchopper.
You see what I mean? A little time to figure out exactly what Lucinda wants would have really helped all of this immensely.
Her age needs work, too. Honestly, I thought of her in her sixties. Though now that I think of it, if she had Judy when she was forty, she could be nearly sixty, but this is really pushing it. I should have made Judy her granddaughter or really thought this through better.
"You'd have to ask Mike about that," I said, my smile forced, no longer patient.
"It would be for his own good," blathered Charlotte.
Blathered is a terrible word choice. And wow, insulting much?
I clenched the cart so hard I thought the plastic would shatter. "As I said," I repeated very clearly, "you would have to ask him about it. I don't speak for him."
Lucinda fixed my eyes with a fierce gaze and drew herself up to her full height, which was still almost a head shorter than mine. "I've a mind to speak plainly," she said, very seriously.
I dreaded her next comments. "I've never stopped you before."
Shopping carts are usually made of metal, so the shattering plastic things is silly.
"There's an age where you should settle down," she said bluntly. "I worry about you out on lonely Moray. You should be wearing a ring so he doesn't just up and leave you."
But she was just trying to get Mike to move into her basement. Does she want them married or...? I have no idea what is going on.
"It would be for the best," chimed in Charlotte.
"Either you marry him or make him move out," she said emphatically.
As much as I like the confrontation, it's way too confusing. And all of the exposition at the beginning about her being "quasi-religious" (which is a weird term for her, she IS religious) is very strange as well. And unnecessary.
I never got to say any of the nasty words that filled my head because Mike suddenly came up and pulled me away from Lucy and Charlotte by my elbow, saying something about needing help deciphering the list. As we passed the aisles he chuckled. "Thought you could use some help escaping the Town Menace," he smiled.
I was still angry. I realized he was still pulling me by my arm and I shrugged easily out of his grasp. He looked puzzled. "I left the cart," I mumbled.
Fortunately Lucy and Charlotte had left, as I was still fuming from her insensitive words. Even Mike, one of the most easygoing people I have ever met, disliked her intensely.
Aw, Mike to the rescue! And it's a good thing he's so easygoing or he'd never be able to put up with crabby Sarah, who is coming up next.
And shouldn't it be "their" insensitive words? It's not like Charlotte was nice, either.
"Hey, are you okay?" asked Mike, who had caught up to me.
"I'm fine," I said quickly.
His look told me that I hadn't convinced him, but he still walked off down the canned goods aisle.
Between the list and stocking up for the storm we completely filled both carts. As we stood waiting in line Mike suddenly looked at me. "I forgot the steaks," he groaned.
"Don't worry about it," I said, aware that the two carts were going to add up to a small fortune.
"I'll be right back," he said, casually walking off before I could protest further.
I turned my attention back to tabulating the expense of each item, cringing when I realized that the cash I had brought wouldn't even cover the first cart. I crossed my fingers, hoping that Mike had enough to afford the rest, even though Derek or Paul would give me credit in a heartbeat. The lady in front of me--Agnes, Dr. Neil's wife--finished paying and walked off with the bagger to help her load her car.
There is such a simple solution to this. It's so obvious that it makes me think she really IS a boozehound. PUT THE VODKA BACK. It's expensive, yes?
I stepped up and started unloading the cart, re-adding the amounts in my head as I placed each item on the counter. Mike came up with a thick package from the butcher's counter, and I almost flinched at the price. Not that I was a cheapskate or afraid to spend money, but it was the end of the season, and I had sold the snow removal business over a year and a half ago. It made the off-season more difficult, as I had no more money coming in until the summer, and it made me worry even more that my small savings were dwindling. I had only a small portion of the inheritance money left from my father. There were, of course, two accounts I had set aside, one for my "future", and one that Mike wasn't aware of--it was for him when he decided to leave--but I never touched those.
Oh, more stupid wish-fulfillment crap. Stupid--just a few pages ago I wrote about how she's making more of a profit each year, and now suddenly she's freaking out about money--but it's the end of the season! She should be flush with cash right now.
Also, why the hell would she give him a bonus for when he finally quits her business? *rolls eyes* I mean, a little one, maybe, but a whole account? Dumb. Unrealistic. Though it does point to an unhealthy obsession with him...
And one other thing. She'd get an influx of cash from the outdoor shows, because, unless she is a complete and utter dolt (um, the jury's still out on this), she would be taking deposits for all of the charters she books at them.
"You shouldn't let them bother you so much," he said, leaning towards me to say it quietly in my ear. I caught the stray scent of his aftershave.
Okay, I did like that quite a bit. Mmm. I love whispering in ears. Makes me weak in the knees.
"I'm worried about paying for this right now," I replied, perhaps a little more sharply than I intended.
"I told you I brought cash," he answered, pushing the first car through.
"There's a lot here," I said, feeling silly for even bringing it up. The girl ringing us up--Annie? I thought, one of Charlotte's granddaughters--gave me an I-can't-believe-you're-hassling-someone-this-cute look. "Just forget that I said anything," I added tiredly.
lol, Annie! I love that look.
Mike started unloading the other cart in silence, and, as the stockboy had not returned from helping Agnes load her car, I walked to the end of the lane and began to bag the groceries myself.
"I'm gonna go put this in the truck," I said to Mike when I finished filling the cart. The fall air was cold and clear as I unlocked the gate and swung it down to unload the bags into the back. I was just putting the last bag in when Mike brought the other cart out.
Aha! I was trying to remember why two carts were involved. They're the deus ex machina for the heated discussion.
"How much do they need?" I asked, pulling cash out of my pocket.
"I took care of it," he replied, pushing a bag of groceries into the truck.
I tried to keep my tone as casual as possible. "You took care of it?"
Warning: impending crankiness.
He nodded and swung another bag of groceries into the trunk. I turned to the cart as well and helped pack the remaining sacks in. I got into the driver's seat and when we were underway I took a calming breath and asked, "So how much was it?"
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"How much was it?" I repeated, and it was difficult to remove the irritation from my voice. When he hired on I told him that his pay included room and board, and, other than a few odds and ends, I had always purchased all of the groceries myself. It was a responsibility I took very seriously, as I knew the hard work and long hours he put into my business. I wasn't about to let it go unrewarded. It wasn't like I could afford a comprehensive health plan, Christmas bonus, and annual raises, after all.
But you can afford a sekrit "account" for when he leaves you! *rolls eyes* Better to give him the money NOW and have him stay on as a valued employee. Srsly.
"I said don't worry about it." He reached out and turned the radio on, and the faint light from the dashboard revealed the strong line of his jaw.
I turned the radio off again. "I'm already worried about it," I retorted irritatedly. "Just tell me how much it was so I can reimburse you."
"Can't you just let me help out for once?" He was looking at me angrily, his blue eyes sparking in the dim light.
I took another calming breath and tried to cool my temper. "Look, it's my respons--"
"Why do you always do this?" he interrupted. "You work a twenty hour day, and get mad at me for working twelve! I just can't sit back and let you do everything."
"That's because it's my business," I snapped. "If it was yours, you'd do the same thing."
"I don't think so," he said coolly.
"Don't give me that," I replied angrily. "I remember when you came back. You worked plenty of twenty hour days yourself when you were running your dad's business."
Wow, now I understand why readers were confused by the heat in this argument.
This is another one of those beginning writer things. Conflict and tension are great, but they have to be real, and it has to be balanced, most of all. If the characters are snapping at each other, it's a terrific way to build emotion, but if it's over the top and it's not immediately understandable, you end up freaking out the reader.
This is definitely too much reaction, too soon. I can almost explain it away, because I know the characters, but still, it needs a more delicate touch. If I were to revise it now, I'd ramp down the tension quite a bit.
Also, the classic losing-temper scenario is very much a hallmark of a lot of beginning writers. I think it's a way to sort out internal issues for some. Want to yell at someone in your everyday life, but can't? I'll write some sort of yelling scene. For me, it was about being in control, and also because I grew up with quick temper stuff. You see, I have a short fuse, and once I yell, it's all done. My family is like that as well. It's taken me years to understand that other people aren't like that. I can go from bored to RAGING to happy in the space of a few minutes, and then be perfectly fine. That really freaked Husband out at first, lol.
Anyway, point is, in RL Mike would not be very happy about this sort of conversation, and I think it's too intense. And what does it accomplish? Hmm. I'll have to read on and see...
"That was different. He was sick."
"What matters is that we made a deal, and I'm sticking to it," I said. "I'll call tomorrow and find out how much it was."
The truck was filled with tension. "What the hell did they say to you to put you in such an awful mood?"
"It has nothing to do with what they said," I said, gripping the wheel tighter. "I just don't appreciate--"
"I don't appreciate being coddled," he interrupted. "I can work as long as you if I want to. It's my choice. And I can pay for the occasional batch of groceries."
"You don't want to be coddled, but then right in front of everybody in the grocery store you pay for the groceries!" I spat. "How do you think I feel? It looks like I'm broke and relying on you!"
"Is that what Lucinda was saying?" he demanded.
"No," I said. "She wants you to move into her basement," I added, keeping my words precisely clipped.
I watched him steal a glance at me, and I wondered for a moment how it would feel to spend the winter alone in that big house. "She's batty," he said finally.
The ride was silent for a few more minutes. "Look, I'm sorry," he said. "It just drives me crazy that you never seem to want any more help. You've always got to do everything your way and by yourself. It's not--it can't be good for you."
"The only thing fixed in my life," I said pointedly as we pulled into the drive, "is myself." I glanced at him and was surprised to see hurt flash across his face.
Wow, that is harsh. I mean, I was just so determined to make her strong and self-sufficient, but wow. That was such a nasty low blow for her to make, and I'm thinking that I did it just because I like the line so much, not because I really thought it was required. Then again, the character is kind of obtuse--she doesn't really understand other people incredibly well, and shuts herself off--so maybe she thought it was very obvious to Mike this whole time that she was completely antisocial, and now she's surprised that he hasn't realized it.
And I'm sad about the harshness--he's just apologized to her, yet she was the one being ridiculous! And then she's all harsh on top of it.
On to part four
Read this section without the commentary
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(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-03 10:24 pm (UTC)ahahaha
Your insights are, as always, insightful to read ^_^ I wish I was able to do this with my own stuff. Right now, I can usually tell which sentence isn't working, but I generally can't figure out why so re-writing is a struggle. (Maybe I should attempt my own commentary?)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-04 01:13 am (UTC)And as for rewriting--I absolutely hate rewriting, honestly. I will fix words here and there, but adding or deleting chunks makes me crazy. It really is a struggle for me, too. Generally I do very little revision for that very reason. Sad, but true. :(
And commentaries are so much fun! I'm enjoying the hell out of this. Definitely worth a try. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-04 07:33 am (UTC)I suppose you could have had her in a house and him living in something attached to the boatshed, so they were on the same property. Or have one of them living in a part of the house with separate entrace, like the Fonz.
Also, she pays for all the groceries? Even his shampoo and such? Man, Mike is onto a good thing. Although it must be stifling for him.
the Simple Rule of Side Characters
Is such an important thing to understand. It was a huge breakthrough the day I realised that people aren't, say, nosy just to be nosy; they have their own POV too.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-04 03:07 pm (UTC)Yes, both of those are better solutions than the strange divided house concept.
At the time, I really wanted him to be able to see her sleeping on the couch and feel sorry for her. I really think that's what the biggest motivator was for having the house like that. Also, the later plot hinges on it. Now, though, I would avoid such a strange location. *nodnod*
Also, she pays for all the groceries? Even his shampoo and such? Man, Mike is onto a good thing. Although it must be stifling for him.
hee! Well, she does say that he pays for "odds and ends," which probably means stuff like that.
Poor Mike, though. He really is waaay under her thumb. They live together, work together, and she's so constantly in motion that by trying to help her, he's set himself up to be in constant motion too. *shakes head* She's sooo lucky she found him and that he agreed to
slavework for her.It was a huge breakthrough the day I realised that people aren't, say, nosy just to be nosy; they have their own POV too.
Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
At this point I give the side characters "time in my head." I don't mean that I develop entire civilizations for them, but just giving them a little time to figure out where they're coming from--even if it never ends up in the story--can be so helpful.