Why you don't get published.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
New Beginning 36
There is no God.
Brendan Oakes stared down his outstretched arm to the gun resting in his limp hand. Beyond it, crusted runners of spoiled milk adorning the arm of his natty couch. He never thought he would own a plaid couch, or a fifteen-inch television with shitty reception. Or a secondhand bed. Or a secondhand life.
He slouched further into the cushions. As he shifted, the rank odor of his own body assaulted his nostrils. One sprawled foot kicked a precarious pile of bowls and plates on the floor. They toppled, adding a rancid note to the stench as days-old remnants of food from cans were exposed to the air.
The phone rang. Brendan swiveled red-rimmed eyes in the general direction of the sound, surprised it was still connected. Probably a bill collector. Lately they'd taken to calling at odd hours, hoping to catch him off guard. He'd tell them to go to hell, but there was no hell—because there was no God.
Up in the control room, God watched dispassionately.
"Should We tell him yet?" asked his assistant, who hovered (literally) nearby with the obligatory cup of Peet's coffee.
"That he's the star of Heaven's new reality show, Don't Mess with the Big Guy?" God said. "No, let's see how much more he can take. Blow out his picture tube, give him a canker sore, and make sure the gun jams . . . Make that two canker sores."
Continuation: Jox
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25 comments:
I get the feeling that this is supposed to be a powerful and gripping first scene, but for some reason I'm not buying it. Like the author read, “How to Write and Sell Your First Novel” and took the advice about action beginnings a little too far. I need to care about this guy before I care if he’s about to die. I find myself hoping it is flash fiction and within the next twenty-five words I see this guys brains slipping down his wall.
See, I had exactly the opposite reaction. I thought there was a lot of originality in the way the author was presenting this guy's miserable life, especially the part at the end of the first paragraph. It's a little wordy-- I'd think about the spoiled milk line again and trim some of the adjectives in the second sentence-- but overall I think this works.
This sounds like a cross SteamBath by Bruce Jay Friedman wherein God appears as a Puerto Rican attendant in a steambath and the book of Job wherein God appears as himself.
IMHO - - - some of the descriptions are overwrought and hinder the story. I dn't know what a natty couch is and plaid is a cliche.
I like the repition of secondhand because it jars the reader.
I would replace "One sprawled foot kicked a precarious pile of bowls and plates on the floor. They toppled, adding a rancid note to the stench as days-old remnants of food from cans were exposed to the air." with tem words that say the same thing.
And I would say - His unwshed body offended him. He slouched and knocked over a stack of bowls.
And the phrase - it was still connected is so passive. try "The bill collectors wouldn't disocnnect the phone. They call at odd times to trick him."
And "because" is redundant in the next line.
Author, AUTHOR! (clapclapclap..) This rocks. You rock. The afterwords paled in comparison.
Is there more, pleaseplease? Thank you, and regards, Maggie
By the way, my last comment was in response to anon., not dave.
And the continuation was hilarious.
That call better be from aliens, killers, or the band of ruthless vigilante sorcerers after his family. The beginning paints a vivid picture, but it's the kind of picture that makes you want to hold your nose. (That's no insult to the writing, by the way. Cut a few adjectives, and we're good.) I need to be hooked fast to keep going.
Also? I think your second line is a stronger start than the first. 'Brendan stared down...' is more interesting. 'There is no God' leans toward the melodramtic.
Of course, scratch that last bit if it is actually God calling, and you mean to hammer that part home.
LOL at the continuation. OMG!
Too many adjectives in the opening, but other than that, I like it.
Some of the words are misused or distracting--sprawled (used with foot); swiveled (used with eyes--somehow seems off).
I like the repetition of second-hand, too.
And one more nitpick--the name. "Brendan Oakes" seems like something out a soap opera. Not quite real. If you want it to be real, give him a a different name, please. jmho.
My take: Tighten it up, but keep the mood. Thanks for sharing.
I thought I'd walked into Charles Bukowski's apartment after a bender.
Just a few things:
Resist melodrama. "There is no God."
I've heard that before.
"adorn" usually complements something. I'd choose a less pleasant word: permeated, soaked, stained.
That second paragraph is almost overkill. We know he lives in a shithole. You could work some of that detail into the first paragraph and end it with Or a secondhand bed. Or a secondhand life. These are the two strongest sentences that best convey his inner mood.
Brendan swiveled, his red rimmed eyes did not. It almost sounds like they're separate entities.
Integrate your movements, and cut to the chase: what's he thinking? Why is he there?
I look forward to the sequel.
There is no Santa Claus.
I don't always read the New Beginnings -- I'm here for the querys mostly, but this one grabbed my attention. I liked the opening.
The addition was amusing too, but doesn't change the fact that I thought that the opening was dynamic and exciting. Well done.
The last sentence is set up as a clincher,
He'd tell them to go to hell, but there was no hell—because there was no God.
but it’s overwrought and passive. The whole thing feels forced and rings false.
He never thought he would own a plaid couch, or a fifteen-inch television with shitty reception. Or a secondhand bed. Or a secondhand life.
I know someone said they like this, but I’m not sure why. It’s awkward and wordy.
It gave him a headache, peering at Seinfeld reruns through a storm of static. His days, streaming from one to the next, bracketed on either end by his secondhand couch and his secondhand bed. He lived his secondhand life.
JMHO, take it, leave it. Most people seem to like what you’re doing.
Hey wait... I'm an atheist. I get canker sores. JESUS CHRIST!
I liked it.
But "natty" doesn't mean what I think you think it means.
I had a plaid couch. It was a dark time. I identify with the reference.
It's a strong beginning, but what's happening with the gun in his hand? Which hand? Revolver or auto? Large caliber or small?Cocked or safe? Pointing where? These details would pull me into the scene and make me a believer.
Maybe you're about to go there in the next paragraph, but don't leave it too long.
I love the plaid couch. I mean, I hate a plaid couch, which is why I love this plaid couch. It's perfect. It's also why I don't like it being a natty couch. This guy wouldn't have one.
Great opening, but I have to have one complaint, so here it is: the gun has me tripped up. I thought he was standing at the opening, but learn he's sitting. That's okay. But I'm waiting for the gun info. Did he use it? His hand is limp, so I'm assuming he did. He's not staring at smoke coming out of it or residue on his hand though.
Give me the gun info soon and I'm happy, but I love the opening. Good luck!
John
Sorry, I did have one more thing.
Unless you have a very strong reason for the opening "There is no God" line, I'd start the story without that. Just me.
Didn't like the eye swivelling thang . . . but as an opening scene, this one hit the sensorium.
But what I want to know is when my son found the time to write this?
PicAxe
"Beyond it, crusted runners of spoiled milk adorning the arm of his natty couch."
There's a tense problem in this sentence.
"He never thought he would own a plaid couch, or a fifteen-inch television with shitty reception."
I prefer "He'd never thought he'd...". Or He had... if I was going for a Brideshead Revisited tone.
Tone (or maybe voice?) is my major issue here. I can't tell what it's meant to be - comic melodrama, noir thriller, literary, or what, really. Or is it all about finding faith?
I suppose the thing really is that it doesn't feel assured. Which I realise is totally subjective, and not very helpful, but it's what I feel.
In spite of some of the grammatical problems some have pointed out (and I rarely notice) I think the author did an excellent job of puting me "in" the scene with some good, original, visuals. -JTC
I thought these comments were really interesting. I really liked this opening, except for one big annoyance. Natty means trimly neat. Clearly the couch is not natty with crusted runners of spoiled milk on its arm. That bothered me. I thought maybe it was a typo and the author meant ratty couch instead.
But that aside, I really liked this opening and would most definitely keep reading on. I found the negative comments surprisingly harsh. I thought the writing was quite good. In this instance, the comments seem more about personal taste and less about good or bad writing.
I think it's a bit overwritten--some of the descriptive phrasing doesn't fit with this guy's world-weary voice. Like this: adorning the arm of his natty couch...(what guy says adorning?)assaulted his nostrils...One sprawled foot kicked a precarious pile of bowls and plates on the floor. They toppled, adding a rancid note to the stench as days-old remnants of food from cans were exposed to the air.
The tone is too elevated. Simplify it. One foot knocked over a pile of rancid dishes.
Loved this part, though: He never thought he would own a plaid couch, or a fifteen-inch television with shitty reception. Or a secondhand bed. Or a secondhand life.
If you could maintain that voice throughout, this would be a winner. Though one hopes that the character will become more appealing as the story progresses.
Two things:
I don't think you can smell yourself; you can't smell anything that isn't newly added to your environment. Our brains register a scent once and then ignore until further notice. You can smell your feet right after you take off your shoes, but you won't go on smelling them for the rest of the night. (Go wash, anyway.)
Also, this guy seems way too lethargic for someone about to shoot himself -- in fact, I only got that idea from another minion. I thought he had just shot someone else. People about to commit suicide have a certain sense of purpose this guy lacks.
Ratty! That's the word I was looking for. Thank you, Ello. :-)
Thanks to all the minions, actually, for the comments. They're much appreciated. I'd like to think the chapter as a whole clears up some of the questions that have been raised -- so perhaps someday I'll find out come publication time (yes, I am a masochistic optimist, so glad you asked...).
LMAO at the continuation! In a strange way it's somewhat close to what the story is about. Very clever!
Did anyone else think that he had just shot himself and jumped into his shooter's body? "secondhand life"
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