How To Detect Insanity

Chapter 1 Capture and procedure

                           

A blinding white light was shined in my face and the sound of distressed screaming was heard in the distance. I’ve avoided this moment my entire life. The messed-up government puts a tracking device in everyone’s neck when they’re born for some reason. I was somehow able to avoid it for thirteen years.

I screamed loudly, seeing a bloody chunk of skin fall to the floor. Something cold was shoved into my neck. I hissed at the feeling of what could only be them stitching my neck back up. Eventually the pain stopped, and the only sound was a ticking clock like a ticking time bomb. I was harshly thrown into a chair but refused to whimper.

“You thought you could get away from us, didn’t you?” His voice was grave, gnarly, and full of anger. I didn’t respond, my eyes stayed fixated on the wall. It was a harsh yellow, meant to make the experience even more painful. The heavy, angry panting of the guard’s dog didn’t help. I felt the rough surface of my neck, knowing it would quickly scar. The only thing everyone shared was the scars on their neck.

I let out a heavy breath, slowly turning to him. “No.” I said, making sure my tone was unreadable, but my angry eyes gave me away. He smirked, gripping my shoulders tightly, and I flinched. “You’re a smart kid. Normally we let everyone go after the procedure, but you are something we can’t dismiss. You avoided this fate for thirteen years, so you must have told someone your method. We’re keeping you here for testing. You ‘ll be given enough food and water to keep you alive. No less, and certainly no more.”

My mouth tasted bitter and it went dry. I had to stay here for god knows how long. In this flurry of anger and confusion, I made the mistake of trying to run. I tried to crawl through the guards legs but they caught me. The man snickered, but seemed annoyed that I wasn’t squirming against the guards’ grip like he had expected.. “Smart, but still naive” He took my chin in his hands and pushed ne backwards, causing me to fall into the security guards’ cruel grip..  He found this amusing and started cackling. His laugh made my blood boil, but I tried to remain indifferent.

Most people would say I’m too young to have to go through this, as I officially became a teenager yesterday. I, however, disagree. These dictator-like ways are cruel to all living things, however old they are. Having the right to freedom freedom and privacy should be a basic human right, but that’s not the case in our society. We’re all puppets at the hands of the government. Hollow, worn out shells of what used to be people. None of us are the same after the procedure, that’s why it’s done at a young age. Even babies will be affected, for the scar will always remain, a grim reminder of the reality of this world. The bullet that reduces them down to nothing.

 

I bet the custom would be for me to have some tragic backstory, a perfect setup for a courageous hero, but that’s not me. I grew up living in a nice home, where I was loved by my two older sisters and parents. I had three close friends, and that was more than enough. The only downfall to the otherwise perfect childhood I could have had was the constant, restless fear of the procedure. Looking back, I’m glad I had my thirteen birthdays with the people who I love and who love me back.  All of these memories just mix into a melancholic cocktail, rendering me speechless with sorrow as I realize I’ll never experience them the same way again. I’m forced to leave what felt like heaven for this merciless hell.

They dragged me away from the room and threw me into a dusty jail cell. It’s walls were a cold gray, and no source of light could be found. The corners of the wall had mold growing on them, and spiderwebs were coating most of the area. If given the option, most people would have begged for mercy rather than have to stand the murky and sickly aura the cell emanated. The cell horribly small, giving even the most unwavering people a deep claustrophobia. It could only fit a small bed fastened to the wall, it’s mattress stained and it’s metal frame rusted, and a toilet and sink. The only way to know what was happening outside was through hearing. Upon even further inspection, I could be noticed that the door was made out of iron, it’s surface turned unbearably freezing to the touch by winter’s grip. It was set on a slider, the only way to open it being through a lock with intricate coding on the outside.

I  woke up to the door opening and a servant girl came in, setting a tray down with a small portion of food and water. I sat up and studied her. She wore a spotless maid outfit, had black hair pulled into a tight bun, and she had the scar on her neck, but that was to be expected. She waited until after I finished my meal of what looked like expired clumped oats, with it was a small cup of water that left an iron aftertaste in my mouth. After I was done she picked up the tray and walked out, leaving me alone in my inescapable prison. Had there been windows, the experience might have been close to bearable, but there was only darkness accompanying the racing thoughts going through my mind. I started to wonder who else was in this prison. adults? Other teenagers? Could they be so cruel as to incarcerate children? I doubt they would have babies here, but then again, I wouldn’t put it past them. Did any of the other cells have windows? I leaned against the cold wall, taking a shaky breath. I might just go insane.

Author's Note

Mild gore

Reviews

[JayG]

Some things are getting in your way, and I thought you would want to know. Basically, you the author, are talking to the audience as if they can hear you. In other words, you're taking the role of a verbal storyteller. But that can’t work on a page because none of your performance makes it to the page. The facial expressions that you'd use are missing. Your hand gestures and your body language are missing, too. No one can hear the changes in intensity cadence and emotion that you'd place your voice. So what does the reader get? A storyteller script, without the stage directions, or rehearsal time. The trick is, when we present a story on the page, we’re not TELLING the reader the story, in the sense that we do when we’re with someone and can be heard and seen, we're working to make the reader feel as if they are living those events in real-time, as-the-protagonist, and in that person's moment of "now." Readers want to live the story, not hear about it second hand.

Yes, you're using first person personal pronouns, But so what? It's still the author talking TO the reader. Is there any real difference between:
- - - - - -
I screamed loudly, seeing a bloody chunk of skin fall to the floor. Something cold was shoved into my neck. I hissed at the feeling of what could only be them stitching my neck back up.

and:

She screamed loudly, seeing a bloody chunk of skin fall to the floor. Something cold was shoved into her neck. She hissed at the feeling of what could only be them stitching her neck back up.
- - - - -
In both cases someone who is NOT on the scene, is talking about it in as a dispassionate external observer. And the viewpoint, from start to finish, is that of the narrator. But in fiction, we expect the viewpoint to be that of the protagonist.

But how much time did your teachers spend on how to do that? None, right? Why? Because the goal of public education it to ready us for employment. And what kind of writing do most employers want from us? Nonfiction: reports, papers, and letters—the kind of writing we practiced so dilligently in school. Professions—and Fiction Writing is one that they offer degree programs for—are acquired IN ADDITION to the set of general skills we're gibven. And you have to figure that at least some of what the students in a commercial Fiction Writing course learn is necessary, right?

And that’s the key. It’s not a matter of talent. For all we know you’re swimming in it. But talent is only potential, till it’s given the tools and training of that profession. But…because no one ever tells us that, we leave our school years exactly as ready to write fiction as to pilot a commercial airliner.

Look at the opening of this story, not as the all-knowing author, but as a reader must. When you read your own work you have context and backstory before you begin, so if you leave something out you’ll-not-notice-it.

• A blinding white light was shined in my face and the sound of distressed screaming was heard in the distance.

Where and when are we? No way to know. But the reader needs context as-they-read, not later.

Who are we? No way to tell. We could be in the doctor’s office, on stage in the theater, on the battlefield, or… On entering any scene, we need to address where and when we are, what's going on, and whose skin we wear, quickly, so the reader has context to make sense of what's said and done.

And when you say, “could be heard,” so what? I can hear many things at the moment, but I’m not paying attention to them. So…my refrigerator can be heard. So can my air-conditioning system. So what? Forget what can be heard and seen and focus on what matters to your protagonist in the moment they call now. Anything else is irrelevant.

And what in the pluperfect hells is “distressed screaming.” Who screams when they’re not upset? But forget that. If we don’t know why they’re screaming, and our avatar the potagnist doesn’t wonder, or act on it, It’s irrelevant.

* I’ve avoided this moment my entire life.

"This moment? What moment? What's happening. You know. The speaker knows. Everyone on the scene probably knows. But shouldn’t the reader, the one you wrote it for know? Unless we have context there are words in a row, but the meaning is uncertain.

See how different what the reader gets is from what you do when you read this? For you, this works, because it’s you talking about things that make perfect sense...to you.

From the reader4's viewpoint, People act for reasons you’re aware of. They talk about things that have meaning for you, and them. But the reader? Not a clue.

The thing is, when we read fiction we don’t see the tools, only the result of the author using them. We enjoy that, and expect to see that. More to the point, your reader expects to see it in your work.

And that’s the best argument I know of in favor of digging into the tricks the pros take for granted. The problem isn’t your fault. We all fall into that trap. But still, fixing it make sense. And, learning to do something you want to do can be a lot like going backstage at the theater, and filled with, “So THAT’S how they do it!”

The library’s fiction-writing section can be a really big help. Personally? I’d suggest starting with Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, which recently came out of copyright protection. It's the best I've found, to date, at imparting and clarifying the "nuts-and-bolts" issues of creating a scene that will sing to the reader. The address of an archive site where you can read or download it free is just below. Copy/paste the address into the URL window of any Internet page and hit Return to get there.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

Read a chapter or three. I think you’ll be impressed.

So, this wasn’t what you hoped to see, I know. But since we’ll not even try to fix the problem we don’t see as being one, I thought you'd want to know.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[Clara]

Thank you for taking the time to write this review. I am starting to change it into third person.

[JayG]

Changing the person will change nothing. It will still be someone telling a story to a reader. But that can't work. Have your computer read this to you and you'll hear how different what the reader gets is from what you get when you read it.

I school, they're making us ready for employment, so we learn the kind of writing that employers need: nonfiction. And if you use those skills for fiction it will read like nonfiction. It's not a matter of talent, or skill. You're writing exactly as you were taught. But you weren't taught the skills of fiction. None of us are.

Remember, they offer degrees in Commercial Fiction-Writing. And it makes sense that at least some of what they teach is necessary. Right. And that's what you need.

The good news is that you don't have to get a degree, and, a lot of what you'll be learning will be fascinating—and have you saying, "I should have seen that, myself.

Try a chapter or three of that book I linked to. And if it's a bit too dense, pick up a copy of Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict. It's almost as good, and an easier read.

For a preview, read this article. It's a condensation of one of the techniques in the book I recommended: http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php

Use that as your guide if you want to rewrite. It will get rid of many of the problems.
Hope this helps.