Childhood and Beyond

So you're the type that likes to read the back of the book? Good for you; all you get is a trigger warning (ED, alcohol and drug abuse, self-harm, disassociation), and notice that it's a short story.

One day, you’ll look down at your hands, and realize that all the days you spent worrying about what others thought were days wasted. All the days you spent going over that minute interaction, wondering if they liked you back, stressing about whether you said the right thing; trivial. Your hands look old now; you’re only 15, but they’ve gotten bigger, shakier, more scarred. Where did the old hands go? Where did you go? Where are you now? 

You’re on the couch of your dad’s girlfriend’s office; drunk, a little sad, but mostly numb. You have more memories of being intoxicated than those of your old hands: soft, unshaken, untouched. You get up and walk to the mirror, a stranger stands there naked: taller, paler, skinnier. You reach to touch the strangers face; you feel the soft, wet cheeks and the gentle, shaky touch of your hands. You try and gaze compassionately in the dull (once blue) eyes of the stranger, but they only glance back with a pained gaze; they’re grey like storm clouds, the sadness in them builds like an oncoming hurricane. 

You attempt a breathy laugh for the consolation of the unfamiliar person in front of you, but all that you can muster is a wet wheeze; it tastes of the burning sticks your mother and uncle used to inhale. You move your trembling hands to the strangers lips, feeling the cracked skin: painful, raw, bleeding. Your hands drop in defeat, only emerging again to feel the stranger’s ribs; they felt fragile, yet sharp and hard, they stuck out in a visible cage-like formation. The stomach of the stranger was sunken like a canyon between the two bony peaks; only showing fuller when it rose and fell in sync with your breath. You then move to your thighs; red and white shapes fill the space of the upper portion. 

“What happened to you?”, as you speak, the stranger mimics simultaneously, causing you to freeze like a statue. You stare into your dull grey eyes, drop your head to your hollowed out stomach, and sink to the floor. Memories flashing, from childhood and beyond, all that formed the reflection of yourself you still deem unfamiliar. “Oh, right.”, you grab the bottle, pour a drink, close your eyes, and then repeat.

Author's Note

Comment whatever, I could use some constructive criticism if necessary.

Reviews

[JayG]

• One day, you’ll look down at your hands, and realize that all the days you spent worrying about what others thought were days wasted.

Look at this, not as the author, who has context and intent guiding their understanding, but as someone who has arrived without either, and must make sense of a given line as-they-read-it.

So, that reader doesn’t know the subject under discussion. The title doesn’t help. And since people don’t often write fiction in future tense, or, second person, this line seems to be about the reader. But the statement isn't true for most, so here, without meaning to, is where you kill a reader's interest—before they learn you're talking about the protagonist. Not the best way to start a story. 🤣

In short: you’re not taking into account the fact that in fiction, we must address three issues, quickly, on entering any scene, so as to have context for what’s going on. And in all our years of school that weren't mentioned.

The reason why they’re not is the primary problem you face—something I call The Great Misunderstanding.

Here’s the deal: In our school days we spent over a decade perfecting a skill our teachers called writing, never knowing that the full name of it is: nonfiction-writing.

Dutifully, we completed our assignments for report after report, essay after essay, perfecting our ability to inform the reader clearly and concisely. As the narrator, we inform and explain, working to provide an informational experience.

Unfortunately, in fiction, the reader is seeking an emotional experience. As E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” And an unavoidable result of that is that if we try to write fiction with nonfiction skills the result will read like a report.

You’re trying to get around that by using second person, and by ladling in lots of literary style description, but that can’t work for several reasons.

First those personal pronouns are only used by the author, when talking about the protagonist, as an external observer. Is there really a difference between:
- - - - -
You’re on the couch of your dad’s girlfriend’s office; drunk, a little sad, but mostly numb.
And
He’s on the couch of his dad’s girlfriend’s office; drunk, a little sad, but mostly numb.
Or
I’m on the couch of my dad’s girlfriend’s office; drunk, a little sad, but mostly numb.
- - - - -
Not a trace. Nor would changing tense change anything. In all cases someone not in the story, or, on the scene, is talking about it, not living it.

My point? POV is irrelevant. Viewpoint is what matters, and what provides the "joy of reading." In fiction, the scene would be presented as the protagonist's experience, in real-time. We would learn that he or she (we never learn the protagonist’s gender) is drunk by their action and thoughts; by someone calling them drunk; by them wishing they had a drink; by them stumbling and behaving so; by the taste in their mouth. We could learn it in many ways. But how real is it when all action stops and the actors politely wait, while a voice we cannot hear and so, is dispassionate, explains things?

The short version: The thing we all forget is that professions are acquired IN ADDITION to the general skills we’re given in school, and cannot be practiced without them. It might be nice if reading fiction gave us those skills, but does eating make us a chef?

And that matters a great deal, because all the fiction you’ve chosen was written with those skills, and so, the result of using them is what you, and your reader, expect to see.

It’s simple enough to fix the problem, though. Just add the missing skills and practice them till they feel as intuitive to use as the skills you now own. And given that the practice is writing stories that are getting batter and better, what’s not to like?

True, there’s a lot of work and study involved, but that’s true of any profession. It might be nice if it was a list of, “Do this instead of that.” But if it was easy it wouldn’t be a profession, and they do offer four year majors in Commercial Fiction-Writing, so you have to figure that at least some of what people pay to learn is necessary.

The good news is that the local library’s fiction-writing section can provide that information, free, so it can be a HUGE resource. And since you progress at your own pace, there are no tests or pressure, and, you work when you have the time, it’s the ideal place to begin.

In fact, making it even easier, the best book I’ve found to date on the tricks of giving your words wings is free to download at some archive sites. The address of one is below the paragraph. Copy/paste it to the URL window of any internet page, and hit Return to read or download it.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

For what it may be worth, most of the articles in my WordPress writing blog are based on the teaching you’ll find in that book.

So…I’m certain this wasn’t what you hoped to hear when you posted the story. Who would? But still, since it is what every writer needs to know...

So dig in. It won’t make a pro of you. That’s your task. It will, though, give you the tools and the knowledge of what they can do for you. And like the proverbial chicken soup for a cold, it might not help, but it sure can’t hurt.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

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