The Great Getaway

Lenny and his brother Stan go on a road trip that much is riding on.

“WELCOME TO WEST VIRGINIA!” read the road sign seemingly plastered against the mountainous terrain.  Despite the road becoming more curvy, I picked up the speed ever so slightly.  As the engine of my Mustang Convertible revved steadily on this beautiful, summer day, my nephews, Peter and Preston, ages 4 and 5 respectively laughed while holding on to their seats.

“I knew you had it in you Lenny,” said my older brother, Stan laughing along with them.  Stan, now being 37 and me being 27, life had taken us in different directions, and we didn’t travel exactly like we used to just ten years prior.  Still, this was a trip that could wait no longer.

This was a year of a lot of firsts for me.   After completing my paralegal classes, I had landed a good job, making $55,000 a year.  Perry Douglas, whose name struck fear in the heart of every prosecutor, was one heck of a defense attorney and not afraid to pay well. It was still setting in that I had been granted the honor of working for him.  Out of all the paralegals in the world, he chose me.  With courts being closed for two weeks due to maintenance and remodeling, this was the perfect time for an escape.

As we pulled up to the first red light of the freeway, which was now becoming a biway, all four of us sang loudly with the radio the lyrics to “Hearts of Fire.”  Right in the middle of Stan’s favorite line, my phone rang.  I immediately reached to answer her call.  It was my wife, Anna.  She usually called around noon to chat a bit before returning to her mail route.  And I knew I had to make sure I answered, even if I was away.

“Hello,” I answered, simultaneously turning down the radio.  Stan looked a little disappointed.

“Hey baby, how’s it going?” said Anna just as flirtatiously as she did when we started dating five years ago.  

“It’s going real good.  We’re up in the mountains now,” I replied.

“I wanna see the pictures,” she demanded jokingly as she had done so many times in the past when Stan and I traveled.  Part of me wondered if she just wanted to keep tabs on me.  Nonetheless, I always obliged and this time would be no exception.  

“I’m driving right now, I’ll have Stan take some pictures of these mountains and send them to you,” I promised, handing Stan my backup cell phone.  As Anna and I continued to converse, Stan snapped shot after shot of the bluish purple mountains, with their lush, green vegetation, which looked like they had been painted across the sky.

“Wow! These are so cool!  I wish I was there with you,” said Anna excitedly, which was odd because in our 4 years of marriage, she had never been one to travel or spend time with my family.  “Lenny, have you thought about what we discussed the other night?” she asked changing the subject, in that provocative voice I used to love when we started dating.

“It’s been the only thing on my mind,” I said smiling.

“Well, …” she inquired, waiting for my response.

“Let’s talk when it’s just us, alone,” I whispered into the phone.

 “Sounds good, Lenny Grinny,” she replied teasingly.  “I gotta go back to my mail route for now, but be safe and enjoy your excursion,” she said hanging up.  I smiled from ear to ear, Lenny Grinny was the pet name she gave me when we started dating.  She was always so much more romantic over the phone when I was away than she was in person.

“Stay focused, Lenny Grinny,” mocked Stan, taking the phone out of my hand as I put my eyes back on the road.  

As we continued up the road, a thoughtful silence fell over the car.  Taking in the sights that were around me, I began to feel nostalgic.  It had been years since I had been back home to West Virginia.  Four years to be exact.

“Uncle Lenny, this is so much fun,  I miss our trips,” said a smiling Preston breaking the silence.  It made me smile.  

“Well buddy, we’re gonna have to take more trips really soon,” I replied.

“Amen!” agreed Stan.

“Stan, what do you think?  Is it a wise investment?” I asked thoughtfully soliciting his advice, he was wise beyond his years and always gave good advice.

“Well, I’ll say this little bro, what’s more important, what money can buy, or the more priceless things in life?” he asked in return.  With that, I didn’t have to say any more, I knew what the answer was.

A half hour later, we were at Aunt Freda’s house.  Every time I came to West Virginia, she was the first person I stopped to see.  She lived on her chicken farm with Uncle Zander and their daughter, Gertrude.  The other eight children had gone to live in the city and only came home on holidays, for the annual homecoming, and if Aunt Freda decided to cook just because she wanted to see her family.

“Oh my LAWD!” shouted an excited Aunt Freda.  “You did get him here to see Aunt Freda didn’t you Stan!” she continued throwing her arms around me, crying joyful tears.  

Then, she gave me that look, and I knew she was about to cook, which meant we were stuck.  Not that I would have ever complained.  Aunt Freda could throw down in the kitchen.  She made fried pork chops, barbecued spare ribs, baked beans, corn on the cob, green beans, corn bread, and her infamous double chocolate cake for dessert.  We washed it all down with her sun tea only country folks knew how to make.  Dinner lasted through firsts, seconds, and thirds, laughter and conversation.  It was so good to be around my family again.  

“Would it be too much trouble to stay the night Aunt Freda?” asked Stan who lived an hour away, in Pennsylvania just outside the state line.

“Too much? Don’t make me beat you,” smiled Aunt Freda.

As the 11:00 hour fell, and everyone went to bed, I stole away to the back porch.  Looking at the moon rising over the pond across from Aunt Freda’s farm, and feeling the love in the air that surrounded me, I took my cell phone out and called Anna.  I had made my decision.

“Hey Grinny,” said Anna softly answering the phone, likely anticipating my call.

“Hey,” I replied.

“What did you decide hun?” she asked with hopeful anticipation.

“Check your email Anna, I signed it,” I said happily.  

“You signed the deed! So you’re moving back in?  And we’re gonna get that $89,000 from the refinance?” asked Anna excitedly.  

“Nope.  I signed divorce papers.  The lawyer will be looking for your signature any day now.  Anna, I’m never coming back.  This excursion was a permanent one.  I’m staying here with Stan.  Even got me a job,” I said, gaining confidence.

“WHAT!” Anna hollered communicating both shock and denial that I had successfully carried out my plan to leave.  “Lenny, I told you I was sorry.  I’ll get help I promise,” she pleaded.

“You’re always sorry until the next time, and there’s always a next time Anna!  First, it was verbal.  Then you punched me in my face.  One night when we argued, you snatched all the car keys, then chased me around the house with a butcher knife.  This time, you held a pistol to my head and told me that if I left you, I was dead after I caught you cheating when I came home early.  Well, I’m gone, I’m not coming back, and this marriage is over!” I shouted triumphantly.

“And if you think of coming here, you’re a fool Anna,” said Stan.  “I got a restraining order and a shotgun,” he informed her moodily with his arms crossed across his chest.  And with that, I went back inside Aunt Freda’s house, laid down and closed my eyes, finally able to sleep without fear.”

Author's Note

How does the rising action flow?
What are the strengths?
What can be improved?

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

This is a well written piece which I suspect is part of a longer work. I thought the story flowed well, though I felt as though I came in during the middle of the narration. The dialogue seemed very natural and I felt myself growing more interested as the story unfolded. In the next to last paragraph, the sentence which begins with "This time, you held a pistol to my head" seemed to end somewhat awkwardly. You might want to reword it. Otherwise, I think you have an interesting tale going here. Very glad I'm not married to Anna.

[Sauti_Ukweli]

Thank you so much John! I really appreciate the positive feedback. And I will definitely incorporate your suggestion.

[Farah]

Hi there! Thank you for accepting my request. I have read your writing and I have read the comments on it. We are all entitled to our own opinions, but may I share an alternate opinion on your work?

Commendations:

1.) First, I love the vivid imagery. I feel like I'm there in the mustang and riding with them as they make their escape.

2.) Second, I love how you have created the rising action so skillfully. When I read it, I kept wondering, what is the narrator saying? For example, " in that provocative voice I USED TO love when we started dating." My thoughts went to, why does he say he "USED TO" love ? Throughout the whole story, right up to the end, I thought, this has to be going somewhere interesting.

3.) Big kudos on the surprise ending! Looking back at the conversations and the subtle hints, I said a big "OH!" at the end.

Recommendation:

My only recommendation on your story is to try to add a few more areas that actively build the reader's suspense. What I mean is instead of "A half hour later, we arrived" try describing the steps of the trip with details that led to that point.

I am giving this 100! Magnifique I say!

[Sauti_Ukweli]

Thank you Farah for your confidence and feedback. I appreciate how you pointed out what you felt were strengths. While it feels good to hear it was enjoyed, I noticed in your other comment you said pretty good for a beginning writer. I’d like to know what days beginner so I can improve. Please don’t hold back I enjoy brutal honesty.

[JayG]

What you’re doing is telling the reader a story…literally. Using the writing techniques we’re given in school, you’re organizing it into a chronicle of events, of the form, “This happened, then that happened…this person said/did that…here’s some backstory on why...and then...” You’re presenting it as a transcription of yourself talking to a friend who said, “So what happened to you last weekend?”

In other words, like pretty much everyone who comes to writing fiction, you’re doing exactly what you were trained to do: Reporting and explaining. What we call "telling."

I wish my news was better, because having been there more than a time or two, I know how news like this can hurt. But you did ask, and since this problem is both common and invisible to the author, I thought you should know.

Why invisible? Because as you read your own words, you “hear” yourself as the narrator, your voice filled with emotion. The reader hears what punctuation suggests (have the computer read it to you. It’s a good way to hear things that won’t show up when you read).

Because you begin reading knowing the protagonist inside and out, their motivation to do and say things is clear, and makes sense. But because you provide the actions without the motivation that inspired it, the reader receives a dispassionate chronicle of events. They learn what happened, then, necessary detail. But the character's internal landscape is unclear, or explained after the information was needed as context.

Look at the opening lines, not as the all-knowing storyteller, but from the chair of the reader:

• WELCOME TO WEST VIRGINIA!” read the road sign seemingly plastered against the mountainous terrain.

The first 8 words set the scene. We’re on a road and just entered WV. But the rest of the line? Visual details for which the reader has no context. “Seemingly,” says it’s not actually plastered there. So… do you mean a large sigh resting against a hillside? A sign that had been knocked against a hillside? No way to know. You know, because you have the mental image that brought the words. The reader has no references to make it meaningful.

• Despite the road becoming more curvy, I picked up the speed ever so slightly.

So…he or she pedaled a bit faster? They urged the team into a faster walk? Since we don’t know how fast he or she is moving, what’s transporting them, or how “curvy” the road is, it works…for you. But what can “more curvy,” and “ever so slightly” mean to someone who has no clue of the year, who’s driving, or why they’re there? We don’t even know what prompted this unknown person to act? You’re in that car with the wind in your hair as you read those words. The reader can’t be—but should be.

Were this a graphic novel, with a picture to go with the words it would work. But since it isn't...

For you, each line points to images, actions, and motivation, all waiting to be evoked by those words. But for the reader, someone of unknown gender, age, situation, and motivation, who lives in an unknown year, made a tiny change—amount unknown—for unknown reason.

See how greatly your own pre-knowledge causes you to leave out detail the reader requires?

It’s not a matter of talent, or how well you write. Your wordsmith skills are up to the task. It’s that like almost all of us, your training for writing fiction is the endless string of nonfiction reports and essays we were assigned in our school days.

Exactly as we’re trained to do, you, someone neither in the story nor on the scene are talking ABOUT it, as a dispassionate outside observer. Why dispassionate? Because only you know the emotion to place into the narrator’s voice. And the narrator is the only one on stage.

Why doesn’t your use of first person pronouns make you part of the story? Because the VIEWPOINT is that of someone talking about the events, not living them in real-time. Yes, you’re presenting the sequence of events, but that’s a report, no matter the pronouns you use. Nonfiction is designed to inform. It’s fact-based, as this is, and author-centric. In other words, “telling.”

What’s motivating the character to act? Who knows? But we should. Readers aren’t seeking the details, they want to be made to live the events, in real-time, AS the protagonist, not as reported by someone whose voice we can’t hear. As E. L. Doctorow so wisely 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.”

So..don’t talk to the reader about what can be seen and heard, live the events, and take the reader with you. We don’t tell the reader it’s hot, we have them mop their brow, or blink away the sting of sweat. You begin with what can be seen, and THEN make us know where we are. But why does a reader care what make and model the car is? No one in that car is saying, "I'm an a..." And your reader can’t see it, or know why the kind of car matters to-the-protagonist in-that-scene. But suppose you’d opened with a sequence like:
- - - - -
A glance toward the passenger seat brought a smile, and, “You look like a wild-man, Stan. You need a haircut. ”

“I am a wild man,” Stan said, grinning. “I’m riding in my kid brother’s top-down convertible, on a beautiful day, and, by that sign we just passed back into good old West Virginia.”

Grinning, he reached out to punch my upper arm. “I knew you had it in you Lenny.”
- - - - - - -
Your story? No, it’s a quick parallel. But look at the difference in approach.

We begin with something that tells the reader we’re in a car, in the driver’s seat, and that the protagonist/narrator has done something natural: glanced at the passenger.

As a result of what’s seen, the protagonist is motivated to speak. And in doing so, we learn the passenger’s name, and that his hair is noticeably in disarray.

The passenger is motivated to reply. And in so doing, we learn that the weather is nice, that we’re in a convertible, that they’re brothers, with the passenger being the older, and, we learn where we are and that the passenger is glad to be there.

The passenger then reacts to their own statement with an action that develops character and shows their relationship a bit, and, says something that will cause the protagonist to respond.

So… In a total of 70 words, the reader has context for who we are, where we are, and what’s going on. And not once has a narrator appeared to lecture the reader and kill any sense of reality.

See the difference? You were explaining the events. Done this way, the characters—and the reader—are living them moment-by-moment.

But of most importance, what I did to achieve that was to apply skills that you can learn as easily as those you now use—though, in truth, it is a b***h to perfect those skills.

We, universally, forget that professions are acquired in addition to the general skills of school, because the pros make it look so easy, and natural. And because we forget that, we never either seek them, or, realize we need them. I know, because I’ve been there, and wrote six unsold novels before I had it pointed out.

But on the other hand, after taking steps to correct the problem, a year later, I made my first novel sale. I wish you the same.

The library’s fiction-writing section is a great resource. 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

Try a chapter or three. I think you’ll find yourself saying, “But that’s so obvious. How could I have not noticed it, myself?”

For what it might be worth, the articles in my WordPress writing blog are based on what you’ll find in such a book.

So… I know something like this can hurt, and it’s like trying to take a small sip from a fire-hose. But it’s a problem that every successful writer faced, so it’s more a rite-of-passage than a disaster. So whatever you do, hang in there, and keep on writing. And…you did ask. 🤣

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

[Sauti_Ukweli]

Thank you for your review of my story. I appreciate your in depth review of it and your feedback. Trust me, it doesn't "hurt" to hear truth, it empowers me to rise and meet challenges head on. I am a Ph.D. and write with a "dissertation mindset" at times, which clearly presents its own set of challenges. Correction will only make me better not bitter. Thats why I appreciate you. Thanks for the pointers, and I am preparing to revise as we speak . 😊

[Farah]

Hope it's okay that I chime in. I must respectfully disagree in part and agree in part. I say the order and story telling is magnifique, as an English professor myself. However, I do agree that the dialogue Jay mentions would give your story a smoother flow. Also, as you advance, you'll naturally move away from the straight chronology, but not bad for a beginning writer! BRAVO! BRAVO! BRAVO!

[Sauti_Ukweli]

I thank you both for your feedback and have taken both into account as I make corrections!