My Writers Circle

Workshop => Review My Work => Topic started by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 09:19:36 AM

Title: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 09:19:36 AM
This is a two-part story, this is the first part, I'm busy on the second as of now. I'd like your opinion of this so far. I've used all the good advice given by everyone here of show, not tell, and I think its good(but then, I am biased)

I swear (part 1)


I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  She taught me not to swear, because it "wasn't nice". The only lesson I learned that day was how to "swear, and not get caught!"

South Shields in 1967, I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who had already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob.  I'm repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst the other kids were looking on with their mouths open in a big 'oh', waiting expectantly to see what happened next.
  
I should have got a clue when the 'ohs' turned into 'ahs' and their eyes lit up in gleeful anticipation. I felt a vice-like grip on my collar and I was yanked off my feet, and went sailing back through the gate at an alarming rate!  Mam had sent me out, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd NEVER EVER sworn at anyone! She knew, in that intuitive way that all mothers do, that I was lying through my back teeth, so she'd set me up by standing hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd "be good and I'd live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on!"   But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs.  We then got to the top and into the scullery, which to me had turned into my own personal torture chamber.  

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as "nice, sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing"  Then Carbolic was the total opposite.  It was blocky, rough, smelled of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

Have you ever been in a proper Butcher's and he slaps a side of beef on the chopping block with a thump with one hand, whilst raising a meat-cleaver up in the air with the other ready to swish down, sinking the blade into the waiting flesh?  Well now you get the picture of what mam did to me on that day.

I'm now on the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the greasy plates in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, [sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those days]. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go.  But once mam made up her mind to do something, she did it! "Oh Gawd did she do it!"
The ironic thing is, whilst all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!". . . .Back to the torture.

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring match now, my mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God, it's cold!
  
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like, whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", and she's smiling.  I'm shittin myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a monday, she's singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather(no pun intended) really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it!  She was so thorough and resolute!

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, [guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it!]  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on the draining board in a flash!  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised up ready to "wash" me again!  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort on her lovely face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head down and swore on the bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble, at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just happened.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, cos I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me!  
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Clarius on December 29, 2012, 11:17:00 AM
I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  She taught me not to swear, because it "wasn't nice". The only lesson I learned that day was how to "swear, and not get caught!" NICE START

South Shields in 1967, I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who had already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob.  I'm repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst the other kids were looking on with their mouths open in a big 'oh', waiting expectantly to see what happened next.
 
I should have got a clue when the 'ohs' turned into 'ahs' and their eyes lit up in gleeful anticipation. I felt a vice-like grip on my collar and I was yanked off my feet, and went sailing back through the gate at an alarming rate!  Mam had sent me out, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd NEVER EVER sworn at anyone! She knew, in that intuitive way that all mothers do, that I was lying through my back teeth, so she'd set me up by standing hidden on the other side of the gate!
 
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd "be good and I'd live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on!"    But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs.  We then got to the top and into the scullery, which to me had turned into my own personal torture chamber. 

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as "nice, sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing"  Then Carbolic was the total opposite.  It was blocky, rough, smelled of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, NICE and I was about to have a meal of it! MIXED METAPHOR! DON'T EAT SKINHEADS, HOW ABOUT 'about to go a couple of rounds with it'

Have you ever been in a proper Butcher's and he slaps a side of beef on the chopping block with a thump with one hand, whilst raising a meat-cleaver up in the air with the other ready to swish down, sinking the blade into the waiting flesh?  Well now you get the picture of what mam did to me on that day.

I'm now on the draining board, struggling and wriggling. Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the greasy plates in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, [sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those days]. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go.  But once mam made up her mind to do something, she did it! "Oh Gawd did she do it!" IS THIS DIALOGUE?
The ironic thing is, whilst all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!". . . .Back to the torture. UNLIKELY

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring ? match now, my mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God, it's cold!
 
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like, whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", and she's smiling.  I'm shittin myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!

I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a monday, she's all the while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather(no pun intended) really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it!  She was so thorough and resolute!

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, [guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it!]  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on the draining board in a flash!  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised up ready to "wash" me again!  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort on her lovely face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head down and swore on the bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble, at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just happened.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, cos I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me! 

ENJOYED READING THIS.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: wanderer on December 29, 2012, 11:25:59 AM
I found it an interesting read and the story flowed nice. It kept my interest and is a story the reader can identify with.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 11:51:19 AM
Thanks for the crit yous two, I was a bit curious about your comment Clarius? Back to the torture. UNLIKELY
I hope you get that the little boy is me! This is a true story about my childhood, this happened! If I did this today to anyone it WOULD be regarded as torture! As far as I was concerned at the time this was torture! I'm laughing as I say this because its funny thinking of it now, but back then it wasn't. ;D

Its my first draft, so even without your thoughts I have a feeling what needs to come out, but I thank you still.  

For any newbies reading this, I learned how to write properly here at MWC,
(they do say good advertising pays!) ha ha. Thanks Bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: midnight candle on December 29, 2012, 12:05:40 PM
Quote
I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  She taught me not to swear, because it "wasn't nice". The only lesson I learned that day was how to "swear, and not get caught!"

i'm just wondering if you could cut and pare this down to the essentials for a more engaging opening.

My mother taught me not to swear because it "wasn't nice". I learned to "swear and not get caught".

it says the same thing in less words and gets right to the heart of the conflict between mum and son.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on December 29, 2012, 12:07:07 PM
I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  She taught me not to swear, because it "wasn't nice". The only lesson I learned that day was how to "swear, and not get caught!"

Two things bother me with this opening paragraph -
1) Why have you put certain phrases inside quotation marks? It looks a bit odd. (I won't mention the unnecessary exclamation mark for now)
2) By summarizing the entire plot within the first three sentences there's not much point reading any further unless we are desperate to find out how this came about.
I think you're more likely to hook the reader and keep them keen to read on if you don't give the game away quite so cheaply. It also looks as if you're contradicting yourself on first reading.

The conversational style works well for this type of story and I can picture you being caught in the act.
I'm not so keen on the clichés that make up most of paragraph 3:

'gleeful anticipation' - 'vice-like grip' - 'at an alarming rate' - 'through my back teeth'

Nor can I work out why you persist with exclamation marks. They serve no purpose when you stick them everywhere. It's also frowned upon to CAPITALISE phrases in standard prose (unless it's a comic). If the words themselves can't make an impact, fancy fonts or punctuation won't make any difference.

As for being dragged upstairs - it's hard to picture how you can see the roof interior above you and the back door below you at the same time.

I happen to like the image of Carbolic as 'the skinhead of soaps' - and if you're about to have a bar stuffed inside your mouth then 'a meal of it' works for me.

But I'd be tempted to remove the mention of the butcher's cleaver cutting into meat. It's easier to picture your mam laying you down like a side of beef without the complicated distraction of what might or might not be in her other hand just yet.
And if she's grabbed you by the throat how can you see her nail polish? Are you facing up or down? - because you reckon you can also see the plates in the sink. It's yet another needless distraction that diminishes the impact of what's about to happen.
I'm guessing you're on your back since you're looking up into the mouth of the tap - great build-up of suspense but spoilt by my having to figure out how you can see through the back of your head,

And if you're looking for how to demolish a carefully crafted scene in 3 words or less, look no further than this underlined bit:
Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather (no pun intended) really feeling sorry for myself.
It undermines all the good work you've done because suddenly the author has butted in with a pointless comment. Bad choice.

This piece is so much better than your very first attempts on here but you still need to take greater control of how you're presenting your tale.
No silly asides - no sticking phrases inside quotation marks (single or double) unless it's spoken dialogue - no phrases in brackets either unless it's absolutely necessary because again they look like authorial intrusion - and, please make 'no exclamation marks' your New Year's resolution.

I'm curious as to why it's labelled Part 1 because it reads like a complete story already.

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 29, 2012, 12:40:13 PM
Hi Brian -- exclamation marks! :o Lose them -- please. ::)

As this is in first person you can lose many of the I with a few tweaks. EG

I'm Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst the other kids were looking looked on with their mouths open in a big 'oh', waiting expectantly to see what happened next.

I was now Between spluttering and spitting as I still begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something, she did it!

I should have got a clue when the 'ohs' turned into 'ahs' and their eyes lit up in gleeful anticipation. I felt A vice-like grip on clamped my collar and, I was yanked off my feet, and I  went sailing back through the gate at an alarming rate!  Mam had sent me out, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd NEVER EVER sworn at anyone! She knew, in that intuitive way that all mothers do, that I was lying through my back teeth, so she'd set me up by standing hidden on the other side of the gate!
 
I was now being Dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, I blubbereding and pleadeding with her that I'd "be good and I'd live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on!"   She didn't stop. But Soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs.  We then got to the top and into the scullery, which to me had turned into my own personal the torture chamber. 


There are other opportunities for tightening and having a variety of sentence starters too. ;)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 01:49:08 PM
(picture a wrestling match, with me against a tag-team of phil and shvon)(hand hovered over the Exclamation mark there, and shot back)ha ha. As usual, I look forward to your crits the most cos you tell it like it is.  I knew I was sayin stuff that was wrong phil, in my eyes as well as yours, re the butcher, I looked at this after posting and realised you and others would pick up on it cos it takes you out of the immediate action. So the butcher will be pared to shvons way of making myself the slab of meat as it were. The stairs?  well they were almost vertical in those days, try leaning yourself at about 45 degrees and tell me what you see? I saw the cobwebs and I saw the receding back door down below, I can't understand why its not seen by you. 

Also put yourself upside down over something and tell me what you can see? It is quite possible to see stuff from a different angle.  I suppose youre right about the finger-nails, I just remembered her grabbing me by the throat, and as her hand came closer, I saw the red polish.   I'm guilty as charged where the exclams are concerned, its an awful habit I'm trying so hard to break. The () are my own way of speaking within the piece, that are, I suppose not needed, but I seem to like,(mebbee I should deal with them elsewhere)(done it again, sorry)

  The whole thing can be looked on as a stand alone piece, but the way I've done it has a bearing on part two, which you'll see in a couple of days, after I've pared and snipped this one.  I've been thinking of this story and the next one a lot over the last few weeks, I wanted to use this as an exercise to yous that I'm now showing rather than telling, as usual I can't get it all right at once, hence the crits. I'm not sitting here feeling sorry for myself, I am disappointed that I didn't get it as spot on as I first thought. But theres still enough to make it good IMO.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Clarius on December 29, 2012, 04:52:15 PM
Though it unlikely that his mother would teach him not to swear by swearing at him. Since this is autobiographical then I suppose that this is how it happened. If so I suppose that there is a rich vein of comedy to be mined here.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 06:15:06 PM
hiya clarius, youve hit the nail on the head here, comedy. I just have to learn where funny comments and happenings can be written but without detracting from the main story, If I'd prefaced the piece with "a funny thing happened to me a few yrs ago", then i suppose the comedy aspect would work, but as I've seen on the site so many times, over the last month and a bit, I've come to realise that i cover up a lot of strong stuff, by weakening it with comedic elements.  Phil and Shvon and Gyp and the rest have contaminated me with logic, and good writing.  Its a disease I look forward to keeping! ha ha. Thanks for your input in this. respec' bri.

Came back to answer another of Clarius' queries, the swearing. When you lived in the N/E of England with largely ignorant un-educated people(I was one of em) You find that life was one big contradiction, parents would tell you off in front of officials for stealing or fighting, but when said officials were gone, you'd either get a pat on the back or a damn good hiding for not including them in any lucrative caper, it was that simple.  With regards to the swearing, there was a constant mantra, "when youre eighteen you can do as you like but till then you do as I f***ing tell you!"  Parents and older people were a constant contradiction. A case of 'Do as I say, not as I do'. bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 29, 2012, 07:47:41 PM
Brian -- so much of do as I say, not as I do . . . "For Chrissake, don't you ever let me hear you taking the Lord's fucking name in vain and don't let me catch you swearing you wee buggers, d'you hear me, now, you wee fuckers?"
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 29, 2012, 08:32:30 PM
I like your story, and I laughed so much. I can picture it . . .  so real.

I would love to give you my input as I go along, on your text,  but I don't know how it works with the striking off, etc. I know about the color change.

Could someone tell me how it is being done? It would be a lot easier than writing a new text (for me and for you). I would be more inclined to do it for others also.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 29, 2012, 08:46:05 PM
I believe your story and the attitude on raising kids. "do as I say, not as I do".

Just like smoking. Ours parents would forbid us to smoke while they had a cigarette in their mouth. The same with our doctors. 

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 09:30:43 PM
Shvon! I'm shocked at the language of a pretty young girlie!  ;D ;)

Protek, I dont know what you mean when you refer to "striking off". Just send in a crit for yourself, if you do something wrong here, theres always someone who'll put you right. Thanks, bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 29, 2012, 09:35:25 PM
Shvon! I'm shocked at the language of a pretty young girlie!  ;D ;)

Protek, I dont know what you mean when you refer to "striking off". Just send in a crit for yourself, if you do something wrong here, theres always someone who'll put you right. Thanks, bri.

Oh, oh!!! That's funny. Okay, don't stick your head out unless you're at the top. I like you, Bri

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 29, 2012, 09:37:42 PM
It's unhealthy to stay up all night. Here, it's only 8:37pm

I understand, I'm the same when I work on a project. I hardly sleep.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 29, 2012, 09:41:00 PM
where exactly is "here"? I'm in England and its 02.40, bed for 3am, back up for 09.00, and we get to do it all over again! ha ha.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 09:34:18 AM
hey protek, if you want to answer a specific part of someones answer, click top right on the "quote" then when you get the part you like go to the end and enter your dialogue after the endquote, then when you post, it'll have the blue of the quote followed by your answer! Hope that helps you. respec' bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Alice, a Country Gal on December 30, 2012, 09:54:48 AM
I like your story, and I laughed so much. I can picture it . . .  so real.

I would love to give you my input as I go along, on your text,  but I don't know how it works with the striking off, etc. I know about the color change.

Could someone tell me how it is being done? It would be a lot easier than writing a new text (for me and for you). I would be more inclined to do it for others also.


Protekme and Brian . . . when you are typing in the text box, look above the box, just under the bold Message icon: you'll see sever small buttons with different things in them you can use. B=Bold , I=italic , U=underline,  S=strike through.

There are more button available to use if you wish. let your cursor hover over them and you'll learn what you can do with them.

Now back to your usual thread. Sorry for the interruption.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 10:14:53 AM
 :o  I knew that Ali! (warms hands ready for the whuppin some chick is gonna get!) ha ha. (I jus forgot) x
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, 1343 words, #20 mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 10:29:49 AM
I swear (part 1)


I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  How to swear, and not get caught.

South Shields, 1967.  I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob.  Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.
  
I should have got a clue when their eyes lit up, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand had grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never ever sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers do, that I was lying, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd, be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on.  But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs, and into the scruffy shed-like scullery, my own personal torture chamber.  

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  It was blocky, rough, smelled of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell mam had lost it because she took most of the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor, oh gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her hoping that if I looked miserable enough she'd relent and take pity on me, but she didn't and yanked me up by the hair and collar-when she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!

Mam slapped me onto the damp-smelling drainer, like a Butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness seeping into my clothes as my head kept drooping into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates, this was more comfortable to me, but now I was directly under the brass tap

I'm now on the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the greasy plates in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs, she's fighting to keep me positioned and I'm fighting her to keep my head away from the tap.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, [sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those days]. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go.  But once mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
The ironic thing is, whilst all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring match now, if it could be called that, because I have to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God it's so cold!
  
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like, whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling.  I'm shitting myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a monday, she's singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather, really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it killed her.

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, [guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it]  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on the draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised up ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort on her lovely face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head down and swore on the bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just happened.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.  
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, #20, inc intro, 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 30, 2012, 11:39:20 AM
Argggh just been reviewing your first piece.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, #20, inc intro, 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 30, 2012, 12:06:41 PM
Really enjoyed this, Brian. Just some suggestions from me. All just my opinion. ;) Oh and I blame Wolfe for making suggesting I read Write Tight. ;)

I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother. How to swear, and not get caught.  (nice good intro)

South Shields, 1967. (perfect) I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off (personally don’t like this, I would maybe say swearing and cussing to the bloke next door)  to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob. Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst (I think this should be while, Sio, once told me to always use this)  the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.

I should have got a clue when their eyes lit up (do you need up?),  with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand had grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never ever (I would get rid of ever) sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers do, that I was lying, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!

I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd, be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down (get rid of down you have below) below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs, and into the scruffy shed-like scullery, my own (maybe get rid of own) personal torture chamber.

She'd warned me time and time again (bit wordy and clichéd)  that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet (could you find a better word?),  soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite. It was blocky (I think could be reworked to get read It was as redundant) , rough, smelled of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it! (Like this)
I could tell mam had lost it because she took most of (get rid of most of) the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor, oh gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her hoping that if I looked miserable enough she'd relent and take pity on me, but she didn't and yanked me up by the hair and collar-when she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  (that’s a long sentence)
Mam slapped me onto the damp-smelling drainer, like a Butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness seeping into my clothes as my head kept drooping into the big china sink. Mam didn't like the position I was in, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates, this was more comfortable to me (this is quite vague),  but now I was directly under the brass tap

I'm now on the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand (-) holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the greasy plates in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs, she's fighting to keep me positioned and I'm fighting her to keep my head away from the tap. She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe. A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, [sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those days] (why have this in brackets?).  But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of (I would have from) the tap soaking my head and neck. I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go. But once mam (decided) made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd (comma) did she do it.
The ironic thing is, whilst (while) all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats. It's a staring match now, if it could be called that, because I have to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still (omit) gushing from and omit out of) out of the tap and God it's so (omit so) cold!

Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like, (I would remove this comma) whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling. I'm shitting myself now! Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammer a quick "Please mam", (inside quotation) and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob! Oh she could be so quick! She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a m (M)onday, she's singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile (comma)  I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather, really feeling sorry for myself. The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow. She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it killed her.

Finally, its over. She stands me on my feet, of course (think you need a comma here) being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint (think this is going to) to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, [guilt can be a good commodity when you’re eight and know how to wield it] (do you need brackets) As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?  (a long sentence, last part wordy)
She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on the draining board in a flash. She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised up (omit up means same as raised) ready to "wash" me again. I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort on her lovely (I would either find a better word or omit lovely)  face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down. But I eventually struggled off and stood before her. "Now", (inside quotation) she said. "Will you ever swear again?" I hung my head down (omit down) and swore on the b(B)ible that I wouldn't. She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign. She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?" I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just (omit just)happened. She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, #20, inc intro, 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 12:29:22 PM
Thanks for the wonderful crit Dawn, you keep mentioning "inside quotes" what do you mean?  did it read good for you(was so tempted to ask if it was good for you, but thought better of it! ::))(I forgot to take the brackets off and change the whilsts into whiles(anything to keep shvons face straight! ;D) xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, #20, inc intro, 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 30, 2012, 12:32:01 PM
 ;D "She used to tap her foot at me for that," Dawn said. :P (look at the example, the comma is before the speech mark) for the UK and usually US it's inside the speech marks.

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 1st edit, #20, inc intro, 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 12:37:18 PM
oh, right. Gotcha.  :)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 01:12:12 PM
I swear (part 1)

I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  How to swear, and not get caught.

South Shields, 1967.  I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob.  Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.
  
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand had grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers do, that I was lying, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd, be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on.  But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs, and into the scruffy shed-like scullery, my torture chamber.  

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell mam had lost it because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor, oh gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her hoping that if I looked miserable enough she'd relent and take pity on me, but she didn't and yanked me by the hair and collar, when she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!

Mam slapped me onto the damp-smelling drainer, like a Butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness seeping into my clothes as my head kept drooping into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates, now I was directly under the brass tap

On the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the few greasy plates left in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs, she's fighting to keep me positioned and I'm fighting her to keep my head away from the tap.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those times. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go.  But once mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
The ironic thing is, while all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring match now, if it could be called that, because I have to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God, it's cold!
  
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling.  I'm shitting myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather, really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it killed her.

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course, being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it.  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just took place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on December 30, 2012, 03:10:55 PM
Good to see how well you have tightened this up but there are still a couple of tweaks that might improve it further:

I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother. How to swear, and not get caught.
but you did get caught so this doesn't make sense. And I still don't see why you need this introductory paragraph to be honest - because the story starts here > South Shields, 1967.

There are still some clichés to sort out:
swearing my head off - a team of wild horses - even if it killed her
- none of which make sense literally.

And the scene involving your head in the sink is still impossible to picture
- an upside-down view of the plates (are you facing the sink or the tap?)
- dishes thrown onto the floor yet they're still in the sink
- pans being scattered everywhere by your kicking legs (how tiny were you aged eight? small enough to fit along the entire draining board?)
It would work better in my opinion if you took out some of the choreography that only slows down the pace of the story and becomes a distraction.

Also - for the record - Dr. Jekyll was the good guy so your reference doesn't work that well.

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 30, 2012, 03:31:31 PM
Work out why the parts have been bolded . . .  ;)

I swear (part 1)

I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  How to swear, and not get caught.

South Shields, 1967.  I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-gob.  Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, while [since the sentence now begins with an 'ing' word 'while/whilst/as' turns this into a frag -- and not a good one] the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.
  
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand had grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers do, that I was lying, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was now being [incredibly sludgy/passive/tell way of putting things]  dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd, be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on.  But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs, and into the scruffy shed-like scullery, my torture chamber.  

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell Mam [when using Mam as a name/title it needs to have a capital letter] had lost it because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor. Oh gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her hoping that if I looked miserable enough she'd relent and take pity on me, but she didn't and yanked me by the hair and collar, when she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!

Mam slapped me onto the damp-smelling drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness seeping into my clothes as my head kept drooping into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates, now I was directly under the brass tap.

On the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the few greasy plates left in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs, she's fighting to keep me positioned and I'm fighting her to keep my head away from the tap.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those times. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it. [consistency --gawd or Gawd?]
The ironic thing is, while all this was going on, Mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring match now, if it could be called that, because I have to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God, it's cold!
  
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling.  I'm shitting myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather, really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it killed her.

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course, being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it.  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic [consistency carbolic or Carbolic?]soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just took place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting Mam hear me.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 03:42:13 PM
Skinny has just mentioned dr jeckyll and mr hyde to me phil, so am slightly ahead of you on that one mate! I suppose the lesson was not to do owt that me ma would hear about. The lesson was learned after the torture, I'll work on the title a bit more OK!  ha ha.
The scullery was basically an add on on the end of the house, very ramshackle, it was just a long wooden draining board slightly sloping down to what we called a boody sink, boody is the word to describe Sankey or Royal Doulton sinks of the era, its hard to believe how much those common sinks fetch these days innit?  To me in those days, it was more like a trough than a sink.
I'm thinking now of taking the descrips of the dishes in the sink out, if you cant see it in these prelim stages then what chance have others got? It did happen, but of course I was there and your enquiries shows me that others wont be able to imagine it.  
Am puzzled by something youve advised phil. Thru all your crits to me youve said if I have to use a bold or italic, or some such then the words obv arent strong enough to stand on their own. So why underline in the title?
I'll look more at the clique's and pare pare pare. ha ha. Skinny has given me the order to go get her a maccyD, so am off to corrupt her taste-buds, I'm like her burger-pimp, hee hee. respec'

Just saw ya crit shvon you were posting same time as me, so Ive come back to modify.
No one said thered be a quiz! ha.
I see what you mean about the tenses, still a wip on my part as you know, but I'm getting there I think you'll agree. I thought you didnt use capitals on people unless you were talking directly to em, or at the beginning of sentences? I'll work on those as well. 
I saw a couple of tense anomalies myself just now, so I'll work on em when I get back.
 I hope you recog'd the homage I did to you by taking out the whilsts and replacing with whiles! ha ha.
As usual, thank you so much for the input, I'm starting to feel like yours and Dawns and Phils pet-project at the minute! ha ha
(I know phil, cut it out with the exclams and the brackets, he ha)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on December 30, 2012, 03:47:34 PM
There's no rule saying the title has to be underlined - it's just to make sure it stands out from the main body of the text. Different publishing houses have different 'house' styles anyway so if ever you get your work into print they'll decide how it's to be formatted.

H
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 30, 2012, 04:17:45 PM
I swear (part 1)

I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  How to swear, and not get caught.

South Shields, 1967.  I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-gob.  Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.
 
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand had grasped my collar,-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process,- as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd (I  would write had or would-confusing to me) repeatedly promised her (that I'd never sworn at anyone!) (not clear to me) She knew, intuitively, the way that all mothers do, that I was lying, (so she stood hidden) (not clear) on the other side of the gate! (may be just change for because)
 
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd, no comma be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, did you break the law? may be another word--proper, respectable from then now on.  But soon my heels were thumping thumped on the rickety stairs, and all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs, and into the scruffy shed-like scullery: my torture chamber. 

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell Mam had lost it because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor, period Oh gawd, I was in trouble, period I just stood looking at her hoping that if I looked miserable enough she'd relent and take pity on me, but she didn't and yanked me by the hair and collar, period when she had her mad on, she could be a strong bugger!

Mam slapped me onto the damp-smelling drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness seeping into my clothes as my head kept drooping into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates, either semi-colon or a period. now I was directly under the brass tap

On the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hands held me by the throat. I can could see the upside-down view of the few greasy plates left in the sink. There's pans and plates are being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs, period She's fighting to keep me positioned and I'm fighting her to keep my head away from t struggled to bring my head under the tap.  She turns turned the brass tap on, period there's I heard a clunking noise as the air is released, and I can hear the water approaching running up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved--sometimes the water just didn't doesn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those times. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting spluttered and spitted as I still begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh, Gawd, did she do it.
The ironic thing is the reader knows: no need to explain while all this was going on During this (struggle or this episode or event), Mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!" [color=blue ] shit

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated.  It's was a staring match now, if it could be called that, because I have had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth is was still wedged shut, but I'm was trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap. period  God, it's was cold!
 
Then she leans leaned down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange, quiet-like whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling.  I'm shitting myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammered a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather, really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it killed her.

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course, being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it.  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just took place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.

Br. A lot of fun to read. I was having trouble to determine if you wanted to write in the simple past tense or participle form. You switch from "she did" and  "she was doing." (just an example) I did not continue with the changes. The whole text should keep the same form all the way through.

It is my first experience with these keys . . . not easy.



Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 30, 2012, 04:23:15 PM
Protekme and Brian . . . when you are typing in the text box, look above the box, just under the bold Message icon: you'll see sever small buttons with different things in them you can use. B=Bold , I=italic , U=underline,  S=strike through.

There are more button available to use if you wish. let your cursor hover over them and you'll learn what you can do with them.

Now back to your usual thread. Sorry for the interruption.

Thank you!!! I have done it. I'm sure it will get easier as I go along.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 04:39:32 PM
Thanks for the input protek, youve mirrored another poster whos advised the same. I'm working on my tenses cos I'm not used to seperating em. How did it feel posting the way you did? Good eh? I dont know if you know this yet, but youve reached the magic 50 posts so you can add to your profile if you want. I look forward to hearing from you again. Do you have a first name or will you be protektme while youre on here? respec'
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 05:57:26 PM
I swear (part 1)

South Shields, 1967.  I leaned nonchallantly against our wooden gate, in the back lane, I was acting the big man and swearing to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-gob.  I Repeated all the words I'd heard recently, I thought I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, and waited to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.
  
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper. A hand grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, she knew I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, I blubbered and pleaded that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have prevented what I knew was about to happen. But soon my heels thumped on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way up when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser. She hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery.  

She'd warned me time after time that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell mam had lost her rag because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper, oh Gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood and looked at her, I hoped that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me but she didn't, she yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.

Mam slammed me onto the damp smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. I could feel the dampness as it seeped into my clothes, my head drooped into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, she scattered the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed.  Now I was directly under the brass tap, but I was fighting her.

On the draining board, I struggled and wriggled, Mam had a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the muck and grease on the lip of the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly thrashing legs and feet, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the brass tap.  She turned the tap on, there's was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathered on the end of the tap, and I thought to myself I'm saved, sometimes the water just didn't flow on certain days, and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, it soaked my head and neck.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
While all this was going on, Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!" I could hear snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs, "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!" I'd sworn at loads of people so they were probably the ones shouting.

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.  I defiantly stared at her now, if it could be called a stare?  Because I have to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap and God, it was cold!
  
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice, "Brian, open your mouth", she's smiling. It was one of those rictus-smiles where you knew she was gritting her teeth.  I'm really scared now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command had to be obeyed, or woe betide you. I knew then it was no good.
I stammered a quick "Please Mam," and in that instant, she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick! I gagged, I thought I was going to die.  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song, her eyes normally blue and pretty were just slits in her face. Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she really put some 'elbow grease' into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over.  She stood me on my feet, of course, being the devious little git that I am, I wobbled a bit, looked as if I was about to faint, and Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and you knew how to wield it.  As she wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the Carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly in a temper-fuelled rhythm, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just took place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 30, 2012, 06:00:16 PM
exclamation marks >:( Use them wisely.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 30, 2012, 06:23:27 PM
try that now, is that better? xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 30, 2012, 06:51:37 PM
Although you have kept the same tense throughout you have gone was/were/had crazy. It is possible to have: Repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.

Did you read my last crit about consistency [Carbolic/carbolic, gawd/Gawd]? Or Mam/mam? ::) ::) ::) ::) ::)


I swear (part 1)

South Shields, 1967.  I'm[this makes it present tense 'I'm = I am'] Leanted nonchalantly against our wooden gate, in the back lane, I was swearing swore my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-gob.  I repeated all the words I'd heard recently, I and thought I was so big and clever., while The other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what happened next.
 
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock. with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get his arse smacked good and proper.

A hand had grasped my collar -- pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process -- as I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, she knew I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers do, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
 
I was [passive and tell] She dragged me backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps. I blubbered and pleaded that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have prevented what I knew was about to happen. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way up when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser. She hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery. 

She'd warned me [to avoid starting a consecutive sentence with She] Time and time again, she'd warned that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam had lost it because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor. Oh Gawd, I was in trouble.  I just stood and looked at her I hoped that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me but she didn't, and yanked me by the hair and collar.  When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!

Mam slapped me onto the damp smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness as it seeped into my clothes as my head drooped into the big china sink.  Mam didn't like the position I was in because she couldn't Unable to get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, she scattered scattering the greasy pans and plates, that were by the sink waiting to be washed.  Now I was directly under the brass tap

On the draining board, I struggled and wriggled while Mam's had a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding held me by the throat. I can see saw the upside-down view of the muck and grease on the sink lip of the sink. There's Pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs. She fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the brass tap.  She turns turned the tap on, there's was a clunk sounded as the air was released escaped and I heard the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathered on the end of the tap, and I thought to myself I'm I'd been saved. Sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those times. But alas, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, it soaked my head and neck.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
While all this was going on, Mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated.  I defiantly stared at her now, if it could be called a stare?  Because but I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of from the tap and God, it was cold!
 
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like whisper, "Brian, open your mouth." She'd smiled It was one of those rictus-smiles where you knew she was gritting her teeth.  I'm really scared now!  Terror/fear gripped me. Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was The killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command has to be obeyed It demanded obedience, or woe betide you! I knew it was no good.

I stammered a quick, "Please, Mam," and in that instant of begging, she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick! I gagged, I thought I was going to die.  She's now rubbing and drubbing She rubbed and drubbed like it was Monday wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile, I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she really put some 'elbow grease' into it! The taste was so It tasted horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake., and I tried trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so Thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over.  She stood me on my feet, of course, being the a devious little git that I am, I wobbled a bit, looked as if I was about to faint, and Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite. Guilt can be a good commodity when you're eight and you knew how to wield it.  As she wrapped me in her arms, cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back reverted/returned to Were-Mam. My  arse was landed back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She stood in front of me With her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly in a temper-fuelled rhythm. I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath muttered, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't any more of what had just took taken place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.

I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting Mam hear me.

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 30, 2012, 11:05:23 PM
South Shields, 1967.  [this makes it present tense 'I'm = I am'] Leant nonchalantly against our wooden gate, in the back lane, (period) I swore my head off to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-gob.  I repeated all the words I'd heard recently and thought I was so big and clever. The other kids looked on with their mouths open, as they waited to see what would happen happened next. (It requires future or conditional tense)
 
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock. 

A hand grasped my collar -- pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process. I was yanked off my feet, and I flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, and she knew I'd swear again because I'd repeatedly promised her I'd never sworn at anyone. She knew, intuitively the way all mothers do, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate.
 
 [passive and tell] She dragged me backwards across the yard (no comma) past the coal-house and to the back steps. I blubbered and pleaded that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have had I think prevented what I knew was about to happen. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs: (or dash) all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains (no comma) and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way up when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser. She hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery. 

[to avoid starting a consecutive sentence with She] Time and time again, she'd warned that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite: (colon-enumeration)  blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it.

I could tell Mam had lost it because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor. Oh Gawd, I was in trouble. I just stood and looked stared at her and hoped that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me, (comma) but she didn't, and yanked me by the hair and collar.  When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger

Mam slapped me onto the damp smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto his chopping-block. I could feel the dampness as it seeped into my clothes as my head drooped into the big china sink.   Unable to get a strong enough hold on me, she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates (no comma) that were by the sink waiting to be washed.  Now I was directly under the brass tap

On the draining board, I struggled and wriggled while Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand held me by the throat. I saw the upside-down view of muck and grease on the sink lip.  Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs. She fought to keep me positioned, (comma) and I fought her back to keep my head away from the brass tap. She turned the tap on, a clunk sounded as air escaped, (comma) and I heard the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop gathered on the end of the tap, and I thought I'd been saved. Sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those times. But alas, not that day.

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap; (semi-colon or period or join the phrases with and) it soaked my head and neck.  I spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
"I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!" Shit not shite

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated.  I defiantly stared at her, (comma) but I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that gushed from the tap (semi-colon or period—why the “and”) and God, it was cold!
 
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like whisper, "Brian, open your mouth." She'd smiledone of those rictus-smiles where you knew she was gritting her teeth.  Terror/fear gripped me.  The killer-smile brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit.  It demanded obedience, or woe betide you

I stammered a quick, "Please, Mam," and in that instant of begging, she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob. Oh she could be so quick. (period) I gagged, (period) I thought I was going to die.   She rubbed and drubbed like it was Monday washday, (one word) while singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile, I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into (a) lather. The bar wedged into my teeth. It tasted horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake. I tried, like frig, (comma) not to swallow.  Thorough and resolute, she was (determined) determined and resolute are synonyms—instead of determined why not she decided she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over.  She stood me on my feet, of course, being a devious little git, I wobbled a bit, looked as if I was about to faint, and Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite. Guilt can be a good commodity when you're eight and you knew know (because you say you're eight-present) tense) how to wield it.  As she wrapped me in her arms, cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw and instantly reverted/returned to Were-Mam (??). My arse landed back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as a futile acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

 I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you (ever) swear again?"  I hung my head and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.   With her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly in a temper-fuelled rhythm. I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and muttered, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't any more of what had just taken place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.

I'd like to say that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, swearpresent tense I just never put myself in the position of letting Mam hear me.

===========================================================================


It is a lot easier to follow for me, now. Of course, not being British, there are expressions that I don’t understand: bucket-bog, plimsoll, smiledone, frig, git. But it’s okay, I can guess.

As I did not want to overlook 510bhan’s text, I used his/her text to revise and added my 5 cents’ worth. It’s easier for you because it is not a new text.

Thank you, Bri, for telling me that my time has come to pass through the wringer. I’ll wait until you are done with yours. I hope you will participate in the critique of my text.

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 05:00:04 AM
hiya protek, 5io is a girl of the female of the species.   I can multi-task, so feel free to post ya work. I can handle it mate. Happy New year wherever you are. respec bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 06:19:56 AM

protek
plimsoll= a rubber type slipper/shoe popular in England in the 60's, a fore runner to the trainers you see today, usually used in gym's.
frig= frigger, a much milder way of sayin f***er
bucket-gob= foul mouthed, bucket-mouth, a person who swears a lot
smiledone= typo, sorry, it should read smiled one(I think, without goin back to look?)
git= a mild swear word to describe someone irritating or (I don't know anymore, ha ha?)


shvon, help! I'm wallowing in all the tenses, I've lost the direction. Will you do a proofy of me last edit and highlight, cos I'm not gettin it at all now, am so confused bout them. I thought you said because my sentence starts with an "ing" word it affected the rest of the words? I'm not getting the tenses at all. Thanks again for all the help the last few crits shvon, Happy New Year, and all the best to you n yours. x bri x
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 31, 2012, 07:50:58 AM
Sentences which begin I was/there was/they were etc immediately set it up as a tell.

For example:
I was at a dance in the village hall, when I met Matilda Jones. ->>>> At a dance in the village hall, I met Matilda Jones. They say the same thing. #1 is slow and contains extra words -- requiring a longer time to read -- with none of the extra words adding any pertinent detail.

There was a large tree in the front garden which blocked our view across the road. ->>>> A large tree in the front garden blocked our view across the road.

There's pans and plates being scattered ->>>  Pans and plates scattered,

Also, using time signatures like 'now' are redundant -- of course it's happening now, otherwise you would have told us it had already happened or state your intention of what you would do [though you can't actually predict the future and you shouldn't give away what is yet to happen for your readers -- authorial intrusion if you do]


The problem with the tense shifts is you have to decide whether this is 8 year old Brian telling the story as it unfolds [probably not a good idea as 8-year old Brian's voice would be limited to childish vocabulary and reasoning] or Brian now looking back -- recounting past events. It has to stay as what happened, not what is happening . . . you can have what was happening, but that verb construction needs to be used with a deft touch otherwise it will clog the writing with excess words and make the reader take time out to imagine the thing that was being done, rather than the completed action all wrapped up and stated for them by using the 'ed' perfect past tense construction. I was going ->>> I went, I was eating ->>> I ate -- they are completed actions, quicker to read and often the preferable way to write when using a past tense situation.

Sometimes a stronger word choice can eliminate 'was' --  like where I suggested: She saw this and instantly she was back reverted/returned to Were-Mam. My arse was landed back on that draining board in a flash.


The draining board scene you have written in present tense, as if actually happening -- needs to match the rest of the writing and be in the past.


Guilt can could be a good commodity when you're [you were rather than you are interpretation] eight and you knew how to wield it.

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 08:26:41 AM
ah, I see, ok will do a re-edit ternight, are you doin anything special? Skinny's daughter has asbergers so two years ago I created a little ditty and introduced her to First-footing, she loves to do it and she gets ready long long before she's needed, cos she wants to get it right all the time, it has to be "Just so", or she's in a huff(I kinda made a rod for me own back with this) ha ha. This is what happens when you try to do something nice innit? xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 31, 2012, 08:43:25 AM
What's first footing. Brian? Dancing?
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 08:57:25 AM
Its done a lot in the N/E but i suppose its dying out there as well these days,(so much is being lost, too out-dated  probably?) It takes place after the stroke of midnight so the first person across your door-step is hopefully bringing you good luck for the coming year.
Its supposed to be a tall dark person(usually me)
carrying Coal for warmth. Bread for food, Salt for spice. Sugar the same. Money for wealth, to keep you all for the rest of the year.  I made up a little poem for her(vicky) to say to kinda ritualise it for her, but me alzheimers has kicked in again an I cant remember it at the min, Skinny will know it and remind me, to pass on to vicky(I hope), so there you have it. First-footing xbx   
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 09:36:44 AM
I swear (part 1)

South Shields, 1967.  In the back lane, I leaned nonchalantly against our wooden gate.  I was acting the big man and swearing to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  I was repeating all the words I'd heard recently, I thought I was being so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, waiting to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.
  
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get their arse smacked good and proper. A hand grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, she knew I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
She dragged me backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, all the time I was blubbering and pleadeding that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have prevented what I knew was about to happen. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs.  All I saw were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser. She hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery.  

She'd warned me time after time that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell mam had lost her rag because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper, oh Gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her, I hoped that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me but she didn't.  She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.

Mam slammed me onto the damp smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block.  The dampness seeped into my clothes, my head drooped into the big china sink.  Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed.  Now I was directly under the brass tap. I fought her even harder.

On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled, Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand held me by the throat. I could see the upside-down view of the muck and grease of the sinklip. Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly thrashing legs and feet, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the tap.  She turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop gathered on the end, and I thought  I'd been saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, and I'd thought this was one of them. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, it soaked my head and neck.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
While all this was going on, Mam was shouting at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!" I heard snippets of distant shouts as they drifted up the stairs, "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!" I'd sworn at loads of people so they were probably the ones who shouted.

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At that point, three big blokes struggling, wouldn't have got me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.  I remember defiantly staring at her , if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap and God, it was cold!
  
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice, "Brian, open your mouth", she smiled. It was one of those rictus-smiles where you knew she was gritting her teeth.  I was really scared then!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good.
I stammered a quick "Please Mam," instantly she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick! I gagged, I thought on that day I was going to die.  She was rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song, her eyes normally blue and pretty were just slits in her face. Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she really put some 'elbow grease' into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was thorough and resolute,  determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over.  She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked as if I was about to faint.  Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it.  As she wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error.  I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the Carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her. "Now," she said, "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head tiredly and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't. I was knackered from all the struggling.  She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly in a temper-fuelled rhythm, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had took place.  She then sent me to my room without having tea. Looking back today,I wonder if she was surprised or amused to come into the punishment room later and found me snoring?

I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 31, 2012, 09:47:31 AM
Look at your use of was and compare it to passages without was overload . . . can you see/hear the difference? Make some adjustments to your use of was to bring the rest of the piece up to the same standard. ;) Many time the 'was' phrase sets up a straight tell -- not always good if you can show by selecting a stronger verb . . . doesn't add to the word count and makes the piece more active.

I swear (part 1)

South Shields, 1967.  In the back lane, I leaned nonchalantly against our wooden gate.  I was acting the big man and swearing to the bloke next door, who'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  I was repeating all the words I'd heard recently, I thought I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open, waiting to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.
 
I should have got a clue when their eyes widened in shock, with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going get their arse smacked good and proper. A hand grasped my collar-pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process-I was yanked off my feet, and flew back through the gate. Mam had seen through all my lies, she knew I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone! She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate!
 
She dragged me backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, all the time I was blubbering and pleadeding that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding life from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have prevented what I knew was about to happen. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs.  All I saw were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser. She hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery. 

She'd warned me time after time that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as, nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!
I could tell mam had lost her rag because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper, oh Gawd, I was in trouble, I just stood looking at her, I hoped that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me but she didn't.  She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.

Mam slammed me onto the damp smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block.  The dampness seeped into my clothes, my head drooped into the big china sink.  Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed.  Now I was directly under the brass tap. I fought her even harder.

On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled, Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand held me by the throat. I could see the upside-down view of the muck and grease of the sinklip. Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly thrashing legs and feet, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the tap.  She turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop gathered on the end of the tap, and I thought  I'm saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, and I thought that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, it soaked my head and neck.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd did she do it.
While all this was going on, Mam was shouting at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!" I heard snippets of distant shouts as they drifted up the stairs, "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!" I'd sworn at loads of people so they were probably the ones who shouted.

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. At that point, three big blokes struggling, wouldn't have got me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.  I remember defiantly staring at her , if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap and God, it was cold!
 
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice, "Brian, open your mouth", she smiled. It was one of those rictus-smiles where you knew she was gritting her teeth.  I was really scared then!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was the killer-smile that brooked no arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good.
I stammered a quick "Please Mam," and in that instant, she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick! I gagged, I thought on that day I was going to die.  She's was rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song, her eyes normally blue and pretty were just slits in her face. Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she really put some 'elbow grease' into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow.  She was so thorough and resolute, she was determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over.  She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, looked as if I was about to faint, and Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and you knew how to wield it.  As she wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash.  She had the Carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again.  I looked on with what I can only describe as a futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head tiredly and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't.  She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly in a temper-fuelled rhythm, I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had took place.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.

I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.


Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 31, 2012, 10:03:15 AM
Ah Brian - I was telling Fire Fly that my mum and dad used to send me, and my brother out at midnight with a coin. I used to think they were making up this tradition and wanted a cheeky snog. Eeeeh so it did exist. lol
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on December 31, 2012, 11:38:00 AM
I would add this bit of advice - adverbs, use them wisely, or better still not at all.
I leaned nonchalantly against our wooden gate
I'm no wiser how you were leaning - and since you tell us shortly afterwards that you were 'acting the big man' we don't need the adverb.

There's also still some superfluous detail that could be tightened up. I thought I'd do a 510 since I've got a spare hour or two:

South Shields, 1967. In the back lane, I leaned nonchalantly against our wooden back gate . I was, acting the big man and swearing to in front of the bloke next door . (,) who'd I was swearing at him even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth. I was repeating all the fancy? words I'd heard recently, I thought I was feeling so big and clever (,) while the other kids looked on with their mouths open. (,) waiting They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd. [Not so keen on this observation - takes us out of the story.]

I should have got a clue realised when their eyes widened in shock (,) with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going to get his arse smacked good and proper. But I was too busy showing off until Asomeone's hand grasped my collar. -pulling a few hairs out at the back of my neck in the process- [Not keen on this either - it diminishes the shock of what follows] ThenI was yanked off my feet, and flew back got hauled ? through the gate.


Mam had seen through all my lies, she knew I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd never sworn at anyone!
[This needs rearranging because you've not told us you promised not to swear yet so there are no lies for her to see through.]
I'd promised to Mam on numerous occasions that I'd never sworn at anyone, but she had seen through my lies. She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd stood hidden on the other side of the gate (!)  and heard my performance.


She dragged me backwards [Try to keep the choreography simple so it's easier to picture.] across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps. (,)All the time I was blubbering and pleadeding that I'd be good and live a chaste, decent law-abiding  [Is this your eight-year-old memory or an older person's - it seems over the top.] virtuous? life, from then on. I'd have sworn to anything if it would have prevented what I knew was about to happen [clunky] to avoid what I knew was coming next. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated . All I saw were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains. (,) and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser . She but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy shed-like scullery.

She'd warned me time after time that if she ever caught me swearing (,) she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as (,) nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it. (!)

I could tell mam had lost her rag meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper. ( ,) o Oh Gawd, I was in trouble. (,) I just stood looking at her, I hoped hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent and take pity on me  [Means the same as relent - don't need both] but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact. Mam [More distracting observations - doesn't work for me I'm sorry.] Mam Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer (,) like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The dampness seeped into my clothes (,) as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed. Now until I was directly under the brass tap.
New paragraph

I fought her even harder.On the draining board, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat. I could see the upside-down view of the muck and grease of the sinklip. [Sorry - I still think this 'upside-down view' is unnecessary and confuses the picture as you've already told us you're facing the spout of the tap.]
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the brass tap.
Pans and plates scattered , clattering and clattered everywhere by my wildly thrashing as my legs and feet thrashed wildly. , she fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the tap. [Getting repetitive]
New paragraph

She turned the tap on. (,) there There was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water approaching surging ? up the pipe.  A Then a single drop of water gathered on the end of the tap (,) and I thought I'd been saved. ( ,) sSometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of them those times. But alas for me, not that day. (!)

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, it soaked soaking my head and neck perhaps add something here to show how it felt at that exact moment.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd, did she do it? (.)
While all this was going on, All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you, (?) you f***ing little shite? (!("
New paragraph
I heard snippets of distant shouts as they drifted encouragement ? drifting up the stairs. (,)
New paragraph
 "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!" I'd sworn at loads of people so they were probably the ones who shouted.
[Why?? tell?? us?? this??]

I jammed snapped my mouth shut closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in.  she couldn't slip the Carbolic between my lips if they were closed tight ?
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam.
New paragraph

At that point, three big blokes struggling, [Is that the best you could find?] Why not But three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter more quietly.

I remember defiantly staring at her , if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap and God, it was cold!
[This is still a bit of a muddle - you'd do better to tell us how cold the tap water was earlier in the scene (without the  exclamation mark) -  and the rest adds nothing new.]

Then she leaned down , got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice creepy little whisper ?, "Brian, open your mouth." " (,) she smiled. It was She smiled one of those rictus-smiles where you I knew she was  also gritting her teeth.  I was really scared. then (!)
Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. [Pointless observation - get on with the story!!!!!!!!!]

This was the killer-smile. that brooked no  No more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm, almost tender ? command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good.[Bit weak - it was time to surrender ?]

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob. (!)  Oh she could be so quick. (!) I gagged. (,) I thought on that day [Bit weak again - knew for sure ?] I was going to die.  She was began rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song. (,) h Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just slits in her face. [Where else would they be?]
Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then [Doesn't really add anything new]. The bar is was wedged into between my teeth , she really put some 'elbow grease' into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, [Getting muddled again.]  and the toilet taste made me want to gag ? and trying as I tried like frig not to swallow. She was thorough and resolute, determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.


Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked as if I was about to faint. Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. As she wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash. She had the Carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.
[/I]

I have to say this ^^ underlined bit left me cold - you've reached the climax of the tale yet you throw in another trick and almost blow it in my opinion. By all means play on the deviousness of the eight-year-old git and the' were-mother', but I'm not keen on a repeat performance of what's already happened.
I think it would work just as well if she gave you a cuddle and you felt you'd scored a point by looking so sweet and innocent before she grabs you by the throat and asks"Will you ever swear again?"

I hung my head tiredly [Needs a stronger image.] and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't. I was knackered from all the struggling. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot tapped constantly tapping its in a temper-fuelled rhythm. , I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign. She sighed and said under her breath (,) as she shook her head slowly from side to side. (,) "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had took place.She then sent me to my room without having tea.
[Bit of an anticlimax - is it necessary to add any of this detail at the end?]

Looking back today,I wonder if she was surprised or amused to come into the punishment room later and found me snoring?
Same as before - you're butting in on the story.]

I'd like to say at the end here I wish I could admit that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore. (,) I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.


A lot of comments ^^ which you can take with as much salt as you wish. At least the exclamation marks are slowly disappearing. Now you need to sort out the dreaded comma.

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on December 31, 2012, 01:20:09 PM
protek
plimsoll= a rubber type slipper/shoe popular in England in the 60's, a fore runner to the trainers you see today, usually used in gym's.
frig= frigger, a much milder way of sayin f***er
bucket-gob= foul mouthed, bucket-mouth, a person who swears a lot
smiledone= typo, sorry, it should read smiled one(I think, without goin back to look?)
git= a mild swear word to describe someone irritating or (I don't know anymore, ha ha?)


shvon, help! I'm wallowing in all the tenses, I've lost the direction. Will you do a proofy of me last edit and highlight, cos I'm not gettin it at all now, am so confused bout them. I thought you said because my sentence starts with an "ing" word it affected the rest of the words? I'm not getting the tenses at all. Thanks again for all the help the last few crits shvon, Happy New Year, and all the best to you n yours. x bri x

Thanks for your translation, mate. :) As far as the proofy of your last edit, Hiillwalker has done an impeccable job. No need to add anything after that. I understand what you meant by getting good help on this forum. Geez, I wish I'll receive the same input from everybody.

I will use Protekme for my presentation: this is my forum name.

You are a fun guy. . . continue to bring us hilarious stories.
Happy, successful New Year from Mexico, Bri. 
Nic

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 01:38:50 PM
Is this crit cos I critted ya poem Phil? ha ha.

Thanks for the crit mate, but I need a favour off ya, I need to concentrate on me tenses first. Once I get those right I'll look at changing the words.  I must admit, I'm liking the way its flowing at the minute, and some of your changes I dont agree with.  The changes you describe dont make sense to me, I don't mean that in an offensive or defensive way, just that your changes change the story and my voice in itIMHO, do you know what I mean?  I'm gonna upset Shvon as well, cos I've seen an example where a Whilst could go in as well.
I'll come back to this after the hostilities are all over.  I hope my answer here doesn't put you off future crits, cos you know I value your opinion and input.  I'm glad youve affected my work positively by enforcing the change of the exclams, even I see now they do nothing to enhance the words or the context. I just have to concentrate on the commas now. respec' bri.  

came back to modify and send a message to nic, thanks for the input and I told you when you came here what it was like re support and good help. Lastly, my Daughter is in Mexico at the minute(I think) She got mugged in Cochabamba, Is that near you? Happy New Year nic, respec bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 31, 2012, 01:51:31 PM
Please remember we are not experts and often the suggestions I give are based on experience of 'correct' usage or 'approved style' -- dunno how I know stuff, can't explain it -- just know it is often the right way to do it. ;) Can't be arsed finding out why it's right and the full tech spec on it as it doesn't affect my own writing. I can only see/hear what jumps out at me as clumsy or ill-formed expression and offer alternatives based on my own limitations, though I do try to stay close to a writer's style where possible. ;D ;D ;D

Most importantly, you are writing for your reader, not yourself -- so whenever authorial intrusion is mentioned, it is best to tweak or remove the offending sentence/phrase. It's like a stage aside, or an in-joke, and takes the reader out of the narrative. :)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 02:14:02 PM
Please remember we are not experts and often the suggestions I give are based on experience of 'correct' usage or 'approved style' -- dunno how I know stuff, can't explain it -- just know it is often the right way to do it. ;) Can't be arsed finding out why it's right and the full tech spec on it as it doesn't affect my own writing. I can only see/hear what jumps out at me as clumsy or ill-formed expression and offer alternatives based on my own limitations, though I do try to stay close to a writer's style where possible. ;D ;D ;D

Most importantly, you are writing for your reader, not yourself -- so whenever authorial intrusion is mentioned, it is best to tweak or remove the offending sentence/phrase. It's like a stage aside, or an in-joke, and takes the reader out of the narrative. :)

To tell you the truth shvon, i dont know who I'm aiming my stories at? I've said from the start, that I had no intention of being published.  But now with all this extra knowledge I've gained from you n phil and the rest, I'm leaning ever more towards mebbee getting something printed, not sure yet. I think I'll get em ready for myself and when/if I decide to publish, I'll tighten em up.  I may even do two versions, mine and yours. All up in the air at the minute.  I have so much more to learn before I even get close to that exalted state I feel.  I think with these stories am finding my voice a lot more, but I'm so so whishing I'd paid more attention in English at school now, cos it would be so much easier if I'd learned the good habits back then. xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on December 31, 2012, 02:14:55 PM
We can only guide each other. Pick up spots that we as writers miss. Your voice is what makes your writing. However, you have to get the basics right. It gets easier. It's like learning to drive. At first you have to think about the gears, how you hold the wheel, which pedals, but after a while it becomes instinctive and you can work more on the flair.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 05:11:49 PM
Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing

I swear (part 1)


South Shields, 1967. In the back lane, I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door . I was swearing at him even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever while the other kids looked on with their mouths open. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.

I should have realised when their eyes widened in shock with the knowledge that someone other than themselves was going to get their arse smacked good and proper. But I was too busy showing off until someone's hand grasped my collar yanked me off my feet, and I got hauled through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies in the past.  She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I had never sworn at anyone!
She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

She dragged me across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, I was blubbering and pleadeding that I'd be good  from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what I knew was coming next. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains.  I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly that if she caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite.  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper, oh Gawd, I was in trouble,  I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.  Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed,until I was directly under the brass tap.

I fought her even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat. I could see the upside-down view of the muck and grease of the sinklip.
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought her back to keep my head away from the tap.

She turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe.  Then a single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness of the water froze me where I lay.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. Oh Gawd, did she do it.
All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open for the Carbolic to be got in. she couldn't shove it between my lips if they were closed tight ?
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my mouth.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.

I remember defiantly staring at her, if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My mouth was still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap.

Then she leaned down , got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth," then she gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. I was really scared. then!
Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about.  This was the killer-smile. that brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good.

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She began rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while singing some obscure little song.  Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just slits in her face.
Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then. The bar was wedged between my teeth, she really put some 'elbow grease' into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow. She was thorough, determined she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked as if I was about to faint. Mam wrapped me in her arms, acting all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. As she wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she was for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash. She had the Carbolic soap in her hand raised and ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer.

I hung my head, I was totally knackered by my exertions and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble at this sign. She sighed and said under her breath, as she shook her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

I'd like to say at the end here I wish I could admit that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, because I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me.


Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 05:44:25 PM
I had second thoughts and decided to try most of Phils suggestions to see how it looks, I kinda like it, I'll come back later and have a proper look to see if I'm still in there anywhere!  ;D
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on December 31, 2012, 10:05:18 PM
Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, while the other kids looked on with their mouths open.

This is not a style call -- it is grammatically incorrect with 'while' in there. If you want to use 'while' it will have to go at the beginning of the sentence, but -- this is a style call -- I think that weakens the sentence and is unnecessary as it can cope without it. ;)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on December 31, 2012, 10:28:25 PM
hmmm? First crit of the new year chuck thanks for it. I'll bow to your wisdom o great one and take the bugger out. ha ha, did you party then or just have a quiet one? xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 01, 2013, 06:41:18 AM
Quick couple of spots:

In the back lane, I leaned against our back gate

I was blubbering and pleadeding that I'd be good

I could see the upside-down view of the muck and grease of the sinklip. - no comment.

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew that my mouth had to be open . . ."Open your mouth '. . . three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my mouth. "Open your mouth"

HNY

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 09:03:17 AM
Happy New Year to you as well phil, thanks for the 3 pit ponies, sometimes we cant see whats obviously right in front of our own faces. I never thought of that ref. See what you mean about the repeats of mouth, will re-edit later. respec
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 09:07:59 AM
Just checking what I wrote in my last post -- told you I was no expert -- and I think it's maybe a syntax issue. ;)

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20061222213318AAMSvWM
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 09:14:16 AM
were you pished when you sent it like? I didn go up till after 5am,We partied like it was 1995, ha ha, but only till 3, am still knackered but good, not knackered like I'd just gone a round with mam tryin to wash me gob! ha ha.(gawd I miss her still). x
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 09:17:22 AM
Vicky being our first foot, she was sooooo nervous cos she always wants it to be perfect, its part of her asbergers. But she flawlessly did well.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?v=10200218564892034&set=vb.1389686526&type=2&theater

That doesnt look like a normal blue-link thingy!
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 09:29:33 AM
were you pished when you sent it like? I didn go up till after 5am,We partied like it was 1995, ha ha, but only till 3, am still knackered but good, not knackered like I'd just gone a round with mam tryin to wash me gob! ha ha.(gawd I miss her still). x

No -- trying to reinstall Windows in my daughter's laptop. ;D Such excitement. ::)
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 09:46:14 AM
whas the problem like?
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 11:22:38 AM
Seems to have died . . . playing with a recovery disk but it never gets any further than the part where you select the partitions. >:(
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 11:25:56 AM
sounds like a return to the shop is on the cards cos theres a bug in the systm! Or get gyp to advise, he's quite good with techie stuff like this. x
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 4th edit, #45, inc intro, 1508 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on January 01, 2013, 12:34:41 PM


came back to modify and send a message to nic, thanks for the input and I told you when you came here what it was like re support and good help. Lastly, my Daughter is in Mexico at the minute(I think) She got mugged in Cochabamba, Is that near you? Happy New Year nic, respec bri.

Cochabamba is not in Mexico; never heard of it. I ckd it out. It is in Bolivia.
Get a good rest and be ready for my text. I'm giving it a last look and will send it sooooon . . .

Your text looks a lot better, Bri. A quick revision for now. I'll get to it later.

You still have to watch for commas and periods. When it is a full sentence, done with, you end it with a period, semi-colon or colon when there is an enumeration.

She dragged me across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, . I was blubbering . . .

Why a comma after yard? Skip across the yard and you'll see how it reads: she dragged me past the coal-house or she dragged me behind ..... (there would be no comma) Unless you meant to say passed (a verb).

She dragged me across the yard, passed the coal-house and reached the back step.
Or
She dragged me across the yard past the coal-house to the back steps.

perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite. : Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, (enumeration)

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper, . oh Gawd, I was in trouble, .  I just stood looking at her . . . After temper, your sentence is complete. Oh Gawd, I was in trouble. (this is a independent sentence on its own)

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 12:43:59 PM
Thanks for the advice protek, I see what you mean about the commas and periods, I'm working on improving my use of puncts, but its hard man! ha ha. I dont know what "enumeration" means? I'm taking a guess its something to do with the numbers of something, but I dont know what?  bri
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 12:45:21 PM
I think this is a list [requiring separation by commas] of all the separate places his mum dragged him past to get him from where he was to the house and the scullery.

She dragged me across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps. I was blubbering . . .

Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 12:52:56 PM
I still dont get it. But I see now I dont need the comma between yard and to. Something more for me to look at(Will it never end? Woe is me! ha ha) resp, bri
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 01:06:24 PM
You could have a comma if you choose to express the mention of 'past the coal house' as parenthesis -- an aside, extra info.

She dragged me across the yard, past the coal-house, and to the back steps.

In effect this then says: She dragged me across the yard (past the coal-house which happened to be en route) and to the back steps. :D

See how the little marks are VERY important?

And as protekme suggests:

She dragged me across the yard, passed the coal-house and reached the back step.
Or
She dragged me across the yard past the coal-house to the back steps.


Or . . . another way: She dragged me across the yard and passed the coal-house to reach the back step. ;D
She dragged me across the yard and past the coal-house to reach the back step


You have to decide what picture you want the reader to see. ;D ;D ;D
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 01:14:17 PM
Well actually if you must know, she didnt drag me across the yard at all! She took me by the hand, told me what a good boy I was for upsetting the shitey, obnoxious man next door who she hated, gave me a shilling for sweets and took me to The Regent Cinema to watch Mary Poppins! ha ha.

she dragged me across the yard past the coalhouse to the steps.
 I may in the next few hours take out the coalhouse cos on reflection, its not needed
(I can see phil right this minute noddin his head sayin " I told ya! I friggin told ya!") ha ha. love from me.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: Clarius on January 01, 2013, 01:43:15 PM
Don't forget the importance of commas. The Anglo-Irish revolutionary Roger Casement was hung because of one.

"she dragged me across the yard past the coalhouse to the steps" - the yard is situated beyond the coalhouse

"she dragged me across the yard, past the coalhouse, and up the steps." - the yard, the coalhouse, the steps
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 01:46:49 PM
was he dragged across the yard for swearin at his ma like? laf. b
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on January 01, 2013, 03:32:14 PM
Thanks for the advice protek, I see what you mean about the commas and periods, I'm working on improving my use of puncts, but its hard man! ha ha. I dont know what "enumeration" means? I'm taking a guess its something to do with the numbers of something, but I dont know what?  bri

Enumeration is when you list items. You ABSOLUTELY need the colon when there is no verb related to it. Ex.:

I will buy many items for school: pens, pencils, books and a dictionary.  You are enumerating the items.
At the market, we saw: tomatoes, apples and bananas. Or we saw tomatoes, apples and bananas (no comma and you can do without a colon because of the verb).
At the market there were tomatoes, apples and bananas. You don't NEED (but you could) have a colon in this case because of the verb).

This next sentence does not need the colon because you have "categorized as" which takes the place of the colon. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing,

but

Carbolic was the total opposite: blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible . . .  There is no verb related to the list.

I'm sorry not be able to explain it better. I hope you understand the difference.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 03:42:20 PM
isnt smelling of disinfectant, "smelling" a verb?
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 01, 2013, 03:47:13 PM
I think you're using 'smelling' in this instance as an adjective.

Carbolic was the total opposite: blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible . . .

OR

Carbolic, the total opposite and generally horrible, was a blocky, rough, disinfectant-smelling and lather-less industrial cleaner.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 03:50:33 PM
yeah I see that shvon, I prefer the first version of it better. I cant go over my edit till tomorrow, so all these prompts will have to be read again(groans)(but not really cos I love gettin into it!) xbx
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: drbateman86 on January 01, 2013, 04:06:57 PM
You have a fantastic gift for story telling and I thoroughly enjoyed the piece. The language you use is colorful and interesting, and the visuals are crystal clear in my head. There have been plenty of posts regarding grammar and punctuation fixes, but the only thing that I noticed initially was the abundant use of exclamation points which someone else already pointed out. I am looking forward to reading more of your work, and I have to say that after a few gut-check comments on my first post, your words were a pleasant surprise, so thank you.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: protekme on January 01, 2013, 04:12:49 PM
You have a fantastic gift for story telling and I thoroughly enjoyed the piece. The language you use is colorful and interesting, and the visuals are crystal clear in my head.

Totally agree.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 05:19:46 PM
See that the rest of you, "I got Fans!!" ha ha. Thanks for that both of you, the content is mine but the puncts and the other techie stuff is everyone elses here, an I love em all.  You might find this hard to believe you newbies, but I've only been on this site just over a month! Isn it a great place to learn and share? bri
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 05:48:15 PM
I have to say that after a few gut-check comments on my first post

Hiya, what did you mean by this, gut-check, this is a new term for me? Thanks, bri.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: drbateman86 on January 01, 2013, 05:54:37 PM
Just that I was caught off guard by some of the bitter truths. They were all appreciated though, how can we ever learn if we don't know our weak points. specifically, it referred to a swift hit to the belly.
Title: Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 5th edit, #54, inc intro, 1488 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 06:01:08 PM
oh right dev, good term, dont be so surprised to see that crop up in me words at some future point, ha ha. How you likin the site up to now? Have you tried any of the competitions or challenges? Theyre great, I enjoy em. btw, if you look around the boards you'll see a few of me pieces and the great crits I got in support, plus one I shamefully add, where I lost it with a fellow who critted me and I totally embarassed myself by reacting badly to it. Cheers matey. respec bri.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, one F word, plus mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 08:54:10 PM
I swear


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.  Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. But I was too busy showing off until someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies in the past.  She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I had never sworn at anyone at all!
She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

She dragged me across the yard to the back steps.  I was blubbering and pleading with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what was coming next. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains.  I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly that if she caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh Gawd, I was in big trouble.  I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.  Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed, until I was directly under the brass tap.

I fought her even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat, I could feel her fingernails digging into my neck, and they hurt.
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought back to keep my head away from the tap.

She reached over me and turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. Then a single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness of the water froze me where I lay.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it.
All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.
"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.

I remember defiantly staring at her, if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth," then she gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. I was really scared then!
Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about.  This was the killer-smile. That brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She began rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while humming some obscure song. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just slits in her face. I was familiar with that look as well.
Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then. The bar was wedged between my teeth, she really put some elbow grease into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow. She was determined though, she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Mam gathered me in her arms, all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, I was totally knackered by my exertions and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly, sighed and said quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried me Mam who'd died from Cancer, I was reminded of the taste of that Soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me Ma's sitting room for her wake.  I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question.
"Did it work then?  did she teach you to stop swearing?"
All their eyes were on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer.
"Did she Fuck!"


I'm just trying this ending out to see if I like it this way. Thanks, bri


Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 01, 2013, 09:49:02 PM
While I'm waiting for the crits to surely come(ha ha) can I ask phil or shvon summink? I always, when reffering to my mother, used "me ma". would it detract any if I changed all the references of this to "me ma" instead of "my mam?", gnight all. bri.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 07:38:26 AM
I don't see why not -- reading through I only saw you referring to her as 'Mam' not 'my mam', so I don't think the ooccasional substitution would be confusing. ;)
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 07:45:16 AM
Thanks shvon, it just seems to me to be asking for my voice by wanting to be read as "me ma" other than the more formal "my Mother" or "my Mam". Plus I didn't want the black-hatted critter(phil) breathing down me neck!  ;D
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 07:51:21 AM
Did another re-edit shvon, is it looking tighter and are the tenses looking better? Took some stuff out due to yours and phils suggestions. xbx
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 07:57:28 AM
'me ma' or 'me mam' - it matters not as long as you are consistent.

This 6th redraft is so much better. Now it's probably ready to be ripped to shreds by a copy-editor.
Don't think you've finished with it. This is just the start.  ;D

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 07:58:12 AM
Yep -- getting better each time. I still feel there are some superfluous parts and a couple of areas where you tell rather than show which should either be cut or tweaked, but you obviously like them.

You've done a good job on the tenses . . . can you see for yourself where and why now?
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 08:03:51 AM
no, but I'll keep looking till I see! ha ha.  I'll print the last version off and then come back to it at a later date and then see if it still looks as good. As usual, you two have led me by a meandering path to this point, and as usual again I struggled with your concepts like the unhappy uneducated fool that I am. But once again youve both(and the others) showed me the strengths and weaknesses of it, and I'll be eternally grateful to yous. One last thing, for my own reference, whats the best? Show? or Tell? I cant remember, I think its show with a little bit of tell, is that right? respec.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 08:09:51 AM
Correct -- balance and variety -- tell it if it needs to shift things on but show all the good stuff to make the reader feel part of the scene. ;)
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 08:34:34 AM
will try to remember that nex time I do a crit on YOUR work! ha ha, cheers shvon. xxxx
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: Dawn on January 02, 2013, 08:56:43 AM
I promised I would look at this for you, buddy. All just my opinion as usual. Definitely getting tighter.

I swear


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door. Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth. Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. But I was too busy showing off until someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies in the past. She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I had never sworn at anyone at all! (still could be tighter maybe – I’d repeatedly promised I’d never sworn at anyone)She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

She dragged me across the yard to the back steps. I was blubbering and pleading with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what was coming next. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly that if she caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet (sorry still don’t like nice) soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite: Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper. Oh Gawd, I was in big trouble. I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on (could maybe do with a comma) she could be a strong bugger! Quite (you could get rid of quite) scary in fact. Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further (I always thought distance was farther?)  up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were (get rid of that were)  by the sink waiting to be washed, until I was directly under the brass tap.

I fought her even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,(needs a space)trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat, I could feel her fingernails digging into my neck, and they hurt.
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought back to keep my head away from the tap.

She reached over me and turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. Then a single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness of the water (do you need the water as we know your by the tap?) froze me where I lay. I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go. But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it.
All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice (bit clichéd sorry) "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you? You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs. "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.
"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.

I remember defiantly staring at her, if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth," then she gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. I was really scared then!
Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This was ( I would get rid of This was and just have The killer smile – gives more impact)the killer-smile. That brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone (get rid of anyone).  I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob! Oh she could be so quick! I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die. She began rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while humming some obscure song. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just slits in her face. I was familiar with that look as well. (could be worded better)Meanwhile (comma) I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then. The bar was wedged between my teeth, she really put some elbow grease into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow. She was determined though, she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally( comma) it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint.( Okay I’m not getting how this is devious?)  Mam gathered me in her arms, all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage? (could you not show this by using internal thoughts? How could I use this to my advantage?[/i]She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself. This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, I was totally knackered by my exertions and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm. I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly, sighed and said quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 09:02:54 AM
I hung my head I was and, totally knackered by my exertions, and swore on the Bible that I'd never wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me [unless she has gone somewhere, the reader would expect her to be there] With her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm, I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly, and  sighed, and said quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 09:13:46 AM
Show? or Tell? I cant remember, I think its show with a little bit of tell, is that right? respec.

Tell is where the author tells us what's happening - like a reporter. It's ok for action sequences, or in thrillers where the reader needs to be fed a lot of information quickly. But feeding too much background this way - like in an info dump - is a sign of unoriginal writing.

Show is where we are shown the action or emotions through one of the character's behaviour or dialogue, etc. It works better because the reader feels they are there at the heart of things instead of reading about everything second-hand.

H3k
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 6th edit, #85, inc intro, 1427 words, mild swearing
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 11:00:47 AM
to the three of you, I see what you mean. I agree with the tightening ups as well(who are you?)ha. This will never be finished, just close. ha ha. got a surprise visit off me sis, this last hour, she lived with nanna when all this was going on and she got a bit teary when she read what I put, so it does have the "power" ha. Thanks guys. x
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 01:41:58 PM
I swear


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.  Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. But I was too busy showing off until someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies in the past.  She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I had never sworn at anyone at all!
She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

She dragged me across the yard to the back steps.  I was blubbering and pleading with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what was coming next. But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains.  I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly that if she caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh Gawd, I was in big trouble.  I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong bugger!  Quite scary in fact.  Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed, until I was directly under the brass tap.

I fought her even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat, I could feel her fingernails digging into my neck, and they hurt.
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, she fought to keep me positioned and I fought back to keep my head away from the tap.

She reached over me and turned the tap on, there was a clunk as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. Then a single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved, sometimes the water didn't flow on certain days, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness of the water froze me where I lay.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it.
All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.
"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.
"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter.

I remember defiantly staring at her, if it could be called a stare? I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still wedged shut, but at the same time I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth," then she gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. I was really scared then!
Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about.  This was the killer-smile. That brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She began rubbing and drubbing like wash day on a Monday, while humming some obscure song. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just slits in her face. I was familiar with that look as well.
Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then. The bar was wedged between my teeth, she really put some elbow grease into it. The taste was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, and trying like frig not to swallow. She was determined though, she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Mam gathered me in her arms, all contrite, guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam, my arse was back on that draining board in a flash. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, I was totally knackered by my exertions and swore on the Bible that I wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly, sighed and said quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried me Mam who'd died from Cancer, I was reminded of the taste of that Soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me Ma's sitting room for her wake.  I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question.
"Did it work then?  did she teach you to stop swearing?"
All their eyes were on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer.
"Did she Fuck!"
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 01:57:03 PM
I left out this bit cos it takes you out of the swearing theme-thingy and I didn't want it to be more sadder than it was.  Me Ma saved glass bells and she had a good hundred or so, and she arranged with me aunty Syl that she'd pass them out to us all after the funeral, with the words
"When you ring this, I'll be thinking of you" it took Syl all her strength just to get the words out, she had to struggle a few times to do it. I'll always love me aunty Syl for doing this. Me n her were always on the same wavelength. Of course, after that it set us all crying again, then me aunty Syl uttered the immortal words,(to me) 
 "Oh stoppit the lot of you's!  You'd think someone had died, the way youre all gannin on!" I felt her pain at the time and ever since then. So I left all that out.  Good decision do you think? bri
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 01:59:52 PM
Good decision.

I'm still curious why you needed to mention in the story that your mother died of cancer. It's relevant in your family's history obviously, but irrelevant as far as the story's concerned. You need to look closer at why you're sharing certain memories with your audience. Is it for our benefit or yours?

H3K 
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 02:36:19 PM
I think in this instance phil it can be both. the words "died from Cancer" has a finality about it that(Mebbee just to me) have a suddn stop feel to em, just a hunch on my part, like all me descrips, they can be pared. I think the word "cancer" has a power that conjures all kinds of scenes to different people. I'll think about it a bit more. Did you like the end of it with the extra bit on it the way I described it? What I mean is, does the interpretation sound like me, or you? b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: junel on January 02, 2013, 02:40:31 PM
Hi Brianh,

South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.  Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.

Underlined part -- Would be better 'shown' than 'told'.

Quick e.g.: I leaned against our back gate, chewing gum and eyeballing the bloke next door.

Blue parts -- Three repetitions of the same thought.

Mouthing off to him and swearing; my bucket-mouth; Repeating all the foul words, all say you were 'swearing'. Don't need to be told so many times. Better sentence structuring would fix this. I understand this is written in regional talk, but the repetitiveness isn't adding to the dialect's charms.

Maroon parts -- Again, two repetitions of the same thought.

Navy part -- Do you mean before the telly was invented? Or before they were about to watch telly? It's not clear.

Hope something helps.

Junel.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 02:55:47 PM
Hey Junel, I liked what you did there, that was good adv and I loved the key, but next time I think it would be easier if you put the key at the top so I could just acroll down and read your crit at the same time, instead of jumping from top to bottom to top again. Cheers bri.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 03:11:47 PM
Holy, blistering, herpes, Brian . . . I want to bang my head against your mam's drainer! Have you read the thread about writing tight? I'm only skimming the surface here.
*Then = naughty most of the time, lazy word.
*Repeats, unless for effect and impact = naughty/lazy.
*Fragments need to be effective to work.
*Variety in structure/sentence openings etc . . .
*Authorial intrusion --- you lose readers that way -- why do it -- you've just spent time painting a picture to place them in the scene and then you pull them out of it. WHY? Why? Why? After that, you've got to get them back again.
*Exclamation marks -- really . . .  ::) The only time you need them in this piece is during Mam's rant.
*Telling/showing: your use of was/were in most places here turns the sentence/s into a tell instead of keeping the reader within the action taking place and retaining the tension and excitement contained in the scene.

I swear


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.  Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth. [frag that doesn't work IMO]  Repeating [consecutive sentences beginning with ing -- variety/balance/effect/style . . .] all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next. Altercations in those days before telly, always attracted a small crowd.[authorial intrusion -- takes the reader out from the 1967 scene and  imagining life without television]

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. But While I was too busy showing off,  until someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies in the past[they wouldn't be future ones, would they?].  She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I had never sworn at anyone [if you feel the need to have 'at all' change it to 'ever' to lost one of the 'at' mentions in the sentence] at all!

She knew, intuitively the way that all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

She[previous sentence began with She and as Mam is the only female mentioned in the piece the reader can work out who must be doing the action through your use of 'her']  Dragged me across the yard to the back steps,  I was blubbering and pleading [I'd still prefer blubbered and pleaded] with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what was coming came  next. But soon My heels were thumping thumped  on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains.  I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly that if she caught me swearing, [we can guess this -- don't waste words if your reader can join the dots without them] she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh Gawd, I was in big trouble.  I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong, scary  bugger!  Quite scary in fact.  Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. The Dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she couldn't get a strong enough hold on me, so she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were by the sink waiting to be washed, until I was she shoved my head directly under the brass tap.

I fought her even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled, trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat. I could feel Her fingernails digging dug into my neck, deep into the skin, and they hurt.
But Mam still managed to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly in our battle, neither of us willing to give in. she fought to keep me positioned and I fought back to keep my head away from the tap.

She reached over me and turned the tap on. there was A clunk sounded. I waited  as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. Then A single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved. Sometimes [/u] the water didn't flow on certain days, [one or other of the underlined expressions, not both] due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness of the water froze me where I lay.  I now spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it.
All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I snapped my mouth shut. [to avoid repeat of closed and 'jammed' later on with the soap] jammed my mouth closed with a snap. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.

"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted Mam. Her voice bounced off the walls and ripped right through me. [we know it's Mam speaking -- find a way to show her bellows/shouts, my example isn't much, just an idea.]

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.

"Open your mouth" she repeated quieter. [show this . . . see previous comment]

I remember defiantly staring at her, if it could be called a stare? but  I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still wedged clamped shut, but at the same time as I tried to dodge the water that still gushed out of the tap.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a really strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth." then She gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. I was really scared then!

Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving Mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about.  This was
The killer-smile. That It  brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick, "Please, Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She began rubbing and drubbing [why not just make it perfect past tense with 'ed' verbs?] like wash day on a Monday, while humming some obscure song. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, were just turned to  slits in her face[where else did your ma keep her eyes?].  I was familiar with that look as well.

Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather, I felt really sorry for myself then. [vague, weak, intrusive -- show rather than tell] After she wedged the bar was wedged between my teeth, she really put some elbow grease into it. The It tasted was horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake. and trying I tried like frig not to swallow. She was determined though, she was going to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I am, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Mam gathered me in her arms, all contrite. Guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms, cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child. I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking to myself of [who else would have your thoughts?] how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam. My arse was landed back on that draining board in a flash.[cliche] She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with what I can only now describe as [intrusive] a futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable. She saw this, [think of something else, you have used this phrase only  couple of sentences back at the opening of the paragraph.] and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, I was and totally knackered by my exertions and swore on the Bible that I'd never wouldn't ever swear again. She stood in front of me [see comment, 5 boxes back] With her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm, I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly, and sighed, and said quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried me Mam who'd died from Cancer, I was reminded of the taste of that soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me ma's sitting room for her wake. I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question. "Did it work then?  Did she teach you to stop swearing?"

All their eyes were fixed on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer. "Did she, fuck!"

Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 07:04:38 PM
I swear


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.  Mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Ma about my bucket-mouth. Thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. While i was busy showing off, someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Ma had seen through all my lies.  She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised I had never sworn at anyone!
She knew, intuitively the way all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

dragged across the yard to the back steps.  I blubbered and pleaded with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what came next.  My heels thumped on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains.  I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Ma down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Ma meant business because she grabbed the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh Gawd, I was in big trouble.  I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong scary bugger!  Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. Dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Ma mustn't have liked the position I was in because she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were waiting to be washed, until she shoved my head directly under the brass tap.

I fought even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Ma's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat. Her fingernails dug deep into my skin to keep me positioned. I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge.
Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly in our battle, neither of us willing to give in.
She reached over me and turned the tap on. A clunk sounded. I waited as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. A single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved.  Sometimes the water didn't flow, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness froze me where I lay.  I spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Ma to let me go. But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it.
All the while Ma was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I snapped my mouth shut. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.
"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" she shouted, her voice louder in the tight confines of the scullery.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.
"Open. . . your. . . mouth," she repeated slower and quieter and with menace.

I remember defiantly staring at her, but I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still clamped shut, as I tried to dodge the water that still gushed over me.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth,"  She gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth.  The killer-smile. It brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick "Please Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She rubbed and drubbed like wash day on a Monday,  humming some obscure song under her breath. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, turned to slits.
Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather.  After the bar was wedged between my teeth, she put some elbow grease into it. It tasted horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, I tried like frig not to swallow. She was determined to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I could be, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Ma gathered me in her arms, contrite.  Guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam.  My arse landed back on that draining board so fast I was stunned. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable.  She knew she'd made her point, dropped the soap-bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, and totally knackered by my exertions swore on the Bible that I'd  never swear again. With her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly and sighed quietly "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried  Mam, I was reminded of the taste of that soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me Ma's sitting room for her wake.  I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question.
"Did it work then?  Did she teach you to stop swearing?"
All eyes fixed on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer.
"Did she fuck!"
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 07:16:53 PM
Only a single space after a full stop. Okay? ;)


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door, mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. While I was busy showing off, someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies. She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised I had never sworn at anyone!She knew, intuitively the way all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

Dragged across the yard to the back steps, I blubbered and pleaded with her[,] that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what came next. My heels thumped on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh, Gawd, I was in big trouble. I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong scary bugger! Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. Dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were waiting to be washed, until she shoved my head directly under the brass tap.

I fought even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat, her fingernails dug deep into my skin, to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge. Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, in our battle, neither of us willing to give in. She reached over me and turned the tap on. A clunk sounded. I waited as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. A single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved.  Sometimes the water didn't flow, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness froze me where I lay. I spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I snapped my mouth shut. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.

"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" she shouted, her voice louder in the tight confines of the scullery.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.

"Open. . . your. . . mouth," she repeated slower and quieter and with menace.

I remember defiantly staring at her, but I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still clamped shut, as I tried to dodge the water that still gushed over me.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a strange quiet-like voice, [bring the dialogue up beside the speaker] "Brian, open your mouth." She gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. The killer-smile. It brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick, "Please, Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob! Oh,  she could be so quick! I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She rubbed and drubbed like wash day on a Monday, humming some obscure song under her breath. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, turned to slits.

Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather.  After the bar was wedged between my teeth, she put some elbow grease into it. It tasted horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, I tried like frig not to swallow. She was determined to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I could be, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Mam gathered me in her arms, contrite.  Guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam.  My arse landed back on that draining board so fast I was stunned. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable.  She knew she'd made her point, dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, and totally knackered by my exertions,  swore on the Bible that I'd never swear again. With her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly and sighed quietly. "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried  Mam, I was reminded of the taste of that soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me ma's sitting room for her wake.  I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question. "Did it work then?  Did she teach you to stop swearing?"  [keep speech on the line where the speaker is referenced]

All eyes fixed on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer. "Did she fuck!" [same here]
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 7th edit, #90, 1510 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 08:33:36 PM
I think in this instance phil it can be both. the words "died from Cancer" has a finality about it that(Mebbee just to me)

?? Dead is dead, surely.

H3k
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 08:47:57 PM
I suppose youre right and please dont call me "shirley"  ;D
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 08:56:29 PM
Only a single space after a full stop. Okay?

at school I was taught, one space after a comma and two after a full stop


South Shields, 1967. I leaned against our back gate, acting the big man in front of the bloke next door, mouthing off to him and swearing even though he'd already complained a couple of times to Mam about my bucket-mouth.  Repeating all the foul words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, the other kids looked on. They were keen to see what happened next.

I should have realised something bad was coming my way when their eyes widened in shock. While I was busy showing off, someone's hand grabbed my collar, yanked me off my feet, and hauled me through the gate.

Mam had seen through all my lies. She'd known I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised I had never sworn at anyone. She knew, intuitively the way all mothers did, that I lied a lot, so she'd hidden on the other side of the gate and heard my performance.

Dragged across the yard to the back steps, I blubbered and pleaded with her, that I'd be good from then on. I'd have sworn to anything to avoid what came next. My heels thumped on the rickety stairs as the fading light from the back door illuminated the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains. I lost a plimsoll on the way when it snagged on a crack in the stair riser, but that didn't slow Mam down as she hauled me like a sack of spuds into the scruffy scullery.

She'd warned me endlessly she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap. If everyday soap could be categorized as nice and sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing, then Carbolic was the total opposite:  Blocky, rough, smelling of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

I could tell Mam meant business because she took the dirty plates out of the sink and smashed them to the floor in temper.  Oh, Gawd, I was in big trouble. I just stood looking at her, hoping that if I looked dejected enough she'd relent but she didn't. She yanked me by the collar and the seat of my pants. When she had her mad on she could be a strong scary bugger! Then she slammed me onto the damp, smelly drainer, like a butcher slapping a hunk of beef onto a chopping-block. Dampness seeped into my clothes, as my head drooped into the big china sink. Mam mustn't have liked the position I was in because she dragged me further up the drainer, scattering the greasy pans and plates that were waiting to be washed, until she shoved my head directly under the brass tap.

I fought even harder. On the drainer, I struggled and wriggled,trying to shake free of Mam's strong, polished-finger-nailed hand that held me by the throat, her fingernails dug deep into my skin, to keep me positioned and I fought her back despite my struggles to keep my head away from the sink edge. Pans and plates scattered, clattering everywhere as my legs and feet thrashed wildly, in our battle, neither of us willing to give in. She reached over me and turned the tap on. A clunk sounded. I waited as the air was released and I heard the water surging up the pipe. A single drop gathered on the end, and I thought I'd been saved.  Sometimes the water didn't flow, due to low pressure and I thought to myself that this was one of those times. But alas for me, not that day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap, soaking my head and neck. For a brief second the coldness froze me where I lay. I spluttered and spat as I continued to cry and begged Mam to let me go.  But once Mam made up her mind to do something she did it. All the while Mam was shouting at me at the top of her voice, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again, will you?  You f***ing little shite!"

I heard snippets of distant shouts drifting up the stairs.  "Go on Mim, give the little bugger what for!" or "Teach the little bugger a lesson he wont forget!"
 
I snapped my mouth shut. I knew she couldn't shove the soap between my lips if they were closed tight.

"Open up, and this'll go easier on you!" she shouted, her voice louder in the tight confines of the scullery.

At that point, three pit ponies wouldn't have got me to open my gob.

"Open. . . your. . . mouth," she repeated slower and quieter and with menace.

I remember defiantly staring at her, but I had to keep blinking to keep the splashes of water out of my eyes. My lips were still clamped shut, as I tried to dodge the water that still gushed over me.

Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a strange quiet-like voice, [bring the dialogue up beside the speaker]Dont know what you mean by this? "Brian, open your mouth." She gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth. The killer-smile. It brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

I stammered a quick, "Please, Mam," but instantly she jammed the Carbolic Soap into me gob! Oh, she could be so quick! I gagged, I knew for sure I was going to die.  She rubbed and drubbed like wash day on a Monday, humming some obscure song under her breath. Her eyes, normally blue and pretty, turned to slits.

Meanwhile I begged and sobbed and got myself worked up into a lather.  After the bar was wedged between my teeth, she put some elbow grease into it. It tasted horrible, like sucking on a toilet urinal cake, I tried like frig not to swallow. She was determined to teach me a lesson, even if it meant someone reporting her to the National Assistance.

Finally it was over. She stood me on my feet. I, of course, being the devious little git that I could be, wobbled a bit, and looked about to faint. Mam gathered me in her arms, contrite.  Guilt could be a good commodity when you were eight and knew how to wield it. She wrapped me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she felt for inflicting this on her poor child I made a cardinal error. I smiled, thinking how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly reverted to Were-Mam.  My arse landed back on that draining board so fast I was stunned. She had the Carbolic Soap in her hand ready to "wash" me again. I looked on with futile-acceptance of something uncontrollable.  She knew she'd made her point, dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face and told me to get off the drainer myself.  This wasn't easy, there being no stool or chair to climb down, but I eventually managed and stood in front of her.

I hung my head, and totally knackered by my exertions, swore on the Bible that I'd never swear again. With her hands on her hips, her foot constantly tapping its temper-fuelled rhythm.  I knew I could still be in trouble so I said nothing. She shook her head slowly and sighed quietly. "Eee, our Brian, what am I going to do with you?"

In 1993, when we buried  Mam, I was reminded of the taste of that soap in me gob.  We'd gathered in me ma's why is this Ma not capital like the rest? sitting room for her wake.  I told the rest of the family about what she'd done, but me Aunty Syl asked the question. "Did it work then?  Did she teach you to stop swearing?"  [keep speech on the line where the speaker is referenced]at all times? even if it means pressing return and starting a different line?
All eyes fixed on me again as I pondered her question. It didn't take long to answer. "Did she fuck!" [same here]ok, but this is all on one line
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 09:08:41 PM
Ma is the title you give her - so it's capitalised. Same as 'Mother' or 'Fred'. These are proper nouns because they're unique to that particular person. When you addressed her you called her by her title: 'Mam' - not 'me mam'. Right?

Me ma is not capitalised - because it's a normal 'common noun' the same as 'my mother' or 'my cat' or 'my television set'. Everybody has a mother - a television set - and maybe even a cat - so the 'title' is not unique.

A double space after a full stop went out of fashion with ration books.

Dialogue and speaker have to be kept side by side - but separate from what comes before or after - even if you end up pressing the space bar a hundred times.

H
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 09:11:36 PM
*at school I was taught, one space after a comma and two after a full stop
. . . and I would lie to you because? Get with the times, man. ;D ;D ;D

*[bring the dialogue up beside the speaker]Dont know what you mean by this?
In your original the dialogue was on a separate line. Do you not read your own stuff to compare the suggestions?
Quote
Then she leaned down, got right in my face, until we were practically nose to nose and she repeated in a strange quiet-like voice,
"Brian, open your mouth,"  She gave me one of those rictus-smiles where I knew she was also gritting her teeth.  The killer-smile. It brooked no more arguments, no resistance, no bullshit. This kind of calm command had to be obeyed, or woe betide anyone. I knew then it was no good. I had to give in or it would be worse for me.

*We'd gathered in me ma's why is this Ma not capital like the rest?
I explained this before. When you use the name as a title Sir, Mr, Ma, Mrs etc it gets a capital letter because it's a proper noun [specific name of something/person/place] but when you talk about your ma/mother -- it's just a generic, common noun and doesn't get any special treatment. EG
My wonderful ma is a great wee cook. [common noun]
Whenever Ma cooks, everyone comes running. [Ma: used as a name for my mother -- proper noun]
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 09:17:00 PM
The naughty step beckons.

H
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 09:18:50 PM
Frustration dances.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 09:19:31 PM
oh right I see now, i got that off both of you. Did you like where i fleshed out open ya gob(parafrasin) ya little shite, she said "quieter and with more menace?" Plus you know at the end of it and she's feelin all contrite, would the tense sound better as with "contrition", and the word ashamed, could that be better as "shamedfully?" Just little things I think, not really important enough to change if you disagree.b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 09:21:43 PM
naughty step, why? oh the "shirley?" er ha ha? ;D
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 09:28:42 PM
I'm too weary to track this right through to its final transformation. I have made 22 replies -- most of them as full crits and read every comment from other posters. 8 edits means having read at least 8 x 1,372 words [approx] plus the 166 boxes of comments over 8 pages.

I also spent a long time trying to help with the pits piece -- I need a break. :-\
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 09:35:27 PM
sorry shvon I didnt mean to take up all your time, mebbee you just need a break from me, I understand, its ok. I too am gettin weary for me poor ma draggin me sorry ass up them friggin steps again and again! ;D
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 09:46:03 PM
The naughty step was a reference to 510 reaching the end of her tether.  ;D

And here I am as well after a late return home from more first-footing, desperate for my bed, and you're keeping me up. Mutter, mutter, mutter. . .

Quote
Did you like where i fleshed out open ya gob(parafrasin) ya little shite, she said "quieter and with more menace?"

No - because it's grammatically incorrect. 'quieter' is an adjective used to describe a noun - like 'a quieter sound' but you're actually describing a verb 'said' so it should be an adverb - 'more quietly'.

Quote
Plus you know at the end of it and she's feelin all contrite, would the tense sound better as with "contrition"

Ma gathered me in her arms, contrite.
Again, it's not a proper sentence - it's like writing 'I walked up the road, quick'. We have no idea what 'contrite' is linked to because it's another adjective without a noun (unless you're saying her arms were contrite'). Personally I don't see the need for a 'telling' adjective like contrite anyway. We assume the act of gathering you in her arms showed contrition.

As for your use of the word 'tense' - I'm not sure you have a proper grasp of its meaning.
It usually refers to the 'state' of a verb
- present tense 'I walk'
- future tense 'I will walk'
- past tense 'I walked'.
An adjective like 'warm' or 'cold' or 'contrite' can't have a tense.

Quote
and the word ashamed, could that be better as "shamedfully?"

'ashamed' is another adjective - 'shame(d)fully' is an adverb
Since neither word appears in your story I'm assuming you're referring to this part:
. . .looked at me with a little discomfort and possibly shame on her face. . .
It's awkward.
'a little discomfort, possibly shame' is the better option since you're prefacing it with 'with' - so 'with a little discomfort' and 'with possibly shame' is what's implied.
The second option 'looked at me with a little discomfort' and 'looked at me shamefacedly' is just as correct but a much more convoluted way of describing the same scene. Always pick the simpler option whenever possible.

Now it's z-time.

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 09:51:58 PM
oh right gotcha. same for you as well phil I know I've taken up a lot of your valuable time over these last few weeks, While I do appreciate you doin it, I cant take you away all the time from your other work, so I'll understand if you too want a break from me now. Thanks as always. b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 02, 2013, 09:58:35 PM
It's not a case of taking up my time. You need perhaps to reflect on the feedback then rejig your work then let it lie a while before reposting and asking for a fresh response.

And if you rely on others too much, you sort of stop thinking for yourself and your personal work ends up being a group effort. Not what you're looking for on here, I'm sure.

P
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 10:04:21 PM
spot on, I still look for my voice even after advice from you, so far I've been lucky with the adv off yous all, it still has my "feel" to it, If it didn't I'd be looking at it with more critical eyes than yours mate. But I will look at all me work at another fresher time. Am off tuh bed, been workin here for most of the day and am like that little boy after fightin his ma over soap! ha ha, Knackered! gnight mate. b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: 510bhan on January 02, 2013, 10:07:46 PM
Take heed of what Phil says . . . it's great that you're keen to improve, but it is incredibly frustrating when you ignore [either through oversight or rushing] suggestions to CORRECT issues. Regardless of style, voice etc, the corrections -- for punctuation, spelling and grammar issues, SPaGs, must be observed. The suggestions for tweaking and rephrasing can of course be actively ignored, they are just opinions after all. Sometimes the suggestions are limited, and might sound strange to you because most people commenting try to stay with the words supplied, but it doesn't always work if they are totally befuddled by punctuation or grammar issues muddying the water.

Take some time to get to grips with the parts of speech and complete a few of the exercises online to familiarise yourself with them so you can make better word choices and phrase expressions to suit your intention. Use Pro Writing Aid to pick up repeat words and phrases, sticky sentences, diction issues or overused words -- that will help you see things through an independent eye and with your new knowledge you can make the call about how you might amend any problem areas without relying on the input of a 'committee'. ;) ;)
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 02, 2013, 10:19:05 PM
 ;D ok ok shvon! I definitely think I'm gettin me arse slapped now! ;D

I wasn't kiddin when I say, I forget things cos it happens every day, I forgot about the exercises you just mentioned, you sent em to me when I/we were doin the wagons didnt ya? Ive wrote down a reminder to go look at them tomorrow, ok? I hear what youre both sayin to me and Ive wrote them down as well, so i wont forget them either. Am off to bed, knackered now, see you's tomorrow/today.  I HAVE learned off yous, dont think i dont know that, and yous have seen an improvement, now I'll try it for myself. Thanks again, gnight. b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: swimmer1948 on January 03, 2013, 12:12:56 AM
This is a two-part story, this is the first part, I'm busy on the second as of now. I'd like your opinion of this so far. I've used all the good advice given by everyone here of show, not tell, and I think its good(but then, I am biased)

I swear (part 1)


I was eight years old when I was taught a valuable lesson by my Mother.  She taught me not to swear, because it "wasn't nice". The only lesson I learned that day was how to "swear, and not get caught!"

South Shields in 1967, I'm leaning against our wooden gate, in the back lane, swearing my head off to the bloke next door, who had already complained a couple of times to mam about my bucket-gob. [What is that, Brian?  A britishism?] I'm repeating all the words I'd heard recently, thinking I was so big and clever, whilst the other kids were looking on with their mouths open in a big 'oh', waiting expectantly to see what happened next.
  
I should have got a clue when the 'ohs' turned into 'ahs' and their eyes lit up in gleeful anticipation. I felt a vice-like grip on my collar and I was yanked off my feet, and went sailing back through the gate at an alarming rate!  Mam had sent me out, knowing I'd swear again, because I'd repeatedly promised her that I'd NEVER EVER sworn at anyone! She knew, in that intuitive way that all mothers do, that I was lying through my back teeth, so she'd set me up by standing hidden on the other side of the gate!
  
I was now being dragged backwards across the yard, past the coal-house and to the back steps, blubbering and pleading with her that I'd "be good and I'd live a chaste, decent law-abiding life, from then on!"  [Why not use real words and real dialogue rather than interpreting it with grown-up language?] But soon my heels were thumping on the rickety stairs, all I could see were the cobwebs in the roof amid the dirt and stains, and the fast retreating light from the back door down below. She hauled me like a sack of spuds up the stairs.  We then got to the top and into the scullery, which to me had turned into my own personal torture chamber.  

She'd warned me time and time again that if she ever caught me swearing, she'd wash my mouth out with Carbolic Soap.
If everyday soap could be categorized as "nice, sweet, soft and gentle, perfumed and refreshing"  Then [no caps for "then" and comma after "refreshing.] Carbolic was the total opposite.  It was blocky, rough, smelled of disinfectant, lather-less, industrial cleaner, and generally horrible. Carbolic was the skinhead of soaps, and I was about to have a meal of it!

This is a nice description of that horrid treatment - got it myself  couple times, but not with Carbolic.

Have you ever been in a proper Butcher's and he slaps a side of beef on the chopping block with a thump with one hand, whilst raising a meat-cleaver up in the air with the other ready to swish down, sinking the blade into the waiting flesh?  Well now you get the picture of what mam did to me on that day.

I'm now on the draining board, struggling and wriggling, Mam's got a strong, polished-finger-nailed hand holding me by the throat. I can see the upside-down view of the greasy plates in the sink. There's pans and plates being scattered, clattering everywhere by my wildly kicking legs.  She turns the brass tap on, there's a clunking noise as the air is released and I can hear the water approaching up the pipe.  A single drop of water gathers on the end of the tap, and I think I'm saved, [sometimes the water just didn't flow, and I remember thinking to myself that this was one of those days]. But alas, not this day!

The treacherous water gushed out of the tap soaking my head and neck.  I was now spluttering and spitting as I still begged mam to let me go.  But once mam made up her mind to do something, she did it! "Oh Gawd did she do it!"
The ironic thing is, whilst all this was going on, mam was shouting at me, "I'll teach you to f***ing swear you little bas***d! You won't f***ing swear again! Will you? you f***ing little shite!". . . .Back to the torture.

This is good, a perfect example of "do as I say, not as I do."

I jammed my mouth closed with a snap.
"Open your mouth, and this'll go easier on you!" shouted mam. At this point, a team of wild horses wouldn't get me to open my mouth. This is a cliche.  You can do better.
"Open your mouth" she repeats.  It's a staring match now, my mouth is still wedged shut, but I'm trying to dodge the water still gushing out of the tap and God, it's cold!
  
Then she leans down, gets right in my face, practically nose to nose and repeats in a really strange quiet-like, whisper, "Brian, open your mouth", and she's smiling.  I'm shittin myself now!  Anyone who's experienced a stern-loving mother like this will know exactly what I'm talking about. This kind of command has to be obeyed, or woe betide you!
I stammer a quick "Please mam", and in that instant of begging, she jams the carbolic soap into me gob!  Oh she could be so quick!  She's now rubbing and drubbing like its wash day on a monday, she's singing some obscure little song. Meanwhile I'm begging and sobbing and getting myself worked up into a lather(no pun intended) really feeling sorry for myself.  The bar is wedged into my teeth, she's really putting some 'elbow grease' into it!  She was so thorough and resolute!

Finally, its over.  She stands me on my feet, of course being the devious little git that I am, I wobble a bit, look as if I'm goint to faint, and mam wraps me in her arms, acting all contrite, [guilt can be a good commodity when youre eight and know how to wield it!]  As she wraps me in her arms cooing to me and telling herself what a horrible person she is for inflicting this on her poor child, I made a cardinal error, and smiled, thinking to myself of how I could turn this to my advantage?

She saw this and instantly she was back to Jeckyll-mam, my arse was back on the draining board in a flash!  She had the carbolic soap in her hand raised up ready to "wash" me again!  I just looked on with what I can only describe now as futile-acceptance of something I had no control over.  She saw this, and slowly dropped the bar onto the floor, looked at me with a little discomfort on her lovely face and told me to get off the drainer.

This wasn't so easy with my little legs and no stool to climb down.  But I eventually struggled off and stood before her.  "Now", she said. "Will you ever swear again?"  I hung my head down and swore on the bible that I wouldn't.  She's standing in front of me with her hands on her hips and tapping her foot, I knew I could still be in trouble, at this sign.  She sighed and said under her breath, shaking her head slowly from side to side, "Eee, our brian, what am I going to do with you?"  I just hoped it wasn't anymore of what had just happened.  She then sent me to my room, without supper.
I'd like to say at the end here that I learned my lesson that day. But I'd be lying, cos I still swore, I just never put myself in the position of letting mam hear me!  

I can't say much in criticism.  This is a nice little vignette and very well-described.  I just wonder where you're going with this.  I am eager to read part two.  Joe
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: protekme on January 03, 2013, 12:37:53 AM
As you have once told me, Bri, you cannot always listen to everybody. You have to know what to take and what to reject, and I believe you do. You have a particular style and flavor, which everybody seems to appreciate. The main problems with your story are the grammar, punctuation, repetition, verb forms, structure: in other words, writing lessons would be helpful. Forum help won’t always be there for you. It’s too bad because you have a very, simple, interesting way of presenting your story. You reach a certain audience, just as I can only reach a certain audience. And that’s okay. But it has to be presentable. All the above suggestions are a “must”. Otherwise it looks as if an 8-year old is writing it.
 
There are so many ways to write a story. And there is ALWAYS room for improvement. Even for the best writers. So the task is even harder for the inexperienced.

Ex.: We all heard about “show and not tell”. IMO That can be exaggerated, because everyone has a different idea. Someone even suggested to you as an example: “chewing gum and eyeballing the bloke next door,” instead of writing: “acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.” You could also say “smoking a cigarette in front of the bloke next door.” Wow! How shocking for an 8yr-old kid. There is nothing wrong with either; it is just a matter of taste. You show already with the swearing, which is the main attraction—something added could be distracting.  According to my interpretation, I can well imagine what “acting the big man” means. Every one will have a different view on that one. I believe in leaving something for the reader’s imagination. It’s more fun.

That is your story. If you listen to everybody, you write for nobody at the end, and then all the similar stories would have the same technique. You would be robbed of your “talent and your imagination”. Don’t let that happen.

I don’t understand all the words and expressions in your text, but I laughed because I have enough imagination to read between the lines and to see the scene. This is your dialect and I like it. The improvement (with all the corrections) is very good. It could always be better. If a publisher won’t take you, there is ebook nowadays. To me, it is satisfaction enough. What about you? Are you aiming BIG?

P.S. I regret you did not have time to comment on my read yet. I know you’re busy with yours.  If you get to it, don’t read all the other comments before. Leave your mind open. I’d like your opinion without any influence.

Just my 5cents.

Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: swimmer1948 on January 03, 2013, 12:47:14 AM
I liked Brian's story too and overlooked the dialect usages because it is part of his voice.  But as you say everyone needs improvement.  I taught writing (among other things) for about 30 years and still need help in writing suggestions.  I did all my comments by hand so I'm not used to using the strike-throughs and other HTML shortcuts.   I hope I will figure it out.  Sorry if this is off topic.  I'm having trouble with everything, including posting.  Your comments were gentle but to the point, which is what I think we all need to be.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: junel on January 03, 2013, 01:24:41 AM
Ex.: We all heard about “show and not tell”. IMO That can be exaggerated, because everyone has a different idea. Someone even suggested to you as an example: “chewing gum and eyeballing the bloke next door,” instead of writing: “acting the big man in front of the bloke next door.” You could also say “smoking a cigarette in front of the bloke next door.” Wow! How shocking for an 8yr-old kid. There is nothing wrong with either; it is just a matter of taste. You show already with the swearing, which is the main attraction—something added could be distracting.  According to my interpretation, I can well imagine what “acting the big man” means. Every one will have a different view on that one. I believe in leaving something for the reader’s imagination. It’s more fun.

Quite bizarre how I think the opposite of you, protekme.

See, when I read "acting the big man in front of the bloke next door." I ask myself, how exactly? I want to be given an image! Otherwise I consider it lazy writing or the work of a beginning writer who hasn't learnt to show yet.

You're right in saying the reader can imagine the character "acting the big man", and each reader will have their own visual. But I don't want the story to tell me the images, I want the images to tell me the story, to show me the story. I want the story to be the subtext of the images I'm given.

Think of an iconic image that tells a story without words, much like that.

My suggestion takes nothing away from the reader, they can still fill in the look in the character's eyes, a Clint Eastwood furrow? How his arms are positioned? If he has one leg on the ground and the other pushing against the gate? etc, etc . . .

Junal.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: Dawn on January 03, 2013, 03:31:14 AM
Brian, may I suggest you now print out all the comments and crits (only so you don't forget ;)) and do as Gyppo often advises. Place it in your top drawer for a few weeks. Then when you look again you will have fresh eyes.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 03, 2013, 06:39:47 AM
mornin, Dawn. I usually print out the first and last of the piece I'm working on. I didnt know we could print out the crits as well, but I think I'd be confused by em all, cos as you can see theres a lot of em! ha ha.
 
to Protek.
I look impartially at everyones work. If I like something and the rest of the population of MWC don't, I still tell if I like. I generally swim against tides anyway.

To Junal.
 I have to find a balance between show, with a little bit of tell and still retain my voice, so it not only looks good to me, but still has enough "meat" to appeal to strangers reading my stuff for the first time. I'm not really thinking "big" at the minute cos there's so much I don't know, and there's far too many authors out there who need to publish more than I do, hope this answers some of your queries. Thanks all.
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 03, 2013, 07:32:52 AM
Hi bri,

Not to appear sexist, but your approach to this piece reminds me of how some women buy clothes. They go to several shops and try on every dress but can't make their minds up which one they like best. After a while they often end up going back to one of the shops they visited earlier without realising it - and finish up trying on the same outfits again without noticing what they're doing.

When you keep redrafting (off the cuff, judging by the speed with which you do that) and reposting the same story, the new edition becomes a bit of a blur to the reader who's seen several versions - and quite possibly to you who fixes one problem only to recommit a previous one.

It might seem a difficult thing to do, but like home-brew, you have to set writing aside to let it ferment and allow your subconscious to work in the background looking at ways the story could be improved using your own ideas. It's surprising how a story can be rejuvenated when you read it again a couple of weeks later and realise what doesn't work, but also discover you know exactly which new changes will add a little polish and a more personal touch. Editing is as important as writing - but you can't do both at the same time in my experience.

H3K
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 03, 2013, 07:52:10 AM
hiya phil, it seems to me that I have to take a break from writing and do a bit of learning. I'm gonna go look at some of the exercises that shvon posted to me ages ago, I have to learn what you all take for granted. Does that make sense to you?  I'm doing precisely what youre accusing me of. I'm working on the threads one step at a time instead of doing it off them as you all do, but its me memory thingy, its shite, I'm losing brain cells as we're speaking, it seems anyway ;D. Me spellings ok, but I have to work on me puncts, tenses, and grammar I think? Can you think of any more things I have to work on?  Or is there a couple a months work there already? Cheers. b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 03, 2013, 08:06:17 AM
Two things

- read as much as you can: short stories, novels, whatever takes your fancy. But you should aim to spend 3 hours reading for every half hour you spend actually writing. It gives you a better idea of how other writers craft a story - and also you will soon be able to spot the good writers from the naff.

- write something new every day. It doesn't mean you have to post it on here, and it can be complete crap - the first thing that comes into your head. But it exercises your writing muscle and also clears all the garbage out of your subconscious allowing more original material to bubble to the surface.

Although 'classroom exercises' can help polish up certain aspects of your writing, this ^^ is the only way to learn to write in my opinion. Punctuation is just a case of getting rid of bad habits. Controlling tenses and improving grammar will come from reading and trial-and-error writing.

Did you think you'd have come as far in your writing two months ago? Would you have achieved the same if you'd sat there doing 'homework' instead of jumping in with both feet into this shark-infested paddling pool? I doubt it. You'd have got bored senseless and given up on the idea of becoming a proper writer - i.e. one who other people outside your immediate circle are prepared to read.

H3K

-
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 03, 2013, 08:31:13 AM
hey mate, I actually do read every day, just fiction. But I do crit authors I'm reading, sometimes I fall out of the book and crit instead of following the plot! I'm reading this book at the min called "The bones of Avignon" by Jefferson Bass, who it seems are two authors, and to me, theyre both shite, cos they started with a great premise of supposedly Jesus' bones possibly found(I know, say nowt! ha ha) But after the first few great pages of lightning words, its petered out a bit and segued into a connection with the Shroud of Turin! I'm sticking with it but am so tempted to throw it at the wall, somebody used a great expression on here about that, but I can't remember it?  I liked Clive Cussler when I was new to the genre, but now you can sum all his books up with "archeology, black ops and end with archeology", with a few fem fatales, who like james bond never ses no to his Characters!  Boring! So to get back to the point, I crit as well as read now, I study their techniques and see if mine come up to the same. Bad as these stories are, they still have more tecchie ability than mine, so I need to learn. I've found over the years that Anne McCaffreys books like any Stephen King's grab you by the balls from the first page and hold you while you run with them, till you get the end and leave you sayin "Please Sir/Ma'am, I want more!", thats the kinda writer I want to be.
To end, I've noticed in a couple of instances of your text that you use ^^ a lot. Does this have any significance? or is it just your way of highlighting something?  b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 03, 2013, 08:43:11 AM
^^ are arrows pointing to what's been written above.  ;D

H
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 03, 2013, 08:46:25 AM
Although 'classroom exercises' can help polish up certain aspects of your writing, this ^^ is the only way to learn to write in my opinion. Punctuation is just a case of getting rid of bad habits. Controlling tenses and improving grammar will come from reading and trial-and-error writing.

I don't know what the sign means, is it deliberate as its pointing up to the above sentence? or is it just a highlight you use? b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: hillwalker3000 on January 03, 2013, 09:08:10 AM
The only way to learn is to - read and - write each day. The 'Two things' I wrote above (^^) that third paragraph.

H
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 03, 2013, 09:11:15 AM
oh, I see, cheers then, b
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: Pale Writer on January 04, 2013, 04:28:28 PM
Hello Brian

I am unsure where you are with this piece. I see you have a few comments but will voice one of mine.  Your beginning is passive.  I do not believe this is a good thing to do.  That is not to say that the words have to be removed, but, I think you could start off right away with your mam catching you by the collar after your burst of cursing. 

The reason I say this is because the logical turn of events would be as such. First comes the act and then the reaction. Whenever I see a story starting with 'was' or an explanation prior to the knowledge of what, I wonder why.

You could use the first section after, in fact I believe it would follow the natural time flow. You mentioned this is your 8th edit.  Well done, but don't get too stuck on this section, write on. Finish first. As it develops so do your characters, plot, etc. When you go back, things that seemed fine can often change. This is the time to look at sequencing.

As I mentioned I do not know where you are in this piece, but I hope you reconsider your opening sequence.

Thank you

Pale
Title: Re: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word
Post by: bri h on January 04, 2013, 04:57:00 PM
Hiya Pale, thanks for taking the time with this and critting it. I've done with it for the time being. On the good advice of others on this wonderful site, I've been persuaded to stop editing old stuff and work on new things. I'm guilty I'm afraid, of making a lot of mistakes and compounding them by doing edits and re-posts almost straight away. I have something wrong with me memory and I forget things. i'm not lazy or owt, I just have to write things down or risk forgetting, like I did with most of my pieces, so I don't blame any of the guys for adv me to leave off for a while. As I've said here enough times, I actually thought I had a good education in matters of English Lit, it wasn't until I came here that I found out I haven't. I need now, to get a better education then come back, and post. I'll keep going in diff writing projects but try my best not to post until I'm at least reasonably sure I have the techie ability to do so. I have great contentIMO to write, but no real techie ability to get it across the page properly or accurately, thanks again. Bri.

modifyer, sorry meant to say, I'll look at taking the first para out or just changing it around. b