Author Topic: Title to be confirmed 708 words adult fiction.  (Read 2255 times)

Offline 510bhan

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #15 on: February 06, 2012, 03:59:07 PM »
The counsellor reached for the phone on the table. ;D Why do you think it is a problem?

If your MC can see it -- that's fine. She's still in the room isn't she? ;)
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Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #16 on: February 06, 2012, 04:25:42 PM »
I'm not sure Sio. I think I was over thinking ;D
It just seemed strange the counsellor walked over to a table which the reader didn't know there was a telephone on it.  See over thinking ;)
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Offline 510bhan

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #17 on: February 06, 2012, 04:39:36 PM »
Easily done ;D ;D ;D

But think about it -- you don't let us see every breath the counsellor takes so we know she's still alive, do you?

If they had been in a tent on the middle of the moors it might be implausible and need a mention/explanation, but in a normal office/ consulting room environment, I don't think it would be out of place, so can be taken as read. ;)
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Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #18 on: February 06, 2012, 04:47:09 PM »
Thanks Sio, good point. :D
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Sam Cooper

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #19 on: February 06, 2012, 05:16:29 PM »
This:

Quote
Rebecca took a sharp intake of breath, comfied herself in the chair and began.
“We'd tried for a while, and it just wasn't happening.” She swallowed a lump forming in her throat.  “Then one month,” she said, staring at the window.  White vertical blinds obscured the daylight. ”One month, I was late. I remember holding the test in my hands, shaking, smiling, running to show Johnny. Our dreams had come true. We were finally going to have a baby. Everything would be okay.

and this:

Quote
It was a Friday, teatime. I was making Johnny's favourite.” She closed her eyes, searching for the confidence to go on. She swallowed again, her throat tight and closed.

These two sections seemed to me to conflict characterisations of your mc. You mentioned you wanted her angry, not wanting to be there, her opinion of office paintings/counsellor's chair, legs, blinds - all painted a different picture of her to  me which suited more the final outburst.

Your first sentence. Why only 'think' why not more finite? When did you break?

Anyway. It feels like Friday to me, which probably shorts out my logic card. :)

I like your mc.

Sam

P.S.  - The counsellor made a call. This way you don't need to state where the phone was. Hard to say.




Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #20 on: February 06, 2012, 05:36:47 PM »
Thanks Sam,

Do you mean because she has spirit, that she isn't broken? ???

Sorry not sure I understand.
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Sam Cooper

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #21 on: February 06, 2012, 05:58:42 PM »
Well spirit and broken, something like that. Her attitude -  'the baby' - not 'my/our baby' How her mind drifts but still it's always about her. So the deep breath felt off - I almost consider this an act, but it doesn't work out because of that nervous side showing.

This could be all in my mind. Others can and may/will disagree. Critiques are a collection of minds. :)

Offline Katinka

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #22 on: February 06, 2012, 06:57:32 PM »
icture of a man walking his dog in a large wooden frame, hung crooked on the wall. (She sneered.) (Was she very angry? ) 'How come they always have paintings like this in these places?"

The counsellor, shook her head and scribbled something down, crossing her legs POV (uncomfortably0  on the green leather bound chair.

Rebecca (Inhaled sharply?) took a sharp intake of breath, (Don't know that word)(comfied) herself. “We( delete?'d) tried for a while, and it just wasn't happening.” She swallowed a lump (That had)form(ed)ing in her throat.  “Then one month,” she said, staring absentmindedly at the window.  White vertical blinds obscured the daylight. ”One month, I was late. I remember holding the test in my hands, shaking, smiling, running to show Johnny. Our dreams had come true We were finally going to have a baby. Everything was going to be okay."

The counsellor made a note on the white lined (delete A4) (Notepad?) paper on her knee. She pushed her glasses (awkward(onto the rim of her nose,) “Then what happened," she enquired.

Rebecca studied the floor, flexing her hands tightly, looking for the words. “It was a Friday, teatime. I was making Johnny's favourite.” She closed her eyes, searching for the confidence to go on. She swallowed again, her throat tight and closed. "He rang to say he was working late again." (too much description, it doesn't draw me closer.) She paused, eyes glazing over. "We argued, I said I'd had enough, and I was...
"Go on," the counsellor urged.
"I was going to leave " Rebecca's eyes welled up as she remembered the night. "I slammed the phone down and went upstairs to pack, but I missed my footing."
The counsellor lean(ed)t forward on the dark-green chair. (rambling)(They reminded Rebecca of chairs in an old people's home, the ones that smelt of an inconspicuous smell something indeterminable. Stale, and ...)

"I lost it," she shouted out abruptly, "I lost the blocked baby."
Rebecca got up and walked over to the window. She couldn't breathe. She felt hemmed in.
“What's with these sodding blinds?” She said as she tried to part them with her hand, trying to find the world outside the four walls.
“Would you like some water Rebecca?”
“No I don't want any blocked water. I want to go home, when can I go home? I can't breathe in here, there's no air,” she said pulling at the cord, desperately trying to open the blinds, to find life.
“Rebecca, this will do you no good, come and sit down,”
“I just want to go home,” she said her tone now pleading with the counsellor. Pulling at the sleeve of her top she began to scratch furiously at her arm, clawing and embedding her nails deep into her pale skin, drawing blood.
The counsellor got up and walked over to the desk where the phone was. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She waited for a second for someone to answer.
“Can someone come to 14b please, Mrs Adams is getting very distressed. She needs to go back now,” she said and replaced the handset.

Good story.  suggestions are JMO

Max_with_word_processor

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #23 on: February 06, 2012, 07:53:52 PM »

Suggestion for your handset line:

The counsellor stood and hurried to her desk. She reached for the phone and dialed. "Orderly to 14b, immediately." Replacing the handset, she turned back to Rebecca. .


Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #24 on: February 07, 2012, 04:10:05 AM »
Well spirit and broken, something like that. Her attitude -  'the baby' - not 'my/our baby' How her mind drifts but still it's always about her. So the deep breath felt off - I almost consider this an act, but it doesn't work out because of that nervous side showing.

This could be all in my mind. Others can and may/will disagree. Critiques are a collection of minds. :)

Hi Sam,

hmmmmm kind of. She is angry at her husband. She has desperately wanted a baby for so long. She has lost sight of what it actually means, she would rather have a baby than her relationship. She is not in a good place really and has become fixated on the situation. All will become clear. ;)
However, I do perhaps need to make this clearer earlier on.
Time to take it serious and get the job done

Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #25 on: February 07, 2012, 04:11:04 AM »
icture of a man walking his dog in a large wooden frame, hung crooked on the wall. (She sneered.) (Was she very angry? ) 'How come they always have paintings like this in these places?"

The counsellor, shook her head and scribbled something down, crossing her legs POV (uncomfortably0  on the green leather bound chair.

Rebecca (Inhaled sharply?) took a sharp intake of breath, (Don't know that word)(comfied) herself. “We( delete?'d) tried for a while, and it just wasn't happening.” She swallowed a lump (That had)form(ed)ing in her throat.  “Then one month,” she said, staring absentmindedly at the window.  White vertical blinds obscured the daylight. ”One month, I was late. I remember holding the test in my hands, shaking, smiling, running to show Johnny. Our dreams had come true We were finally going to have a baby. Everything was going to be okay."

The counsellor made a note on the white lined (delete A4) (Notepad?) paper on her knee. She pushed her glasses (awkward(onto the rim of her nose,) “Then what happened," she enquired.

Rebecca studied the floor, flexing her hands tightly, looking for the words. “It was a Friday, teatime. I was making Johnny's favourite.” She closed her eyes, searching for the confidence to go on. She swallowed again, her throat tight and closed. "He rang to say he was working late again." (too much description, it doesn't draw me closer.) She paused, eyes glazing over. "We argued, I said I'd had enough, and I was...
"Go on," the counsellor urged.
"I was going to leave " Rebecca's eyes welled up as she remembered the night. "I slammed the phone down and went upstairs to pack, but I missed my footing."
The counsellor lean(ed)t forward on the dark-green chair. (rambling)(They reminded Rebecca of chairs in an old people's home, the ones that smelt of an inconspicuous smell something indeterminable. Stale, and ...)

"I lost it," she shouted out abruptly, "I lost the blocked baby."
Rebecca got up and walked over to the window. She couldn't breathe. She felt hemmed in.
“What's with these sodding blinds?” She said as she tried to part them with her hand, trying to find the world outside the four walls.
“Would you like some water Rebecca?”
“No I don't want any blocked water. I want to go home, when can I go home? I can't breathe in here, there's no air,” she said pulling at the cord, desperately trying to open the blinds, to find life.
“Rebecca, this will do you no good, come and sit down,”
“I just want to go home,” she said her tone now pleading with the counsellor. Pulling at the sleeve of her top she began to scratch furiously at her arm, clawing and embedding her nails deep into her pale skin, drawing blood.
The counsellor got up and walked over to the desk where the phone was. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She waited for a second for someone to answer.
“Can someone come to 14b please, Mrs Adams is getting very distressed. She needs to go back now,” she said and replaced the handset.

Good story.  suggestions are JMO


Thanks Katinka.
Yes you are right, perhaps sneered is the wrong word and agree with your other suggestions. Off to correct them. Thanks
Time to take it serious and get the job done

Offline Dawn

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Re: Our House. 270 words approx, ****** reworked******advice needed please
« Reply #26 on: February 07, 2012, 04:11:56 AM »
Suggestion for your handset line:

The counsellor stood and hurried to her desk. She reached for the phone and dialed. "Orderly to 14b, immediately." Replacing the handset, she turned back to Rebecca. .



Thanks Max.
That is so much better than I had.  Off to change it now.
Time to take it serious and get the job done

Offline Dawn

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Title to be confirmed 708 words adult fiction.
« Reply #27 on: February 08, 2012, 07:54:30 AM »
Would somebody please check and see if this is from the MC point of view? Is it consistent?

Thanks
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Offline 510bhan

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Re: Title to be confirmed 708 words adult fiction.
« Reply #28 on: February 09, 2012, 01:05:45 PM »
I have modified this to include people's suggestions. Critiques more than welcome.

"So why do you think you reached breaking point, Rebecca?"

Rebecca glanced around the room searching for the words. A picture of a man walking his dog in a large wooden frame, hung crooked on the wall. “How come they always have paintings like this in these places?" She said she asked [no cap required for the speech tag after a dialogue question] turning her attention to the counsellor. She couldn't get passed past the fact that it wasn't in order, it should have been straight 'why was it not blocked straight?' She fixated on the picture wanting to get up and move it, she had compelled to make everything right.

The counsellor, shook her head, her immaculate bun remained rigid not daring to move. [how can your MC , or anybody, know what a bun would dare to do?] She scribbled something down. Crossing her legs, Rebecca thought she looked uncomfortable on the green leatherbound chair. The counsellor pulled down her grey pin stripe skirt. Rebecca noticed a run in one of her stockings and watched as the lady, of about 35 years old, tucked her leg behind the other. Her perfume was 'strong and vulgar.'  Rebecca noted. Feeling nauseous.

Rebecca took a sharp intake of breath. “We'd tried for a while, and it just wasn't happening.” She swallowed a lump forming in her throat.  Staring absent-mindedly at the window, she began. “Then one month --she said, staring absent-mindedly at the window.  White vertical blinds obscured the daylight. A pot plant which had seen better days was wilting. 'Lack of sunlight,' she thought as she picked off one of it's dying leaves. ”One month, I was late. I remember holding the test in my hands, shaking, smiling, running to show Johnny. Our dreams had come true. We were finally going to have a baby. Everything was going to be okay."

The counsellor made a note on the white lined paper on the clipboard. She pushed her glasses onto the rim of her nose. “Then what happened?" she enquired.  A patient's scream, interrupted them, echoing down the halls. She glanced at her watch. 'Time was always an issue in this place,' thought Rebecca.
Rebecca studied the floor, vinyl speckled and sanitary, flexing her hands tightly, twisting her gold wedding ring again and again, looking for the words. “It was a Friday, teatime. I was making Johnny's favourite.” She closed her eyes and swallowed again, her throat tight and closed. "He rang to say he was working late, he was always working late." She paused, eyes glazing over. "We argued, I said I'd had enough, and I was...
"Go on," the counsellor urged.
"I was going to leave." Rebecca's eyes welled up as she remembered the night. "I slammed the phone down and went upstairs to pack, but I missed my footing."
The counsellor leant forward on the dark-green chair. They reminded Rebecca of chairs in an old people's home, the ones that smelt of an inconspicuous smell something indeterminable. Stale, and ...

"I lost it," she shouted out abruptly, "I lost the blocked baby."
Rebecca got up, smoothed her white sweatpants down and walked over to the window. She couldn't breathe, she felt hemmed in. She tugged on the neckline of her white Tshirt, a cheap polyester patient issued to all of the patients. 'Glenmore Physciatric unit, spared no expense,' she thought as the garment made her skin crawl.
“What's with these sodding blinds?” she said as she tried to part them with her hand, trying to find the world outside the four walls.
“Would you like some water Rebecca?”
“No I don't want any blocked water, I want to go home. When can I go home? I can't breathe in here, there's no air,” she said pulling at the cord, desperately trying to open the blinds and escape.
“Rebecca, this will do you no good, come and sit down.
“I just want to go home,” she said her tone now pleading with the counsellor. Pulling at the sleeve of her top she began to scratch furiously at her arm, clawing and embedding her nails deep into her pale skin, drawing blood. The pain felt good.
 The counsellor stood and hurried to her desk. She reached for the phone and dialled. "Orderly to 14b, immediately." Replacing the handset, she turned back to Rebecca, who was now slumped on the floor sobbing, blood seeping trickling [seeping goes into something, like clothing]down her arms. 'How could he do this to her, leave her here on her own' “How could he do this?”
The counsellor gingerly walked over to her side and tried to help her up.
“Get off me, don't you touch me. I've heard the stories in here, leave me the hell alone,” she said flying in a sudden rage at the counsellor. “Who the hell do you think you are?” She grabbed said grabbing the lady by the throat and thrusting her against the wall. Rebecca watched as the counsellor's colour began to drain from her 'pretty pretty' face.

Two burly men dressed all in white crashed through the doors. “Now now Rebecca, come on, you don't want to hurt Miss Hartnell.”
“Fuck off,” she spat. “I know your game. I've heard the stories, everyone in here knows what your game is.”
The counsellor's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she spluttered as Rebecca tightened her grip.  'You don't look very pretty now, do you?' thought Rebecca with a wry smile on her face as she held on tightly to her throat.

 One of the orderlies grabbed at her arms instantly releasing her from the counsellor. Pulling her arms tightly around her back, he pinned her down on the floor with his knee jarring into her back.
“Fuck.A sharp pain coursed through her arm. Looking up, she noticed one of the orderlies holding a hypodermic needle in his hand. “Bastard, you bastard,” she said screaming in a rage, trying to get herself free from the man’s hold, but he pressed down harder with his knee. Her arms ached as a numbness seared through her veins paralysing her.  The two men hurled her up and dragged her from the room. Her white pumps scraping on the floor as her legs finally gave way. She tried to scream, to shout, but no words came from her listless mouth.


Far as I can see it's all Rebecca's POV. :)
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Offline Dawn

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Re: Title to be confirmed 708 words adult fiction.
« Reply #29 on: February 11, 2012, 10:40:31 AM »
Thanks Sio ;D
Time to take it serious and get the job done