Author Topic: I Swear, wip, 8th edit, #106, 1372 words, mild swearing plus one F word  (Read 26394 times)

hillwalker3000

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
« Reply #30 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

Offline protekme

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
« Reply #31 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.



« Last Edit: December 30, 2012, 04:35:03 PM by protekme »
-- People are usually more convinced by reasons they discovered themselves than by those found by others 
-- I have made this letter longer than usual only because I had no time to make it shorter
              Blaise Pascal

Offline protekme

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, including intro 1255 words, mild swearing
« Reply #32 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.
-- People are usually more convinced by reasons they discovered themselves than by those found by others 
-- I have made this letter longer than usual only because I had no time to make it shorter
              Blaise Pascal

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 2nd edit, #26, inc intro, 1332 words, mild swearing
« Reply #33 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'
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #34 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.
« Last Edit: December 30, 2012, 06:22:46 PM by brianh »
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline 510bhan

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #35 on: December 30, 2012, 06:00:16 PM »
exclamation marks >:( Use them wisely.

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #36 on: December 30, 2012, 06:23:27 PM »
try that now, is that better? xbx
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline 510bhan

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #37 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.


Offline protekme

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #38 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 periodówhy the ďandĒ) 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 synonymsóinstead 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 donít understand: bucket-bog, plimsoll, smiledone, frig, git. But itís okay, I can guess.

As I did not want to overlook 510bhanís text, I used his/her text to revise and added my 5 centsí worth. Itís 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. Iíll wait until you are done with yours. I hope you will participate in the critique of my text.

-- People are usually more convinced by reasons they discovered themselves than by those found by others 
-- I have made this letter longer than usual only because I had no time to make it shorter
              Blaise Pascal

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #39 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.
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #40 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
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline 510bhan

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #41 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.


Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #42 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
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx

Offline Dawn

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #43 on: December 31, 2012, 08:43:25 AM »
What's first footing. Brian? Dancing?
Time to take it serious and get the job done

Offline bri h

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Re: I Swear (part 1), wip, 3rd edit, #34, inc intro, 1439 words, mild swearing
« Reply #44 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   
Fare thee well Skip. We're all 'Keening' now. xbx