|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 9:10 pm
 |
|
|
 |
She is all raciness and sophistication, all champagne, sweet clove cigarettes, buttery-smooth skin, sheer black thigh-highs with runs, dark chocolate, orchid-scented lotion, and ebony mascara rimming eyes the color of celery. Her hair is a waterfall of strawberry blond curls that cascades over her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. The black lace garters and corset combined with the dim rainbow of the club’s lights make the milky flow of her legs appear endless. Her voice as she steps onto the stage and pronounces her name is rich and clear amidst the dull sea of murmurs in the audience.
Her name is “Leia” and she hopes we enjoy the show.
Sitting alone at the far end of the bar with my tie loosened and a shot glass in my hand, I am aware of how pathetic I look. My wife is probably at home, sitting at the dinner table with Jamie and Peter, her head lowered as she says a prayer to God that her husband comes home sober tonight and her children don’t hear her yelling at him again. Jamie is probably tapping her foot with impatience under the table as she waits for dinner to be over, the long hour of silence. And Peter is probably lost in his own thoughts, like whether the milk will spill at the table again or what he learned in school today about sulfur—something that’s a pretty color but smells like rotten eggs. And where is Daddy? Why isn’t he sitting with them, the missing puzzle piece in the family portrait? He’s sitting at the bar, where he got pulled by two hookers wearing red who no doubt were hoping for free drinks. And he’s alone.
Leia is dancing now, the curve of a serpent against an invisible charmer. She flips her fingertips off to the side as I drain the last of the blood-amber liquid from my glass, and I see her eyelashes flutter briefly. The question is floating in my head, but I don’t have the heart to ask her and interrupt the show. So instead I watch her fluid movements, the music pulsating throughout her form, the luminous eyes, the hand sliding up her body to unfasten the top latch of her corset.
I am beginning to wonder if Leia is her real name or if it’s a stage name. Maybe both. Maybe it started as a stage name and evolved into an identity. Why do people do things like this to themselves?
I’m also wondering if the meter at which my car is parked still has money on it. I know cops practically saturate this area looking for drunk drivers, underage drinkers, and—yep—illegal parking at this time on a Friday night. They know as well as I do, Friday night is when cowboys, hookers, and vampires…all of them come out to dance. All perfect for a ticket or three.
Leia has unfastened her garters now, and her corset is gone. She slowly and deliberately slides her hands over her skin, angelic in color and soft in appearance but masking something—someone—else, something pure as moonlight greeting stone but harder than stone and colder than night: a woman. Something I can sense, but do not want to know. It’s a familiar dance she’s doing, to me at least. It’s the dance of someone who’s never fallen in love, it’s the dance of my wife and I every night.
Men are beginning to crowd around the stage, digging through their wallets. Leia pays them little regard but for a mysterious smile, her crimson lips curling at the corners and her eyelashes fluttering. Suddenly, something occurs to me: I’m just like her. We’re both doing a dance we don’t want to keep doing, but we do what we must to survive. We’re acting like we don’t see the truth for fear the truth would break us down. My truth is that I have nothing left to go home to. Hers is probably the same.
I wave to the bartender; he pours me another shot as I slap down a couple of rolled-up bills on the bar as payment. The bitter river of alcohol pours into my mouth and stirs with sweet drunkenness in my mind, a fog I do not want to lift from my soul. Leia’s body glows in the dim light as she continues to dance. She is completely bare, but I feel nothing. It is then that I remember: You can buy sex, alcohol, excitement…but you can’t buy love. I have two children at home, a wife who just wishes things could be the same again, a life that I do not want to leave behind.
I don’t go up to the stage to offer Leia money, although quite a crowd has gathered. I don’t go back for another drink. Instead, I pick up my jacket, step through the door into the cool October air, and flip my collar to the cold.
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 9:56 pm
|
|
|
|
Before I really start to say anything about specifics... you have a beautiful way with imagery. You make me really picture everything, but none of the descriptions are forced or overwhelming. It's so natural that I'm almost shocked at how much I can picture heh. It can be especially hard to describe so much, especially when something's in first person point of view.
That said, while it is in first person, I really appreciated how your style didn't revolve on 'I' and 'me' at the beginning of every sentence. It's first person, we get to really see his thoughts, and yet it doesn't seem fake or like a simple recounting, instead as if we were really there inside his mind. Kind of back to the first point, but there was a lot of showing as opposed to just telling of descriptions and thoughts, and it really impressed me.
Quote: She is all raciness and sophistication, all champagne, sweet clove cigarettes, buttery-smooth skin, sheer black thigh-highs with runs, dark chocolate, orchid-scented lotion, and ebony mascara rimming eyes the color of celery.
There's so much more than just her description in here, and it's amazing that that's so. The runs in sheer black thigh-highs, implying that maybe the sophistication is a front, or a look above means. The heavy make-up and scents, implying not only the flavours and looks she likes, but also how bold she is. I really like this description.
A small technical thing, but I think the quotation mark would go before the period, since the period isn't part of her name.
I'm not going to quote the whole paragraph, but I really loved the description of the family at home. The rhetorical questions from the son, the attitudes of all the members. Another beautiful instance of describing and letting on more than you simply state, due to the choice of words and your style.
Quote: I am beginning to wonder if Leia is her real name or if it’s a stage name. Maybe both…maybe it started as a stage name and evolved into an identity. Why do people do things like this to themselves?
This passage reveals a lot about him, even though it's about her. Makes me realise (though the rest of it brings the point home) that he really has a stage-name of sorts, too. Dad. Husband. I'm not going to quote the part later, but his connection to her is a really powerful device in this story. It's really strong. The working father and the dancer, more alike than we'd realise. Also makes me realise that while he's out, it's probably to get away as much as to see girls dance, since he's focusing on his thoughts while he watches her body instead of getting absorbed by her like the other men.
Quote: The bitter river of alcoholic sighs pours into my mouth and stirs with [...]
I'm not quite sure I understand the wording at the beginning of the line. The rest of it is an amazing description, but the river of alcoholic sighs confuses me. I generally picture sighing as going out, not in, unless I suppose it's a swallowed sigh. So he's not really drinking in this line? Just swallowing his thoughts and letting them linger with the drunkeness of his mind? I'm sorry, I think I might be misreading it heh.
I love the ending. I'm quite fond of the fact that nothing but the realisation was really accomplished, and that his life will probably continue to be bleak. That he's accepted it. I think it's a story that could speak to many people, and does. While I'm not in that stage of my life right now, I can easily imagine people like the main character, and I can as easily imagine this kind of scenario being common place. Acceptance of your role, of the ritual, of the fact that this suburban dream is what's necessary and the mechanisms - drinking of the man, yelling of the wife, the detachment of the daughter - to cope with this 'dream' just reveal how unhappy such a goal can make people.
All in all, I really enjoyed this piece.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Psychotic Maniacal Sanity Vice Captain
|
Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 3:29 pm
|
|
|
|
PandorasJackinthebox She is all raciness and sophistication, all champagne, sweet clove cigarettes, buttery-smooth skin, sheer black thigh-highs with runs, dark chocolate, orchid-scented lotion, and ebony mascara rimming eyes the color of celery.
I, like Voldie, lovelovelove this description. When I first glanced at it, I thought the sentence would be a little too long, but it's paced wonderfully so it's not a problem at all. Fantastic conjury of images. <3 Wow. [Also, I love the line about her legs seeming endless.]
Quote: Her voice as she steps onto the stage and pronounces her name is like magic talking to itself amidst the dull sea of murmurs in the audience.
This sentence is a little long. Also, I'm having trouble with the "magic talking to itself part" because it doesn't seem to flow as well as your other sentences. You might want to make the sentence more simple for more of an effect, like "Her voice as she steps onto the stage and pronounces her name is like magic", but this is more an opinion than anything else. X3
This is another tiny, opinion nit-picky point, but I think it might even work better aesthetics-wise if you write 'Leia'. because that won't put so much emphasis on the quotation marks or look so odd with the punctuation. :3
Quote: And where is Daddy? Why isn’t he sitting with them, the missing puzzle piece in the family portrait? He’s sitting at the bar, where he got pulled by two hookers wearing red who no doubt were hoping for free drinks. And he’s alone.
I love how you've managed the narration here, a narration within a narration essentially, that doesn't feel clunky and evokes the perfect emotions. Nice one.
Quote: I am beginning to wonder if Leia is her real name or if it’s a stage name. Maybe both …maybe...
I think this ellipsis actually breaks up the flow of the narrative. I think you might be better if you keep the sentences separate, like "Maybe both. Maybe it started... etc" But again, this might be personal preference rather than anything else. X3
Quote: I’m also wondering if the meter at which my car is parked still has money on it. If not, I’m in trouble—I know cops...
I think that this is the one moment where you lapse out of showing and into telling, and although it's not always a bad thing to do so, I think the bolded part is actually unnecessary. You could easily move from one sentence to the other without having to tell the reader that the man knows he'd be in trouble. Does that make sense? The implication of him worrying about the meter makes this obvious. Also, I love the fact that this is what he's thinking about. It's fantastic.
Quote: moonlight in color and soft in appearance but masking something—someone—else, something pure as moonlight greeting stone...
You use moonlight twice in this paragraph. Might I suggest changing the first one for some other description, since I think the word is a little more awkward there than in the second use? [Nice imagery here, too!]
God, I really enjoyed reading that. I love your imagery and description the most of all - so I thought I'd go through with a fine-tooth comb because, man, I enjoyed it. XD I'm a lit student, so if it comes across as though I'm digging too deep with regards to me feedback, it's not personal! I just love words - and boy do you know how to use them.
This is a really nice piece. Thanks for sharing it with us. I really enjoyed it. =D |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 4:00 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Psychotic Maniacal Sanity Vice Captain
|
Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 5:02 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 10, 2012 8:46 pm
|
|
|
|
I saw you post this in the WF, but I figured I'd put my responses here.
1. What do you think of the writing? Am I doing too much "showing" rather than "telling" or not enough?
I feel that in the beginning I'm being shoved in the face with imagery. It's good imagrey, don't get me wrong, but I feel like it's too much at once. You have four sentences that add up to almost a hundred words of description. It's a little overwhelming and a lot of it would be forgotten by the reader because it's all in one go.
2. What do you think is the real "connection" between the narrator and Leia?
In my opinion I think the narrator (I'm going to name him Bob for short) views Leia as someone like him. However, I also noticed that Bob sees Leia as a human and not a sex object. I'm not sure if this is because you're not putting as much emphasis on her being naked or Bob giving her a (presumed) back story. But I also get the feeling that Bob pities Leia just as he pities himself.
3. What do you think is going to happen next? (I have my own ideas but I want to hear yours--is there hope? Is everything going to stay the same? What will change?)
He's going to go see if he has a parking ticket. XD
Sorry, just had to say that. In all seriousness I think one of two things will happen. One, it'll be a The Weather Man scenario (the movie starring Nicolas Cage) where Bob doesn't get what he ultimately wanted, but he moves on. Or two, he's going to try to make things right by joining his family at dinner.
However, I think it'd be more along the lines of the first option because it seems to me that Bob suffers depression and too much pity to really change anything about his life. He has all the gusto to wish it were different, but I have a feeling that he'd be back in that bar watching Leia perform again.
4. Is the storyline executed well enough or is there too much else in there to make it clear?
There's a few parts I find contradictory and confusing. Perhaps I'm missing something, but it's just not clear to me.
The first part is this line: "He’s sitting at the bar, where he got pulled by two hookers wearing red who no doubt were hoping for free drinks. And he’s alone."
1. I'm not sure what "he got pulled" meant. Pulled into the bar?
2. If he had two hookers with him then how is he suddenly alone? If hookers were hoping for free drinks wouldn't they stay near him to get them?
The next part is: "I am beginning to wonder if Leia is her real name or if it’s a stage name. Maybe both. Maybe it started as a stage name and evolved into an identity. Why do people do things like this to themselves?"
1. Why do people recreate themselves? That's what it seems he's asking, but I'm sure it isn't because Bob is asking it in a demeaning way.
2. I'm not sure what else he could be referring to other than putting themselves down.
5. Does the storyline begin and leave off in a good place? Should there be anything else added to/subtracted from it?
Yes! I love the line: "Instead, I pick up my jacket, step through the door into the cool October air, and flip my collar to the cold." The ending paragraph had just one hiccup in my opinion. The part where you wrote, "... although quite a crowd has gathered" seems to mess up the flow of the paragraph to me. We already know Leia has a large group chucking money at her because Bob has already mentioned it.
6. My original idea (don't ask where it came from) was to write about something clearly sexual (in this case, a strip show at a bar) in a way that it contains the same basic motions and descriptions as I would use otherwise but at the same time is NOT erotic. This is what came of that--it became emotional instead. How did I do at making this idea come to life?
I think you did fairly well for this, but I think it needs a little more work with the flow in some places.
7. My other intention with this story was to write a first-person narrative that reveals JUST ENOUGH about the narrator to make him believable and relatable, but not so much that you wind up with a 100% picture of his world, or his mind. Did I succeed here? Also, the narrator has no name that is given--is this a good choice on my part, or should I have named him?
I think you succeeded in this, but personally I like more of a personalized view of the world from his standpoint. I'm not a big fan of "this could be anybodies life" scenarios. I'd want to know more about what he personally thinks and feels.
Plus, it's perfectly fine that you didn't name Bob. I've read plenty of stories that don't have the narrator named and I didn't even notice it. All that matters is the character's voice.
8. Overall, was the story well-done? What is your opinion, what were your thoughts on it? Any feedback is welcome.
I think the story is well thought out, but the flow seems to be interrupted with a few phrases or skipped scenes. Again, these could be personal tastes of mine that don't line up with your work. I do find the story interesting, though. Again, it reminds me of The Weather Man and for some odd reason I love that movie. I feel like that could be the case here as well. Just needs a few tweaks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
