Not sure where this goes... (Creative writing)

**Fryza** · 06-18-2007, 01:30 PM

No idea where to put this, I've seen book-related topics here, so I guess I'll put it here. This is a little piece I started, need to update and continue a bit. Constructive Criticism is highly welcomed...

A catalyst, the world can go round or stop by the pure intervention of one of these. A catalyst: one that precipitates a process or event, especially without being involved in or changed by the consequences. It can be a person, an object- it could be an act of God...

Gerald Weaver was just an ordinary bum living on the streets of New York. Weaver was in his mid-thirties, under-educated, and scrounging by with whatever he could. The perfect archetype of the homeless man, a long brown coat covered his body, while his gray, unwashed hair was covered by a torn stocking cap. Normally these long winter nights would be filled with searching for someplace warm, but tonight was different.

But tonight, like most of the people in New York, Mr. Weaver couldn't help himself but stand outside and watch the sky. Traffic had been stopped miles back, as people got out of their cars in both fear and awe. Some people prayed to their deity, some people used the confusion to commit crimes, and some just stared into the distance.

And what they stared at was the possibility for Armageddon. Up above the atmosphere, a giant meteor had begun its descent to the Earth, heading right for the Atlantic Ocean. It was too large to harmlessly fall to pieces, and the people could see it.

The giant hunk of rock hurled itself closer to the water, too close to shoot down, and too big to do any real damage to be done to it at the time. All around the world, television and radios spat off nothing but predications of the end, as the rock drew closer with each second.

Weaver watched his life flash before his eyes. What would happen once the meteor hit? The wave should be big enough to level parts of the city. Maybe the whole city! Fear overcame Gerald Weaver, who had suddenly grown fond of living, even this miserable life style. And then it happened.

Within feet of the water, the meteor let out a brilliant glow, before releasing itself in an explosion. The water surged around the giant rock, funneling itself into the sky. The streets felt the shockwave, the seawater sprinkling down over-head. However, no matter how large the explosion was, the water never waved over.

The world watched as the most potentially dangerous situation was rained away...

Heaven's Sinn
Chapter One: The Catalyst

Two Weeks Later

"And scientists are still investigating the meteor explosion from a few weeks ago, even the pooled intellect of various nations has failed to discover anything."

The reporter on the television continued speaking of the near disastrous event just a few weeks prior. Benjamin Sinn sat on the couch, watching the event flipping through the channels. "C'mon Ben, can't we have a day not hearing about that damn meteor?"

"Hush Jen, they may have found something new." His wife, Jennifer Sinn, was a stay-at-home mother, while he worked for a local insurance company. They have two boys, seventeen year-old Eric and fourteen year-old Jeremy.

Since the incident with the meteor, now referred to as 'Armageddon Passed', Benjamin had indulged himself with the effects of the rock. The unnatural explosion had caught the eye of the planet's top scientists and the government, studying the crash zone, or what little of a zone they could. No evidence had arrived.

It was a normal Sunday in the Sinn household, a typical New Yorker low-middle-class family structure. Even with Benjamin's good job, caring for two boys in high school was not an easy task. Eric was a junior and Jeremy was now a freshman. On top of that, Benjamin was the only one with an income.

And that night was a typical Sinn night. Before supper was even ready, Benjamin had drowned all of his worries away in a case of Miller Lite, and was over the legal limit of alcohol. His sons sat on the other side of the table, not liking their father's actions when drunk.

Jennifer put the food on the table, meatloaf made from scratch. Benjamin scoffed at the food as his wife sat down. "This shit again, Jen? Didn't I tell you to start making food?"

"I'm sorry Ben, but we don't have enough to make meals like you'd like." Jennifer was used to these tirades of Ben's, but was still anxious over them. Ben's attention, his scowl, turned to his oldest son Eric.

"What? What're you looking at you faggot?"

Eric winced, "Nothing sir."

"You're damn right nothing, and if you ever think about looking for a shot to make yourself famous, I'll knock your little head off. I would have stopped at you if I didn't want a boy." Benjamin downed another beer, grabbing the knife to cut the food up. He cut the largest chunk for himself and slid the food across the table. Eric reached over to slide the dish to his mother, but was suddenly gripped with his father's hand across their short table.

Eric hit the floor, his face bouncing off the back of the chair. Both Jennifer and Jeremy jumped from their chairs and backed up. "What the Hell do you think you are doing, you fucking faggot? Did I tell you to touch the food?"

"No, I was just..."

"I don't fucking care what you were doing. I'm your father, and I didn't tell you to touch a fucking thing. And you need to learn some discipline, you stupid fairy." Eric began to get up, rubbing his face. "No, stay down, learn some humility. If you think you're big enough to defy someone superior to you, then you can handle the consequences."

Benjamin signaled for his wife and younger son to sit and eat, signaling they could take some of the food. Eric remained on the floor, trying to fight the tears of both emotional and physical pain. After a good half an-hour had passed, Jennifer and Jeremy left the table. Benjamin ordered for the food to be taken outside of the stairs. Jennifer reluctantly agreed. He waved his hand for Eric to sit back up.

"Listen, you better learn some discipline. I hate to have to keep treating my next of kin like a dog, but until you grow a set, you're not better than a dog that speaks English. I regret having you sometimes, you know that?" Benjamin took another pull from his beer and crushed the can, dropping it on the floor.

Eric continued to hold back tears, to which his father noticed. He raised an eyebrow in his drunken stupor. "What's that? The little girl is going to cry?" Benjamin leaned forward and slapped his son in the face. "Grow up you fucking prat. How are you going to be anything in this world if all you can do is cry? Blowing off people isn't going to get you through life like it does high school. Fucking faggot."

Ben lifted himself up from the table and cracked his neck. "It's eight o'clock. Go to bed, and get up for school. If you're late again, I swear to God above I'll break your leg." Eric could only nod and duck away to his room, shutting his door. He wandered to the window and began to sob, letting out his frustration quietly. He stared into the sky, wishing for a world he could live without fear, without all this pain. He shook his head and laughed at his cliché thoughts and went to bed, hoping to sleep off the day's problems.

Eric's alarm clock finally went off at a quarter 'til six, prompting the junior to get out of his bed and start the day. His father would have already left for work- Ben normally left around five to avoid traffic- Eric didn't complain about this, it tended to make him happy at the least.

It didn't take Eric long to get ready. Brushing his teeth, brushing his hair, changing, and deodorant, all following a quick shower, and Eric was ready to go. He normally was ready to leave before Jeremy had awakened. In those instances, Eric would sit down and read his small stash of comic books over. He knew them all by heart, since he couldn't afford to get new ones often. He kept them hidden from his father, who disapproved of them.

Eric's comic title of choice was the X-Men. Something always stood out to Eric about a team of racial hatred heroes, who never could get the long end of the stick. He loved the titles he had, and loved wandering to the comic shop every now and then.

When Jeremy was finally ready, they'd head off for school. They lived two blocks away from West Oakland High School, a school built for the poorer or more delinquent kids. Though not a bad school, West Oakland had a reputation for being less desirable. None the less, the Sinn brothers walked to school each morning, and would eat breakfast there.

This morning was not unusual for a December morning near the waterfront. The wind was ice cold, and the snow came to just below their ankles. Neither boy liked the weather much, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Come Hell or high water- or snow- they would attend their classes.

Being a freshman, Jeremy stayed out of his way for other students. However, Eric had always been in the spotlight, in a negative way. He had been a prime target for bullies since grade school, one of the reasons his father was so displeased with him. Eric never had stood up for himself, and in turn, always got beaten up.

However, Eric displayed an aptitude for learning, and was a very good student. This didn't seem important to his father, but it was one thing Eric excelled at. The two brothers normally marched in silence to their school, neither boy was really outgoing. Though they were close, they didn't speak all too often. "Hey, Eric?"

Eric looked at Jeremy in shock, the silence broken snapped him out of a trance. "Yeah? What is it Jeremy?"

"How's your face doing? I mean, after last night."

They both paused and Eric rubbed his right cheek. It was swollen, and his eye was black on the right side. He had a gash on his side that he didn't let on to, and bandaged up that morning after he dried up. "It's fine, just a little sore."

"I'm sorry dad does that to you..."

"Don't sweat it, as long as he keeps it from you and mom, I'm okay." Eric had gotten used to the beatings over the years, but it hurts worse when his father would hit Jeremy or his mother. Eric felt a sort of pride being the whipping boy, if he kept those he cared about safe.

But not Jeremy. He felt guilty for his father's constant abuse on his brother. The two were very close, and Jeremy looked to Eric for his intelligence and wisdom. However, he tried to hide to from their father, which was another reason he felt ashamed. The two continued their march to school, in silence once more.

West Oakland was a three-story school just for freshman through seniors. It housed about a thousand students, mixing between whites and blacks, with a few Asians and Mexicans. Eric tended to steer clear of the other colored kids, not out of hate for that 'race', but out of fear for the gangs.

West Oakland was known for its strong gangs, generally ranging within the racial minorities. Some whites did too, but they stuck out like a sore thumb. Paying only a few dollars, both Sinn brothers got small bowls of cereal and little cartons of milk. They sat in one of the round tables in the back, generally alone.

"Why you two always so gloomy?" Eric looked up to notice Derrick Keillor, a kid who he'd gone to school with most of his life. Derrick was an easygoing kid, a social butterfly. He'd migrate around the cafeteria before school and during lunch, speaking with each group of kids. He was seemingly hated by no one, and was also a member of the West Oakland basketball team.

"Keeps people away, and silence is golden." Eric answered, smiling. Him and Derrick had always gotten along pretty well, even with Derrick's 'jock' status. Keillor sat down and examined the Sinn boys, a look of concern on his face.

"Hey, Eric, what's up with your eye?"

"Oh, I just fell last night and landed wrong."

"How'd you get the shiner from landing wrong? What'd'ya do? Right hook yourself, sheesh." Derrick shook his head, chuckling. Eric and Jeremy kept their family problems to themselves, though they were sure everyone knew.

"Why are you boys always sitting alone?" All three boys turned their heads to see the lady who spoke it. Her name was Joanne Farmer; most people just called her Jo. She sat down at the table next to Eric and looked over his eye. "Eric, oh my God, what happened?"

"He Ali'd himself in the face falling out of bed." Keillor said, chuckling again. Eric slowly put his hand over his eye, rubbing it.

"Derrick, that is not funny!" Jo moved here a few years ago, and took to the little ragtag group of kids. She became very protective of Eric, since he had always been so quiet.

"Sheesh, calm down Joey, just trying to lighten the mood. Remember guys, I'd never do anything to harm yous physically or mentally. I mean, I'm dolphin friendly!" Keillor held out his hands and got a laugh from Jeremy, but a scowl from Jo. Eric stared at the table, wondering if his eye was that obvious. He sighed and continued eating his cereal.

Eric lifted up his spoon to take another bite from his cornflakes; he placed the spoon in his mouth and bit down and pulled out. He looked down in time to see a drop of milk fall back down into the bowl. But it was moving slowly. He watched in confusion as the drop was almost suspended in the air. He looked up to see if anyone else noticed, and his eyes grew wide.

The entire lunchroom was moving just as slowly as the milk drop. Eric shook his head, trying to get his senses straight. His eyes opened up to find everyone moving at normal speed, and no one noticing Eric's examining. Jeremy did though. "Eric, you okay?"

Jo and Derrick now turned their attention to Eric, making him duck his head. "Yeah, just had some eye troubles that's all." Eric gave the rest of his cereal to Jeremy, for some reason Eric lost his appetite. The bell rang for first period to begin, but Eric couldn't get the image of the slowed lunchroom out of his mind all day.

That day after school, Eric told his brother to go ahead without him, he was going to sit at the park for a while. Reluctantly, Jeremy agreed and left Eric to sit by himself, sweeping snow off the bench and staring into the sky. He sighed openly, letting his frustrations from the day and the day before out. He felt the bench shake for a moment, and turned to see Jo sitting next to him, smiling. "Hey, why're you always sitting alone?"

"Helps me think." He replied, doing his best not to look her dead in the eyes.

"About what?" Eric didn't want to answer that, he didn't know how. However, he changed the subject to something that had crossed his mind.

(Continued)

**Fryza** · 06-18-2007, 01:30 PM

"Why are you here? Don't you drive home?"

"Oh, I do, I just saw you sitting alone and thought I'd give you company, maybe a lift."

"No, I'm fine, just thinking."

"You know Eric, you do a lot of thinking. Maybe you should try doing sometime." Jo smiled and rubbed his short hair. "Well, if you don't want a ride home, I'm going to head out." She waved goodbye and walked to her car. Eric watched her for a moment then turned back to his gaze.

"Me do something? Yeah, right..."

One month, six weeks after Armageddon Passed

"I'm telling you, I hate school." Jeremy threw up his hands in exaggeration, to show his dislike for school. The two were walking to school just like normal, trudging through the snow.

Eric only shrugged his shoulders, tugging on his own book bag. "You're only a freshman Jeremy, you need to tough it out. It gets better as you go along."

"Easy for you to say, you're a genius. Some of us don't get straight A's."

"Hey, I spend a lot of time on my work too, studying and such. It just doesn't come naturally to me, I just have to take the time to do it."

"Yeah right Eric, you get everything done before I can get one thing done. You're frickin' smart." Eric shrugged again, he didn't think so. The two walked to the cafeteria as normal, getting their food and sitting down at their normal table. School was only to be half a day today, which made both of them happy.

As Eric took a bite of his cereal, he could hear snickering coming from the other end of the table. He glanced up to spot a group of girls standing around the table, one sitting down. The light in his eyes made it hard to see, but he could tell the girl by what little skin color he did see.

Her name was Kayla Hinahon; she was a Filipino-American student who moved to the States during Freshman year. She had become quite popular for her looks, and Eric knew well enough that she was a manipulator. He did his best to steer clear of her, which in this instance was unavoidable. "Why hello boys."

"Hello, Kayla." Jeremy said. He knew her name, but nothing about her. Eric continued to eat his cereal, trying not to get tangled in this. Kayla and her crowd were known for still being petty, junior high-like. Kayla giggled and looked to Eric.

"Eric, I've known you for three years, and you can't even say hi to me, that's rude!" She joked, smiling.

"Hi."

"Aw, that didn't sound very nice." Kayla crossed her arms and pretended to pout. Eric sighed and continued to eat his cereal. Kayla raised an eyebrow smiling. "Hey, what's that on your eye? You put too much mascara there didn't you?" Eric clenched a fist instantly; her referencing to a new black eye his father gave him.

"Kayla, can't you whore yourself on a different corner?" Joanne said, walking to the table. Kayla's friends met the girl head on, but Kayla only chuckled.

"Of course I can't. And even if I wanted to, all those trashy white girls like you are there. Maybe if your brain wasn't in your chest, you'd have half a mind." Kayla smirked, standing up.

Jo looked flustered. "What? You shouldn't be talking, not with all the tissues and socks you need to even fill yours up!" Kayla got closer to Jo, getting in her face and getting ready to say something.

"Whoa, is there a problem here?" Mr.Williams, one of the English teachers at the school, separated the girls, Kayla's group backing up further.

"No, there's no problem, just discussing future professions." Kayla smiled and walked away. Mr. Williams shook his head and looked at Jo with a sigh.

"Look, I don't what you two were talking about, but I better not catch it again, you hear me?"

"Sorry Mr. Williams."

"Don't be sorry, just learn from what has transpired." He shook his head and walked away. Mr. Williams was one of the better-liked teachers from the over-all student body at West Oakland. He was in his late twenties, and was a very easy-going person. He doesn't, however, tolerate fighting amongst students, breaking up several fights on campus.

"Jo, you know now they're just going to smear your name all over the place." Eric looked at his friend confused and worried.

"Eh, let them. Their petty squabbles. Maybe one day they'll get syphilis and would have wished they'd kept themselves shut." Eric choked on his cereal, trying not to laugh too hard. "What?"

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting you to say that." The three talked until classes started, and they went their separate ways. Eric grabbed his book bag and began his way to class, turning around and bumping right into a solid chest.

Nearly falling back on his ass, Eric looked up to see it was a kid named CT Ellis, a senior who played for both the wrestling team and the football team. CT stood about six feet four inches, and weighed probably about two hundred pounds. Eric straightened himself out and ducked his head. "I'm sorry about that CT."

"Eh, shit happens." CT paid no further thought and moved on, Eric shook his head and kept going. He never interacted near CT too much, but most people said he was pretty violent. Couldn't have been worse than his father, but the last thing Eric needed was another black eye to match the one he already had.

"Hey, Keillor's open!" Eric heard the shout after school, studying in the gym while others played basketball for fun. He looked up now and then to watch them play. He glanced up to see the ball head towards Derrick. Eric chuckled and shook his head, Derrick was an ace with three points, and he was in perfect position. Eric attended his math, reading a problem only to be interrupted by the sound of the ball moving and confusion.

"What the Hell Derrick, I thought you had that?" Eric looked up to see the ball rolling near the court, and one of the players yelling at Derrick. Keillor shrugged.

"I thought I had it, it looked like my hand was on it. I must have just misjudged it."

"Pretty damned big misjudgment for someone who was completely in the open. For fuck's sake." The kid shook his head while Keillor looked over his left hand. With a shrug, they continued playing ball. And if timed perfectly, Eric remembered the lunchroom incident again. Like clockwork, the image was perfect.

"Look at this Jennifer," Benjamin Sinn shook his head and sighed, "Police today caught an arsonist."

"That's good, why are you sighing about it Ben?"

"The paper is giving some bullshit that the guy had no tools on him- matches or gasoline or whatever."

"Then how'd he start the fire?" Jen walked over to Ben, confused. Ben popped open a beer, his first of the night, on a cold Friday night.

"They're not sure. His clothes seemed to be scorched by his hands, but the hands themselves are fine." The two sighed as Eric walked into the room, looking for something. "Hey, Eric."

Eric turned to his father and stood attentive out of habit. "Yes?"

"How does one burn his clothing but not himself, and start a fire without anything to start it?" Ben always asked tricky questions to his oldest son, usually he knew the answer. Eric thought about it and shook his head. Ben smirked, "Well I'll be damned Jennifer, this is the first time that boy has been stumped. This is one doozy of a case."

"Who's covering it?"

"Some guy named Richard Private. I think I heard of him, he worked that missing kid case a few weeks back. Good guy, grew up around here."

"Oh, he's friends with Mr. Keillor I think." Eric said, remembering Derrick mentioning the name before, fondly.

"Huh, I think you're right. Making up for not knowing the answer. Maybe you're not totally useless all the time boy." Benjamin took a sip of his beer and continued reading the paper. Jennifer shook her head, and Eric just walked to his room. Jennifer followed him.

She opened Eric's door to see him staring out the window into the night sky. She kneeled beside his chair and sighed. "Eric, are you okay honey?"

"Yeah mom, just staring at the sky is all, watching the clouds and buildings."

"Look, Eric, I know you can't take your father's abuse, and I wish I could stop it, but I can't."

"Mother, I know. It's okay."

"No it isn't Eric, dammit!" Eric jerked his head back, surprised by his mother's sudden change in tone. She began tearing up and took a deep breath. "Look, your father loves you a lot, but he's just not happy with his current situation."

"Mom, it's okay. I can take it."

"Eric, I love you. You know you're my baby, right?" Jennifer hugged her son, and held him tight.

Eric gripped his mother closely; he rarely got moments like this. "I love you too mom." She let go and smiled, leaving him alone. Eric continued looking out the window into the empty sky. The streetlights kept the stars from being shown, but Eric knew they were there. The pit of his stomach grew restless, but it wasn't from hunger. He decided to go to bed early, maybe the sleep would settle his nerves.

**

The far east side of New York is infamous for its docks, and the docks are infamous for their empty warehouses. Thankfully for Andrew Lyson, it wasn't hard to identify the numbers of the buildings. He found warehouse 8A and opened the unlocked door, stepping in. "Hello?"

His voice echoed through the building, the random items cluttering the floor. He examined the surroundings nervously. Lyson was always afraid of his monthly meetings; the chills ran down his spine and made him shiver. "Back here, leech."

The voice caused Lyson to jump. He knew the voice, and it was the one he didn't want to hear. He assumed the other wasn't far away, but he made his trek over. A top a platform was a table, half shrouded in darkness, with a seat on the lit side. "Please, Mr. Lyson, sit. I'd like to hear about the happenings."

Lyson sat down, stumbling over his words. "Well, I have some news to give you." He tried to mutter a smile, but was too nervous.

"Yes Lyson, that's why you're here."

"Well, three of our boys were arrested last week, and bail for all three was put at 200 grand."

There was a sigh from the shadows, cloth could be heard moving. "Salvador and his boys, no?" That was the second voice, heavily accented.

"Y-Yes, they were caught robbing a bank and murdering a security guard." After a sigh, Lyson could hear the second voice say something in Italian, obviously frustrated. From past experiences, he didn't like the sound of the man's voice.

"200k each?"

"Yes, the judge made it clear that it had to be 200,000 dollars, American, for each bail."

"$600,000 eh? Well, how much are those three worth alive, or dead?"

"If we don't get them out, they'll just cost tax payer dollars." Lyson said.

"I don't pay taxes, so it's not my concern."

"But they could also talk." That created a silence from within the darkness. Lyson sat quietly and looked around. He hated being at the docks, especially at night. Shadows played tricks on the mind. He looked straight forward, waiting for an answer.

"Well, they could redeem themselves, but I am amused how bail is put up when they murdered a guard. Some laws they got here."

"The point of focus is that they could talk, which is what I want to eliminate. And I don't tolerate failure that large."

"We do have five inside guys as guards in the prison they will attend, and several prisoners. All I need to do is give the word, and we can have all three out."

There was silence again, but not as long as the prior silence. "That works, do it. It's easier to recruit better talent than pay for worse talent."

"THAT then.?

"What else is on the agenda Mr. Lyson?"

Lyson froze for a second, gathering himself. He pulled up his brief case, pulling out some memos and sliding them across the table. "This is what the New York State government had been compiling data for. A lot has come from the 'Armageddon Passed' site."

"Catalyst."

"E-Excuse me?" Lyson sounded confused. He shook his head and looked towards the darkness curiously.

"I prefer not to call it that wretched name. I prefer you call it the 'Catalyst', since that is what it is. You know what a catalyst is, don't you Mr. Lyson?"

"Y-Yes, it's something that begets an event or chain of occurrences."

"Very good Mr. Lyson. I'm glad you know. And tell me, Mr. Lyson, do you believe in God?"

Andrew Lyson paused, holding his hands up confused. "I don't understand your question."

"You should, it's pretty straight forwarded."

"I guess I do..." Before he could finish, the click and the bang caused his eyes to flash open and shut. The light from the gun lit up the room, causing a temporary glow of his employers, and their images. The bullet whizzed past Lyson, nearly making him fall out of his chair. He looked up and tried to regain his focus. All he could hear was laughing, and the sound of the gun being put back.

"Mr. Lyson, you have provided me with all I need. You can go." With a nod, Andrew Lyson grabbed his case and walked- swiftly- out of the warehouse. The slam of the door echoed throughout the warehouse.

"Was that really wise, shooting at him for not properly answering a question?" The foreign voice asked, as the speaker walked away and sat in the opposing seat. The other man leaned forward and cracked his fingers.

"Not being decisive could lead to death in this business. Lyson should be on the ball more. But, these plans are useful. Will keep me from having to do all the work myself." There was a slight chuckle.

"And now what?"

"Alea Iacta Est."

**Kalyx triaD** · 06-18-2007, 02:08 PM

Why don't we have a creative section? Lots of us have videogame ideas, photoshop art, writings and such.

**Jon Kano** · 06-18-2007, 02:15 PM

Already being suggested and petitioned by moi in the suggestion forum but mother fucking powers that be cant be arsed.

**Fryza** · 06-18-2007, 02:46 PM

Kinda looking for feedback and readers, not to make a platform for a new forum guys.

**Kalyx triaD** · 06-18-2007, 02:56 PM

Oh yeah.

It's descriptive, though I got a feeling of reality TV in the Sinn household introduction, or maybe I was stilted by the scene after the nice intro with the meteor. I damn there forgot about it later on and got more interested in the Sinn brothers' issues.

This a series or a one-shot?

**Fryza** · 06-18-2007, 02:58 PM

Series. I have most of the first story done in my head, just trying to get it out on paper.

**gatoconbotas** · 06-18-2007, 05:15 PM

It's good.

I'd make a few minor changes -- unless you have a plan for the Sinn name to mean something, I'd get rid of it. It doesn't sound natural.

Speaking of natural, add some things for realism. When the kids where walking to the school, say they were trudging down "Insert Street Name Here" Don't put Main St. or anything like that, make it more realistic. Maybe name it the street you grew up on?

The next thing -- which is huge, imo, because it is the #1 complaint from Editors and Publishers alike:
Show, don't tell.

It sounds easy but it is hard.
Instead of telling me the guy is a regular, typical bum, show it. Use some of that concrete language that appeals to the senses: Did he smell? What color were his teeth, if he had any? What raggy clothes was he wearing? Things like that to show me that he's a bum, not tell me.

Same thing with Ben Sinn. Show me he's drunk at the table, don't tell me. It goes rather well after the beatings, but you tell me beforehand that he's drunk. Say he stumbled to the table, or after he spoke, instead of saying "he said" use "he slurred."

Show me that the school isn't Harvard. Say that windows are busted, books are 20+ years old, the water doesn't work in all the bathrooms, some random details like that.

Try to describe things more. Use concreate language:
Instead of "meatloaf made from scratch" you could use something like"
"Jennifer slaved over the heated, dirt-covered oven mixing hamburger and (whatelse goes into meatloaf?) until a warm, meaty aroma filled the air as the young children sat down and Benjamin stumbled towards the table.

My final thing -- and my biggest worry, is that you have the story in your head.

A plotline? Cool. You can have one to start out with, but don't have it set in stone. All you're going to do is limit yourself by having the story pre-planned. You have a great premise here, just let your fingers type and let your story develop from there.

I've met quite a few writers in my life, and a common question from many readers is "Why did you kill so-and-so? Why did the story end that way?"

The honest answer is a) they had to or b)they don't know. Because once they get started, the story should develop around the characters, not the characters around the story. The less you know about your story, the better it will be in the long run.

Keep us informed--looks like a good start!

**Fryza** · 06-18-2007, 11:28 PM

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