Critique #129 — Philippa Grahame
Kevin Andrew Murphy May 24th, 2007
It’s 9 A.M when the first migraine hits. Lucky me – usually I’m up and aching by 6. Whoever said no rest for the wicked was right, in my experience, because at least half these bastards refuse to keep decent hours.
Decent hours. You’d think I was talking about what people did for a living. Well, let’s put it this way – that’s true a lot less often than you might expect. But then again, I’m a specialist. For all I know, I deal in freakin’ statistical errors.
I’ll tell you what, though. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
My apartment’s an absolute mess. Stereotypical bachelor digs, not that I’m about to give myself a medal. Getting up usually means stepping on a pile of old socks so stiff they could probably pass for shoes. Luckily I’ve got more pressing concerns first thing in the morning, painkillers chief among them. I keep a box next to the bedside with a glass of water. Don’t know what the damn things are called or even if I’m getting them legally – and frankly, if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t care.
I like the wry attitude of the opening (and wince in sympathy, being a migraine sufferer) but the second graph made no sense after the first sentence. “What” is true a lot less often, etc? A specialist in what? The sentence after doesn’t make sense to me either. I wish that and the next line weren’t there, and went straight to the setting.
I enjoyed the bit about the bachelor pad, but after all that about painkillers and the person not knowing how he got them, I’m ready for some actual story very soon.
Perhaps it’s just me, but everything between “Whoever said no rest for the wicked was right…” and “It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it” makes no sense to me. I have no idea of who or what he’s talking about. What bastards? The clock? The migraines? People? What does the ‘hours they keep’ have to do with ‘no rest for the wicked’? I assume you mean that they’re up early/late, but that doesn’t preclude a person from getting rest at other times. What people is he referring to and what’s he a specialist in–statistics? As it is right now, I think you could cut these sentence out and the story would contain the same information (at least, for me) and be a lot clearer.
You’re also missing needed commas in several sentences. Other than that, the writing style is good.
Hi Philippa,
I was with you until the paragraph about the apartment and then I thought, “why is she telling me about the apartment?” sure, it clears up the gender of your narrator, but I’m more interested in what kind of specialist this guy is or at least who the bastards are that are keeping him awake. Why interrupt that kind of tension to tell me the apartment is a mess?
No I take it back, I was with you until
“For all I know, I deal in freakin’ statistical errors.”
Because why wouldn’t the narrator know what he deals with? Addressing the reader as “you” in the next sentence also threw me. I think it’s a hard technique to pull off, and threw me right out of the story for exactly that reason.
I would turn the page, but you’d better address some of the questions you’ve raised or I’ll be too confused to keep going.
Also, I think it’s weird to refer to migraine meds as painkillers. In my experience either you take them before the pain really starts kicking in, so you don’t have that experience of the pain melting away, or you take them too late and they don’t do a damn thing and you want to die.
I’d read more.
Seaboe
Thanks for the feedback, everyone! The main problem I had was trying to keep my protagonist’s knowledge of what he does out of the beginning, otherwise the ending doesn’t work (it’s not a long story – just a few A4 pages). Those few sentences where he’s hinting at it were my attempt at being cryptic, but as this is clearly annoying (and as they’re not my favourite bits of writing) I’m happy to try and adapt it. How does the following seem for the first 13 lines:
It’s 9 A.M when the first migraine hits. Lucky me – usually I’m up and aching by 6. At least I don’t have a day job.
Small mercies, huh?
My apartment’s an absolute mess. Getting up usually means stepping on a pile of old socks so stiff they could probably pass for shoes – stereotypical bachelor digs, not that I’m about to give myself a medal. Painkillers are a more pressing concern, assuming that’s what they are. More like animal tranquilizers. Either way, I’ve seen one knock a normal man out, and I go through them like you wouldn’t believe.
But when this migraine hits, it’s a doozy. Just about knocks me over. Good thing I’m already dressed, because even after I take five of those little blue tablets, I can tell I’ll be getting no peace until it’s over.
Gr - I should read more closely before I post! I meant to cut the “just about knocks me iover”, and the “over” at the end to “done.”
Hi Philippa,
I like this second version much better — it eliminates the confusing asides, and moves the story much better, imo. However, I think the second half could use a bit more streamlining. Consider something like:
Or something that would keep us in the story, instead of at a distance while the protagonist explains things to us.
Hope this helps.
Hi Beth,
Thanks! After reading through the comments last week, I went back and re-wrote the whole story, so that opening middle section now reads:
What do you think?
I’m a little late coming to this, but after reading and liking your latest opening, I thought I’d check this one out.
I like the rewrite. Particularly like the second paragraph. The only part that bothered me happened in that final sentence. Why “coincidentally”? It seems to me “not coincidentally” would work better. Or maybe “unfortunately.” But why is it a coincidence that he’s not going off to see Lauren Bacall? Logically, that doesn’t make any sense.
One last thing. In the original version, you mention a common phrase “no rest for the wicked.” I do believe the actual saying is “no rest for the weary.” I see you dropped it from your newest version, but I thought I’d mention it anyway, just for future reference.