Critique #23 Erin Underwood
Katharine Kerr July 6th, 2006
Coming to the Parkside Diner was a bad idea. Ray knew it, and he knew Maria
felt it too, but neither of them had the nerve to leave. Maria’s doctor
claimed that visiting the diner was a step toward recovery – as if anyone
could really recover from losing a child - but at least it got Maria to stop
asking him to visit Shawn’s grave. Dead was dead, and seeing a gravestone
wasn’t going to make Ray any happier that their son was in Heaven.
Acceptance was the key to recovery according to Dr. Saltzer, but Ray refused
to accept anything until he was good and ready – accepting Shawn’s death
meant giving up the vital memories of his son. It would be a cold day in
Hell before Ray let go of his family. He was going to hold onto every scrap
of memory until time wore away the edges, softening them like an old worn
photographs that had spent too much time in the sun.
Everything from the faded blue wallpaper to the glass covered apple pie
reminded him of Shawn. Vivid images - curly brown hair, shining blue eyes,
rollicking laughter – flashed through Ray’s mind tormenting him with
memories of his son. It was too soon – far too soon – for Ray to withstand
the onslaught of emotions associated with this place, especially without
Shawn sitting beside him sucking down ketchup and fries.
The only spot available when they arrived was Shawn’s favorite table, the
one that overlooked the park where Ray and Maria would take him every Sunday
afternoon. Beneath the light touch of his finger, Ray felt the series of
nicks and grooves that Shawn had drummed into the hard edge of wooden the
table like the barrel of a music box playing Shawn’s song. It was always the
same beat – tap tap tap, tap, tap tap, tap - played with the finesse that
only an eight-year-old could manage.
Isn’t this a lot more than 13 lines? That aside, it’s certainly touching on deep emotion, but I screeched to a halt when i read:
Say what? Not in any counseling I’ve ever heard of, or in any experience with friends and family that I’ve ever had, has such a false statement ever been made. I get impatient if I see a story spinning out of a false assumption stated as truth and not explained, and I started skimming the painful reviewing of memories.
I don’t know if I’d continue: the subject–the false statement–the long, vivid list of memories meant to evoke my pity, make me feel I’m being manipulated.
Hi Sherwin,
14 lines vs. 14 sentences… ugh! I am so sorry. I owe you a huge thank you for taking the time to read through this piece, especially considering its length. It’s a mistake that won’t happen again.
I originally started this piece as two fairly simply and straight forward paragraphs that I felt were too bland. Clearly, I overshot my goal of inserting the necessary emotion. Thank you for being so honest. It gives me something solid to work from during the revision.
Thanks again, Erin
Erin: with such a horrible subject, maybe your first instinct was right–straightforward and simple. The death of one’s child would never be bland!
But see what the others think. The main point was, though, do think twice about hinging the momentum of the story on his having to accept a death by giving up memories of the cherished–who would be cruel enough to tell a parent that? How he come to that concusion, which runs against all the current counseling? I want to know that before I see him sink into his cherished memories, which were, of course, heart-wrenching and real.
I agree with Sherwood. One thing that needs to happen in this story is for Ray to get a different therapist, if that’s the kind of dumb advice his current one’s handing out!
Thanks Katharine. I agree with both you and Sherwood on this point, and I can also see that I didn’t make it clear that it was Jack’s own fear that he would lose the memories of his son if he were to so easily accept Shawn’s death. This is essential to the rest of the story, so … if it’s not clear the story isn’t going to work.
Thanks again. I sincerely appreciate your advice.
No, no, don’t trash the story, just let the reader know that it’s JACK thinking that! It’s a crucial line, and one thing we learn as writers is that our crucial lines, what sets up the rest of the story, has to be as clear as we can get it.
You’re almost there–you’re in Jack’s thoughts–you just make it clear that’s his greatest fear, and boom, the rest makes ever so much more sense: he’s going through these memories in desperation to hang on. What before seemed artificial now becomes painfully poignant.
Thanks Sherwood, I really appreciate your advice. I’m a little too stubborn to give up a good story, but I’m definitely willing to do what needs doing to make it as good as possible. I’ve got 3 stories going right now, but I do plan to post the revision for this story as soon as it’s ready. Thanks again for everything. I can’t tell you how valuable I find the advice that I have received here.
Revision - I know this doesn’t sound like a fantasy story right now, but it really is. Thanks for letting me repost.
Coming to the diner was a bad idea. Ray knew it, and he figured Maria knew it too, but neither of them had the will to leave. Acceptance, Maria’s doctor claimed, was a step toward recovery and coming to the diner was supposed to be a step toward acceptance – but it didn’t feel that way to Ray. He couldn’t suppress the relentless fear that recovery would result in forgetting. Even the remote possibility that he might lose a vital memory of his son, such as the dimple in Shawn’s right cheek or the greenish tint to his blue eyes, terrified him. It would be a cold day in Hell before Ray let go of his family. He planned to hold onto every scrap of memory until time wore away the edges, softening them like old worn photographs faded by the sun.
Vivid images of curly brown hair, shining blue eyes, and rollicking laughter flashed through Ray’s mind tormenting him with memories of his son. It was too soon – far too soon – for Ray to withstand the onslaught of emotions associated with this place, especially without Shawn sitting between them sucking down ketchup and fries. He wasn’t supposed to be dead.
Wow! The rewrite is so much more effective. I think this really shows the value of good advice taken seriously.