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Britva
Moderator   Posts: 37 Registered: 1/8/2003 Status: Offline
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posted on 30/4/2004 at 09:22 AM |
Birds
by Domkitten
Michelle had climbed up the rough trunk of the tree long ago, and was now
sitting still waiting for the sun to go down. Her back was stiff, but in
the end it might
all be worth it. The evening was chilly and cold, and she began to shudder
as the
sun moved closer to the horizon. The lake sparkled as it reflected the
sunset in soft
ripples all along it's surface.
The discomfort and the long wait would be worth it if she could catch a
glimpse tonight of the loon that had been singing so sweetly and sadly for
the last
few days. She'd been sitting awake at night and listening to the mournful
song echo
around the lake, reflecting her loneliness and her own sense of sadness.
She felt a
certain kinship with this bird that was so close by and hoped that tonight
she might
catch a glimpse of it. Loons are notoriously difficult to see,
instinctively shy of
humans and other birds.
She sat still, and as quiet as possible. She waited in an almost trancelike
state for the sound of the bird calling out across the lake in the evening.
She ignored
the tightening of hunger in her stomach and the cramp that was beginning in
her
back. It was now, in the tree, in this moment that she felt completely in
control of
herself. That was why she came, for that power over herself that she so
frequently
felt was lacking.
She sat in the stillness of the evening listening and her mind began to
wander. The tension of her day to day life was starting to wear on her. She
had
begun to dread going into work to face only more fights with co-workers,
more
pointless meetings, more random luncheons and dinners than she could ever
hope
to avoid. She was frustrated with the early mornings and the late evenings
that were
unplanned and seemed with every passing day to get even further from her
control.
She wanted control, something she could hold onto.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Michelle cried late one night while
talking
on the phone with her sister. She'd wept inconsolably for hours, lamenting
the
shattered dreams of her childhood and the lackluster flavor that had become
her
waking life.
The shadows crept even further across the land now, as the sun sank away,
below the horizon, leaving the world in purple darkness. She twilight began
to
sparkle around her and she looked up through the branches to the wide
expanse of
sky overhead. Stars were twinkling now, and she waited, feeling the tension
mount
as she listened for the lonely sound of the bird. She strained to pick it
out from the
other sounds of the night, but everything was still, as if the whole world
was waiting
for the loon's song.
Michelle resumed her original posture against the tree and as she watched
the color fade even further the memory of her first night in a tree
drifted across her
mind. It had been different, she'd climbed into the tree much later in the
evening,
after it was already quite dark.
At the time of course, the reason for climbing up the tree had not been to
search for a bird, it was to hide. After making the decision to run away
from home
she'd found herself, all of eight years old, a block away from the house,
barefoot,
cold, and terrified of the black stillness of night. When she'd turned and
gone back
to her house she was too afraid to sneak in, and had climbed instead into
the large
sprawling tree in the front yard.
She'd shivered away the rest of the cold spring night in her pj's, falling
asleep
cradled in the relative safety of the branches waking when the sun touched
her eyes.
As she awoke and focused on the world around her she was startled by the
nearby
sound of a bird singing, and immediately became aware of the closeness of
both
the bird and the nest.
It had a brownish black body with a red belly, and it sang the loveliest
morning song she'd ever heard (she'd learned later it was a robin). She
watched it
fascinated for what seemed like hours, and was only more taken when a
second
bird joined, flying back and forth with twigs and bits of things to finish
the nest. She
would have stayed all day, but the soft calling of her sister from the
window brought
her back to herself.
She'd climbed down and snuck back inside without being noticed. For the
next two days she'd climb back into the tree at night and wait for morning
and the
birds. It was on her third day the nest building bird became adventurous
enough to
come close to Michelle as she sat in the branches. She'd looked the bird
over, and
the bird studied her carefully, then, so swiftly that Michelle could
scarcely breath, the
bird plucked a strand of hair from her head and flew away to finish it's
nest.
The small pain lingered on for a few moments but the excitement had lasted
for hours afterward. Michelle had thought about it all day at school, the
secret private
moment, a pluck of hair, a prick of pain, and the solitude of the morning.
As she
crept out of the room the next night she was stopped on the stairs by her
mother,
and after that she was unable to get back to the tree at night, or during
the day. At
the end of the summer her father had cut the tree down, she never knew why,
and
neither of her parent's could understand her tears.
The silence was suddenly broken by a snapping twig and Michelle braced
herself. She could feel the excitement mounting as the world finally
collapsed into
shadows. The night was alive with the teeming sounds of peepers, and
various
nocturnal insects, but still no loon. She waited in the darkness, feeling a
sudden
sense of peace.
In the darkness she felt for the branches and began to climb down from the
tree. The peepers did not stop singing as she touched the ground and began
to
walk away. As she reached the door to the cabin she heard the lonely music
sweep
out of the darkness and she went inside.
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Merry_Widow
Fanatic   Posts: 598 Registered: 24/8/2002 Status: Offline
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posted on 3/5/2004 at 01:32 PM |
It reminds me of Sarah Orne Jewett's story, The White Heron.
I think the best part about this is that loon doesn't make a huge grand
appearance, or any appearance really for that matter. The transition into
the childhood memories struck me as a little rough, but then, I could just
be not paying close enough attention. ____________________
Okay, dazzle me.
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callei
Extreme Fanatic   Posts: 759 Registered: 31/12/1969 Status: Offline
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posted on 6/5/2004 at 07:25 AM |
one thing i did notice was all the "began to" and "started to"s.
"The evening was chilly and cold, and she began to shudder as the sun moved
closer to the horizon"
Did she start to shiver and continue to shiver constantly thru the whole
time frame or did she shiver once with the cold? by the writing, its
implied that she would have had hypothermia by the time she headed in.
"The tension of her day to day life was starting to wear on her" the rest
of the paragraph talks about how it had been wearing on her for some time
before tonight up this tree. and had she previously enjoyed the fights with
co-workers, meetings, and pointless meals? or hate she always disliked them
and now they were so numerous and frequent that she dreaded going to work
to face them?
Those kinds of word choices i think take away from the impact of the story.
there is a feeling of cyclical events here and i think the ending would be
punched up a bit if you said she went in to call her sister. sister called
her back from her first bird watching and calling her sister when she stops
watching for the bird would perhaps focus on that cyclical, exploritory
feeling. and give us a reason why she went back in and stopped looking for
the symbol of loniless and isolation.
____________________
Real goths wear silver and crosses to keep the werewolves and vampires
away.
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Britva
Moderator Posts: 37 Registered: 1/8/2003 Status: Offline
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posted on 9/5/2004 at 08:56 AM |
Well, it looks like we've gotten all the responses we're going to get on
this one. I think the reason that we're getting steadily fewer responses
on these is that the stories are getting better, and there aren't as many
obvious things to criticize (hooray!). Unlike most people, though, the
better a story is, the more I can usually find to say about it. We'll see
if the trend continues.
In any case, on to Birds:
I completely agree with callei on all of the began to's and started to's,
but I would like to add one more stylistic criticism which should also be
easy to fix: redundancy. For example, in the sentence that callei picked
out, "The evening was chilly and cold." no need to repeat, just stick with
one or the other. I prefer "chilly" but that's up to you.
"She'd been sitting awake at night and listening to the mournful song echo
around the lake, reflecting her loneliness and her own sense of
sadness."
You already have a solitary loon singing at night. I think if you left
this sentence at, "She'd been sitting awake at night, listening to the song
echo around the lake," we'd get "mournful," "sadness," and "loneliness."
This is also related to "show, don't tell" which I'll get into a little
further down.
"The shadows crept even further across the land now, as the sun sank away,
below the horizon, leaving the world in purple darkness."
The most obvious redundancy in this one is "below the horizon" (where else
is the sun going to sink away to?), but you could really do without "as the
sun sank away" too because we know what causes the shadows to "creep
further across the land." Now you have a little problem, though, because
that "purple darkness" line is evocative and you want to keep it, but it's
the sun that leaves the world in darkness, not the creeping shadows. So,
since you've already mentioned lengthening shadows a couple of times
anyway, I think the best sentence here would be "The sun sank away, leaving
the world in purple darkness."
"(she'd learned later it was a robin)"
This line is also redundant, though less obviously so. Basically, I think
you can give your readers credit for knowing which bird has a red
breast.
"Michelle had thought about it all day at school, the secret private
moment, a pluck of hair, a prick of pain, and the solitude of the
morning."
Two redundancies here. One, secret and private, although they mean
slightly different things, are doing the same work in this sentence. Pick
one or the other (personally I think secret works better). Two, "a pluck
of hair... of the morning," is a recap of what we just read. If you say,
"Michelle had thought about it all day at school, that secret moment," you
get the meaning without weighing the sentence down in redundancy and
floweriness.
The writing here is competent, and I think if you work on paring it down to
essentials, you'll find a nice, efficient style. The thing that's going to
be harder to adjust in this story, though, is your tendency to tell, not
show.
"Show, don't tell" is a fairly common axiom in writing, but for those of
you who don't know what it means, I'll give you a quick explanation. Tell:
"Jimmy had a bad day at school." Show: <write a scene at school in
which bad things happen to Jimmy> Tell: "Jane was furious." Show:
"Jane balled up her fist and put it through the plaster wall." Tell:
"Bobby didn't like her boyfriend and wished they would break up." Show:
"'Listen, I don't like this guy, and I don't think he's good for you,'
Bobby said."
And so on...
The reason showing is better than telling is that it gives emotions and
scenarios a specificity that increases their impact, and it allows more
room for subtlety and reader intpretation.
In the case of Birds, you definitely want to give some indication that
events in Michelle's life or her emotional state are causing her to seek
out this loon. But instead of saying:
"'It wasn't supposed to be like this,' Michelle cried late one night while
talking
on the phone with her sister. She'd wept inconsolably for hours, lamenting
the
shattered dreams of her childhood and the lackluster flavor that had become
her
waking life."
or
"The tension of her day to day life was starting to wear on her. She had
begun to dread going into work to face only more fights with co-workers,
more
pointless meetings, more random luncheons and dinners than she could ever
hope
to avoid. She was frustrated with the early mornings and the late evenings
that were
unplanned and seemed with every passing day to get even further from her
control.
She wanted control, something she could hold onto."
what you really need are some scenes from her daily life. Show her at
work. Show her talking to her mother or her sister. Then, intercut these
scenes with the wait for the loon. Ideally, a reader would then be able to
see a snapshot of her life, and maybe understand (or at best relate to) the
desire to climb up a tree and wait for a bird. And please, please, please,
take out any lines that resemble, "That was why she came, for that power
over herself that she so frequently felt was lacking." The whole point of
the story is to figure out why she comes to this place, and the answer,
like most things in life having to do with emotions, should be complicated.
By straight out telling us, you remove all of the nuance that your story
promises. Statements like this pigeonhole your character into an easily
defined psychology.
All in all, though, I think this is a good first draft, and it really gives
you something to work with. There's a lot of nuance and character here, if
you choose to explore it. Roll up your sleeves and get involved in
Michelle's daily life, and I think you'll find things worth writing
about.
Now, a quick stylistic note that doesn't really apply to this story, but
would be good advice for some of the other submissions I've been
getting.
Think about tags.
Tags are those little things around dialogue that let you know who is
talking (he said, she said, etc). The obvious purpose of these is, like I
said, to let you know who is talking. If you're writing good dialogue,
though, it should be obvious who is talking. So why do good writers use
tags? They use them to insert a natural pause into conversation. If
dialogue is a piece of music, then a tag would the "rest" on the sheet
music. The best, simple example of this was told to me by a professor of
mine. One of these sentences works better than the other two.
He said, "If you come near my wife again, I'll kill you."
"If you come near my wife again, I'll kill you," he said.
"If you come near my wife again," he said, "I'll kill you."
For a little more advice on tags, read http://www.writing-world.com/fiction/said.shtml
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