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Country Boy: Chapter 1, part 3



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Mon Sep 26, 2011 7:22 pm
BluesClues says...



The same way his relatives from Detroit had looked when they came to the country to visit. He and his brother used to laugh at them for that, for pointing at the stars when they didn’t even know any constellations to pick out, for the way their eyes popped out of their heads when they first looked up at the country night sky. And now he was doing the same thing. For all he disdained the bull-riders at Yeehaw’s, he himself had become citified. More than he’d realized. If he were home right this minute, Todd would laugh at him more than they’d ever laughed at the visiting relatives.
He got back into the Taurus and drove away, leaving the dusty road lying quietly behind him.

* * *

He decided to forgo Yeehaw’s the following Friday. Instead he sat on the sofa in his studio apartment on West 55th, drank a Pabst he’d bought at the nearest liquor store, and watched the basketball game. He figured the Pistons would win, not that Portland was terrible, but the Pistons had put up a strong front so far. And besides, they were his team. He always bet himself they would win, whether they looked strong or not.

At halftime, his cell phone rang, really rang. No Beethoven ringtones for him. He flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“Jack? It’s mom.”

“I know, Mom. I have caller ID. What is it?”

“Well…your father’s birthday is in a few weeks, you know, and, well, I thought it would be nice if you came to the party. He’s retiring, after all.”

Nice for who, Jack wondered, but he didn’t say that.

“Dad’s not retiring.”

“He is too!” his mother said reproachfully. “He said so.”

“Maybe he said so, but Dad won’t retire until he drops dead.”

“Even so, he’s turning sixty-eight, and I think you should be here.”

“Dad doesn’t want me there,” Jack said.

“You don’t know that. When have you even talked to him lately?”

“Mom—”

“Jack,” said his mother, and now it was her look here, young man voice, “you have not been home in forever. For two years it’s been phone calls and the occasional e-mail, nothing else. Everyone in the family is coming together for this. I want you there.”

Jack sighed.

“When is this?” he asked in a resigned voice. He stared intently at the television. Halftime was nearly over. In a moment the Pistons would be taking the ball, but he couldn’t concentrate with his mother’s voice in his ear.

“…that Friday,” she was saying. The look here voice had been replaced by something cheerful and almost smug. Unless he was imagining that, but it sounded like someone (his father?) had told her not to bother calling, Jack wouldn’t come, and now she was preparing for a told-you-so. “…six o’clock, but of course you’ll be staying at the house, so you don’t need to worry about that. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said automatically. Oh, dear God. He would be staying at the house.

“I love you,” his mother said in a softer tone. She wasn’t even trying to make him feel guilty, he could tell, but the pit of his stomach still churned.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself as he hung up. One day – no, a couple of days, of course she expected him to stay at their house for a few nights – a couple days wouldn’t kill him. Right?

He went back to the game, feeling uneasy now. He swigged his beer and tried to settle the feeling.

Fifteen minutes later the Pistons were kicking Portland’s asses, Jack was opening his fourth Pabst, and the Koreans down the street were shouting at someone as usual. And then a new sound broke through the night, a yelp. Then more shouting, followed by barking. Jack looked at the TV. The game still had a ways to go. He pulled on a jacket and headed outside.

Down the street he could see the Koreans standing beneath the streetlight outside their bakery, not shouting anymore but waving their hands and pointing up the street. Something moved between the garbage cans outside the apartment building, and then the something whined. A blue-spotted pointer dog belly-crawled out of the shadows and whined again, wagging its tail at Jack.

“Here, boy,” he said.

The dog crawled forwards, still wagging. Maybe it thought he was going to throw something at it like the Koreans no doubt had; it had a chunk of bread from their bakery clenched between its jaws.

“Thief, huh?” Jack said. He crouched beside the dog and ran his hands gently along its bony sides. “Looks like you need it, though.”

He looked back at his apartment building, thinking. As far as he knew, no one else in his building had pets. Maybe a goldfish, but certainly no dogs. Pets had never even come up as an issue when he’d moved in. His landlord wouldn’t be happy, especially considering that this dog was a stray right off the streets rather than a well-adjusted, well-groomed specimen from a pet store or shelter. On the other hand, nothing in the rental agreement said he couldn’t have a dog. The pointer gnawed on the bread it had stolen.

“Okay, come on,” Jack said.

The dog stood up and wagged its tail. Jack patted his thigh.

“Come on,” he said again. The dog barked, a muffled sound through the bread in its mouth, and followed him into the building.

Jack grabbed a spare blanket out of his closet and spread it on the floor by the sofa. Then something crashed in the kitchen. He looked over the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. The pointer lay on the floor, lapping strawberry preserves out of a broken jar. Damn. Jack had left the jar on the edge of the counter after a not-very-satisfying dinner of toast.

“My fault,” he said. He crouched beside the dog and started picking glass off the floor. “No, you don’t want this. It’ll tear your stomach apart.”

He cleaned up and looked for something to give the dog. First thing tomorrow morning he’d have to buy dog food. He dug some lunchmeat out of the fridge, put it in a bowl, and brought it to the blanket beside the couch. He whistled. The dog pattered over and wolfed down the lunchmeat.

“You’re welcome,” said Jack.

He settled on the couch and turned his attention back to the game. Portland was taking a free throw, but the Pistons were so far ahead that it didn’t matter. His phone rang again. He answered.

“Don’t worry, I’m coming to the stupid party,” he said.

A pause, and then his brother’s voice:

“Mom called.”

“Of course Mom called, you idiot. She beats you to it every time. You’d think you’d know that by now.”

Another pause. Todd cleared his throat and said, “It’s just, I know she was set on having you stay at the house, but I thought you might like to stay with us instead.”

God bless him, Jack thought. Saving his big brother from a weekend of torture.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he said. “I mean – if it’s not inconvenient for you and Katie – I’m okay staying with Mom and Dad.”

“No inconvenience,” Todd replied. “Katie suggested it.”

Because Katie knew, without ever saying she knew, because she had been slighted and belittled and taken as a joke by their father as well.

“Well in that case—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell Mom,” Todd said. “That way you won’t have to.”

“Thanks,” said Jack.

“See you soon.”

The pointer whined. Jack looked at it.

“Sorry,” he said. “That’s all there is for now.”
  





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Tue Sep 27, 2011 2:23 am
LiveLifeLoud says...



Fabulous! I was so excited to see you posted c1p3 earlier. Unfortunatly, I wasn't able to read it until just a few moments ago. T'wasn't dissapointed, Again, I can't wait for more.

I only saw one grammatical error while reading but it's fairly trivial: The comma should be a semicolon.

Then more shouting, followed by barking.


Loving this so far!

~LiveLifeLoud
Ah, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't previously aware of.
~Douglas Adams
  





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Mon Oct 17, 2011 8:07 pm
Shearwater says...



Hey, Africa! I'm here for the last part of chapter one! ^^

So, again this is a nice chapter with few if any, grammatical errors which I like. However, you have a good skeleton to your chapter but it's lacking it's meat, the core and the emotions. I understand you probably don't want to say anything about the emotions in general and not bluntly state that he's feeling depressed or angry, Jack that is. But you still want to show us glimpses of what he's feelings and try to dive deeper. Right now, the protagonist is very resigned and far away, as readers, we can't connect to him and that puts a distance between us. Allowing that distance will not make us care about him and his problems, we're not going to root for him because we don't know him and his goals so we can't stand by the fence and watch him. Who stays at a soccer game to root for some kid you met yesterday and only know his name? Right? So, try to connect the readers with Jack and bring us together without giving out too much and still keeping that 'whatever' you're hiding in the dark. Hopefully, I made some sense there.

For a first chapter overall, it's slow in some areas but not all that bad. It's loose with some leftover bones and not much meat, as mentioned, but it's still pretty good in foundation that when you go back to revise it, you can focus on your writing descriptions and emotions rather than the plot and knitting things together.

Overall, you still have my interest in Country Boy and I will move on to Chapter two. Hopefully you finish it all by NaNo because I know you were planning on writing for it. ^^

Best of luck,
-Pink
There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.
-W. Somerset Maugham
  





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Sat Dec 10, 2011 9:45 am
Audy says...



Blue,

Don't think I disappeared on you. Slow and steady, right? Right.

Okay, so right off the bat, the first sentence is a fragment. Not an okay-let-it-slide fragment, like this one, either. I noticed a few other minor grammatical things here and there, almost immediately once the mom starts speaking, a "too" should be changed to "to", stuff like that. No biggies, no worries.

And besides, they were his team. He always bet himself they would win, whether they looked strong or not.


Aw. Funny how a Pabst and a devotion to the Pistons can very quickly and effectively get me to connect with this character. Very well placed. :3

At halftime, his cell phone rang, really rang. No Beethoven ringtones for him.


<3 My love for this guy is ever-growing. Blue, you've stumbled onto the secret to making the reader care about a character. Concrete, seemingly insignificant, every-day-life details. Seriously gets to the bottom of what makes a character tick xD I feel like I've been hard on you with my 2 previous reviews, mostly because then, I felt there was something lacking and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. But here we go! More of this was what was missing.

I also see and somewhat agree with what Shearwater stated. The way I see it, I actually do care about Jack and these little details and such are definitely nice to read and help me connect with him, but I am still distant to Jack, because as of right now there's no character-motivation. What I mean by that is that every character in every novel or story or whatever piece of fiction or nonfiction alike - but every character has a desire, seemingly because every human has a desire.

So if you do the math, that's instant connection right there. Readers(humans) connect with characters through their desires. So right now, this far in, it's real nice to read these little things and all, but I have to wonder where is this story going? What is the point of it all? And what is it that Jack wants?

I do get a bit of conflict this time around, that's good! And no more social commentary! Yay!

“Come on,” he said again. The dog barked, a muffled sound through the bread in its mouth, and followed him into the building.


D'aww. (I'm reviewing as I'm reading) and as I'm reading, I'm thinking to myself, who's going to take care of the dog once he leaves to go to his parents' house brother's house? XD

So, after this chapter I have no idea what's going to happen, but I'm excited. For two reasons: I really want to meet Todd and Katie. They seem great! And also the father. Complex family relations? I'd love to see how this plays out.

~ as always, Audy
  








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