Matthew (style critique requesterized)

dawvee

Well, the short story competition is in full swing, and the... tepid response in many cases to my own piece has prompted me to seek further opinions on some of my other work. I have no problem with ideas, as the sort of meta elements of storytelling come fairly easily.

Where it seems I fall down is in my run-of-the-mill prose. Whatchoo think?

Much to his surprise, in his fiftieth year Matthew found himself blessed with a son already twenty-two years of age. Being honest with himself, Matthew had not been looking for a son so much as a lover, but at his age he had learned well enough to shut up and take what he could get. He was a father. Matthew sipped his morning coffee and read his newspaper, relishing the sounds of creaking floorboards and water running all the way over in the bathroom and only had to remind himself not to go and shut it off once, while reading the birth announcements.

“Sh**, f**k!” Matthew heard faintly followed by a hollow wet thud rattling through the walls. He set down his mug and shuffled sleepily over to the bathroom door.

Matthew leaned into the door and knocked lightly.

“There's a huge f**king spider in here!”

Matthew raised an eyebrow and opened the door. The young man recoiled, covering his genitals. “Prude,” Matthew thought to himself smirking, saying nothing but silently appreciating the irony, among other things. The smirk had scarcely crossed his face before it dawned on him that one should not only not look gift horses in the mouth, but probably other parts too. He politely averted his eyes.

“Where is it?” Matthew asked, trying to sound as paternally concerned as he could with a straight face.

The young man pointed and Matthew caught the gesture in his peripheral vision. He could also easily make out the large blackish spot being gestured at, and in his mild surprise involuntarily sucked his teeth a little. He tentatively took one and a half steps in to the room and leaned out over the blackish spot. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the steamy room and found himself scrutinising a very large brown/black spider of about an inch across, though he had no idea what species or how poisonous.

“That? It's harmless,” Matthew said with a breathy snort as punctuation, sharply pulling himself upright again and turning to the door. Feeling the young man's face screwing up in frustration behind him, he stopped.

“Could you at least flush it in the toilet or something?” the young man spit, the hot, moist air hanging silently between them.

“Just wash it down the drain. Jesus, you're twenty-whatever, not five.”

“It won't fit down the drain! That's the point!”

In the silence that followed Matthew wanted nothing more than to plant his face in his palm and invent a string of curses foul enough to set the Holy Virgin on fire, but he was a father, right? There were no nappies, no crying, vomiting, toilet training, none of that bullsh**, so he figured even he had a chance to make it work this time. But this was first impression time, and he had to act fast.

Matthew turned with a rising growl in his voice and slammed his fist on the black beast, pounding it again and again into a mushy paste on his palm while the growl morphed into a string of red-faced screams resembling the words “f**k”, “die”, “f**king”, “cock”, “f**k” again, and the phrase “here's your f**king point”. Then he stood half hunched, half slouched, breathing heavily for a moment before dramatically wiping his face with his sleeve and his palm on the young man's thigh.

“Damn”, thought Matthew, “that was a bit too close to his cock.” He meekly glanced up at the young man then down again, turned and walked out the door.

“You're welcome,” he muttered gruffly as he slammed the door.

Edit: I should add, this isn't a complete story. It's just the opening.

EileenG

The intro is weird. Lots of questions raised, but not answered. HOW did he acquire a 25 year old son? Why is the son naked in his bathroom? Stuff like that.

Phrases like "Being honest with himself" are unnecessary and slow the pace.

You've already given his age, so you don't need "at his age".

Unless someone is a telepath, you can assume that anything they think is to themselves.

Keep sentences a bit shorter.

"... not look gift horses in the mouth but probably other parts too." Makes no sense.

"...breathy snort as punctuation" Huh?

How do you feel something behind you?

Try rewriting it without the adjectives, see if it works better.

dawvee

Good points, thanks Eileen. As for the questions raised and never answered, they're all addressed in subsequent passages.

pickarooney

What about:
In his fiftieth year Matthew found himself blessed with a son. Much to his surprise, the boy was already twenty-two years of age and (a qualified astronaut).

Rather than open the surprise straight away, let the reader hold it a second and then burst it open?

davyjose

You're trying to get to much onto the page, dawvee. you're missing out on the message for the sake of style. Words are there to carry the message, not the style. the advice given by Eileen says much of what i want to say. Perhaps you could rewrite this piece with as few adjectives and embellishments as possible, and repost it?

I don't think you're a bad writer. I think if you work on a few things, I think you'd be a lot better. Don't worry too much about the competition. It was a one-off and highly subjective. Some of the versions getting more votes, I personally find to be quite poor, so there you are.

Keep writing, and keep learning.

Memnoch

Don't worry about style. Just think about your story and what you are trying to say with it and try and convey that as effectively as you can. Too many writers get caught up in style, and ironically, the more you obsess with it, the more it suffers. Just write what feels natural and let the story out.

Yes a couple of experts in the short story comp stood out because of style, but mostly what people enjoyed was a particular twist or take on the story. Look at Dan Brown, hardly a master of style, same goes with the Twilight series (*puke). Just write the story you are passionate about because stores are what people care about most.

Literary aspirations that we allow ourselves to be caught up in are actually more of a distraction than a help.

dawvee

Thanks for the comments everyone. I know I'm not a bad writer, certainly, but I'm always looking to get better. I have confidence in my abilities to conceive and structure a story, but fear my writing style in prose is too... prosaic?

Here's an edit, taking out some of the mentioned problem phrases and shortening the sentences. I culled some adjectives as well, though not all of them. I'm uncertain as to whether I should explain where the story eventually goes with this, as all of the details in the opening paragraph are fairly crucial as it goes on.

In his fiftieth year Matthew found himself blessed with a son. Much to his surprise, the boy was already twenty-two years of age, and without a mother in sight. Matthew had not been looking for a son so much as a lover, but he had learned well enough to shut up and take what he could get. He was a father. Matthew sipped his morning coffee and read his newspaper, relishing the sounds of creaking floorboards and running water from the bathroom. He only had to remind himself not to go and shut it off once, as he read the birth announcements.

“Sh**, f**k!” Matthew could hear down the hall. A hollow thud rattled through the walls. He set down his mug and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom door.

Matthew leaned into the door and knocked.

“There's a huge f**king spider in here!”

Matthew raised an eyebrow and opened the door. The young man recoiled, trying to cover his genitals. “Prude,” Matthew thought smirking. He said nothing as he silently appreciated the irony, among other things. The smirk faded as it occurred to Matthew that, in addition to not looking this gift horse in the mouth, he probably shouldn't stare at his penis, either. He politely averted his eyes.

“Where is it?” Matthew asked, trying to sound as paternally concerned as he could with a straight face.

The young man pointed and Matthew caught the gesture in his peripheral vision. He could easily make out the large blackish spot being gestured at, involuntarily sucking at his teeth a little. He tentatively took one and a half steps in to the room and leaned over the spot. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the steam and found himself staring at a brown/black spider about an inch across. He had no idea what species or how poisonous.

“That? It's harmless,” Matthew said with a snort, sharply pulling himself upright again. He turned to the door. The young man's face screwed up in frustration behind him. Matthew stopped.

“Could you at least flush it in the toilet or something?” the young man spit. The hot, moist air hung silently between them.

“Just wash it down the drain. Jesus, you're twenty-whatever, not five.”

“It won't fit down the drain! That's the point!”

Matthew wanted to plant his face in his palm and invent a string of curses foul enough to set the Holy Virgin on fire. But he was a father, right? There were no nappies, no crying, vomiting, toilet training, none of that bullsh**. He figured even he had a chance to make it work this time. But this was first impression time. He had to act fast.

Matthew turned with a growl and slammed his fist on the beast. He pounded it again and again into a paste across his palm. His growl morphed into a string of red-faced screams resembling the words “f**k”, “die”, “f**king”, “cock”, “f**k” again, and the phrase “here's your f**king point”. Matthew stopped. He braced himself over the bathtub, half hunched, half slouched, breathing heavily. He looked up at the boy, melodramatically wiping his face with his sleeve, then his palm on the young man's thigh.

“Damn”, thought Matthew, “that was a bit too close to his cock.” He glanced up at the boy's face then down again, turned and walked out the door.

“You're welcome,” he muttered as the door slammed behind him.

pickarooney

Matthew had not been looking for a son so much as a lover,

Although I know what you're trying to say, this just reads to me as though the lover in question is a young man for some reason.

but he had learned well enough to shut up and take what he could get.

This just seems off. You want a gold watch, but get a plastic one, fair enough, or a Punto instead of a Lamborghini, OK, but a son instead of a girlfriend just doesn't fit.

He was a father.

Are you telling us (we know already) or is he trying to get used to the idea himself (pair it with some action: 'he shook his head', 'he still couldn't get his head around it'...)

Matthew sipped his morning coffee and read his newspaper, relishing the sounds of creaking floorboards and running water from the bathroom. He only had to remind himself not to go and shut it off once, as he read the birth announcements.

He's sitting, relishing the noise in the bathroom (itself a bit of a stretch, but OK) yet he still has to remind himself that there is someone in there?

“Sh**, f**k!” Matthew could hear down the hall. A hollow thud rattled through the walls.

A rattle is a repetitive, fairly-high pitched noise, quite the opposite to a thud.

Matthew raised an eyebrow and opened the door. The young man recoiled, trying to cover his genitals. “Prude,” Matthew thought smirking. He said nothing as he silently appreciated the irony, among other things.

So he is into young men? His son, though, a little icky, but hey, let's not be prudes! I'm not sure what irony he's appreciating, by the way.

He could easily make out the large blackish spot being gestured at, involuntarily sucking at his teeth a little.

Passive voice is clunky. Does Matthew or the spider suck his teeth?

He tentatively took one and a half steps in to the room and leaned over the spot.

Such precision is useful for unearthing pirate treasure, not so much for entering a bathroom.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the steam and found himself staring at a brown/black spider about an inch across.

He can make out vague gestures in his peripheral vision despite the steam?

He had no idea what species or how poisonous.

Why tell us that you're not telling us?

“That? It's harmless,” Matthew said with a snort,

But he knows it's harmless? (he seems to genuinely think so rather than just act tough based on his reaction a little later)

“Could you at least flush it in the toilet or something?” the young man spit.

spat

The hot, moist air hung silently between them.

This is neither useful information nor a particularly interesting description (or scientifically accurate, for that matter).

Matthew wanted to plant his face in his palm and invent a string of curses foul enough to set the Holy Virgin on fire.

He's that annoyed over this? What would he do if his car got stolen?

But he was a father, right?
There were no nappies, no crying, vomiting, toilet training, none of that bullsh**. He figured even he had a chance to make it work this time. But this was first impression time. He had to act fast.

Again, are you talking to us or is he talking to himself? The writer/character line is crossed a couple of times in this passage.

Matthew turned with a growl and slammed his fist on the beast. He pounded it again and again into a paste across his palm.

The spider is suddenly in his palm?

dawvee

I realize you're nitpicking, and I appreciate the attention you've given this. Though on a lot of your points you just seem to disbelieve that I'm actually saying/suggesting what it seems like I am. In most cases, the meaning you guessed was the intended one, however off-putting or disorienting it might seem.

Anyway, here's the synopsis of the whole story:

His 'son' is not in any legal or biological sense his son. He's just a messed up, drug-addled kid with serious daddy issues that he picked up in a bath house. The night before the narrative starts, Matthew had brought the kid (James) home, and James broke down, begging ol' Matt to be his daddy. Matthew, being a surly, lonely old bastard whose own actual biological son won't speak with him, decides what the hell, I'll give it a go. They may or may not have had sex, that's left ambiguous.

The story comes to its climax when the whole ridiculous arrangement falls apart, largely because neither of them is that into it. For James's part, it's because he's now sober, and for Matt's part, because that morning he had read that he was now an actual, real live grandpa. In the final scene he tries to call his real son to reconnect, but gets hung up on. Ta da!

Overall I'm not sure how much I can take from the points you raised, but I'll take it under consideration. Thanks for taking the time to make them!

davyjose

dawvee wrote: »

I realize you're nitpicking, and I appreciate the attention you've given this. I disagree with a number of the things you've highlighted, pickarooney. For one, the things that you flag as being strange or 'wrong' in the specific details, you just seem to disbelieve that I'm actually saying/suggesting what it seems like I am.

Anyway, here's the synopsis of the whole story:

His 'son' is not in any legal or biological sense his son. He's just a messed up, drug-addled kid with serious daddy issues that he picked up in a bath house. The night before the narrative starts, Matthew had brought the kid (James) home, and James broke down, begging ol' Matt to be his daddy. Matthew, being a surly, lonely old bastard whose own actual biological son won't speak with him, decides what the hell, I'll give it a go. They may or may not have had sex, that's left ambiguous.

The story comes to its climax when the whole ridiculous arrangement falls apart, largely because neither of them is that into it. For James's part, it's because he's now sober, and for Matt's part, because that morning he had read that he was now an actual, real live grandpa. In the final scene he tries to call his real son to reconnect, but gets hung up on. Ta da!

Overall I'm not sure how much I can take from the points you raised, but I'll take it under consideration. Thanks for taking the time to make them!

Yeah, I felt that it was strongly being hinted at, that the young man wasn't actually his son. Presumably the story follows some kind of arc that explains this, and puts everything into context? I look forward to reading more.

pickarooney

dawvee wrote: »

His 'son' is not in any legal or biological sense his son. He's just a messed up, drug-addled kid with serious daddy issues that he picked up in a bath house. The night before the narrative starts, Matthew had brought the kid (James) home, and James broke down, begging ol' Matt to be his daddy. Matthew, being a surly, lonely old bastard whose own actual biological son won't speak with him, decides what the hell, I'll give it a go. They may or may not have had sex, that's left ambiguous.

The story comes to its climax when the whole ridiculous arrangement falls apart, largely because neither of them is that into it. For James's part, it's because he's now sober, and for Matt's part, because that morning he had read that he was now an actual, real live grandpa. In the final scene he tries to call his real son to reconnect, but gets hung up on. Ta da!

Were we supposed to be able to figure this out from the excerpt you posted? None of that was remotely clear to me and I would obviously have approached it differently if you'd told us this up front.

Although Davy seems to have worked it out so perhaps I'm just not that perceptive. Can we see more of it?

dawvee

pickarooney wrote: »

Were we supposed to be able to figure this out from the excerpt you posted? None of that was remotely clear to me and I would obviously have approached it differently if you'd told us this up front.

Although Davy seems to have worked it out so perhaps I'm just not that perceptive. Can we see more of it?

No, it's not meant to be clear in the first passage. The narrator is telling a bit of a lie in this passage that gets caught out later. The structure I had in mind for the story is that it drops you into the situation with them implied as actual father and son, but with a number of things just not adding up about that.

Suffice to say I'm fairly confident that any meanings or moods, even peculiarities of the characters, are more or less what I intended to convey in the general plan of the story. I understand its not an assumption that can automatically be made with some randomer on a forum who may or may not have two IQ points to rub together.

Where I'm uncertain is if the language itself is engaging enough to prompt the reader to continue through the story, and how that might improve. To that end there've been a few useful suggestions, so thanks to all for that.

Anyway, if I've learned nothing else, it's not to post excerpts unless they're fairly self-contained. I'll try to get more of the story up as I go through it with some of the previous suggestions in mind. Most of it is still just notes in my head, though.

pickarooney

dawvee wrote: »

Anyway, if I've learned nothing else, it's not to post excerpts unless they're fairly self-contained.

I've learned this too. You end up explaining at length in successive posts what you forget not everyone knows and the original question kind of gets overlooked. It's hard enough to isolate such pieces from a larger story.

davyjose

So... we you don't advise posting incomplete works here? For those of us who don't write poems, or incredibly short stories, that could render this place pretty pointless.

pickarooney wrote: »

Although Davy seems to have worked it out so perhaps I'm just not that perceptive. Can we see more of it?

I wouldn't say that, but I did think it was hinted at that there was more to it than a typical father/son relationship, and that intrigued me. As it was an incomplete work (see above) I gave the benefit of the doubt to that when I read the piece.

pickarooney

davyjose wrote: »

So... we you don't advise posting incomplete works here? For those of us who don't write poems, or incredibly short stories, that could render this place pretty pointless.
I wouldn't say that, but I did think it was hinted at that there was more to it than a typical father/son relationship, and that intrigued me. As it was an incomplete work (see above) I gave the benefit of the doubt to that when I read the piece.

I think either chapters that can be read on their own or excerpts with a lead-in paragraph explaining who is who and what's going on are much easier to give relevant feedback on. Failing that, the beginning of a story or chapter. From experience, posting up a couple of paragraphs from the middle of a story tends to put people off as they have no frame of reference.

Even your own first reaction to the piece was that the message was not being clearly conveyed, was it not?

davyjose

pickarooney wrote: »

I think either chapters that can be read on their own or excerpts with a lead-in paragraph explaining who is who and what's going on are much easier to give relevant feedback on. Failing that, the beginning of a story or chapter. From experience, posting up a couple of paragraphs from the middle of a story tends to put people off as they have no frame of reference.

Even your own first reaction to the piece was that the message was not being clearly conveyed, was it not?

Not quite. I felt that the language used to convey the story was at times muddled, but the actual content wasn't something i felt i could judge. However, i could see there was something between the lines, so to speak.

Going back to my previous point, I think it's possible to judge someone's style, or lack of, without knowing too much about what's going on. Having a gift for prose -- having that unique skill -- is probably the only other necessity, to become a published author, along with plot, and luck. And that was, I believe, what dawvee was asking for advice on.

dawvee

I've had a bit of an epiphany while editing another piece, thanks in part to the comments you've all provided. Anyway, it just came into focus for me. I need to shut up and state the facts, cut it down to bare bones and not worry about the phrasing so much.

EileenG

dawvee wrote: »

I've had a bit of an epiphany while editing another piece, thanks in part to the comments you've all provided. Anyway, it just came into focus for me. I need to shut up and state the facts, cut it down to bare bones and not worry about the phrasing so much.

Absolutely. In fact, it's amazing how much cutting to the bare bones reveals your natural style.