extract - mostly dialogue

cobsie

Eastport

Joe forgot what he was dreaming about the moment he woke up. He slapped around on the bedside table for his watch and stared at it, frowning and rumpled and confused. A phone was ringing. It was mid-morning, hot and bright. With a jump he registered the phone, his phone, and threw himself off the bed and out the bedroom door. He hurried down the hallway to the kitchen and answered it.

"Hello?" He stood barefoot in a square of sunlit formica and allowed himself a pang of hope that it was the girl from last night.

"Hey, hello there. Is this Joe Sullivan?"

Joe straightened. It was a man. A rough-edged man's voice. He squinted thoughtfully before answering.

"No. No, sorry. Joe's not here right now."

A dog was barking at the other end, yipping furiously. The man covered the phone and muffled a yell that sounded like "Get outta here!" There was a scuffle and Joe imagined the man had kicked at the dog, or pushed it. When he spoke again, it was quieter behind the voice.

"He's not there? Joe's not?"

"Nah, no. He's out."

"Hmm." The man thought for a second. "So who's this? Who am I talking to?"

"His roommate." Joe kept his voice simple, relaxed. "Who am I talking to?" He knew this game, how collection agents worked. They got chatty, got you talking about the Celtics, then bam! - you're behind on your loans, Joe. Let's talk payment plan.

"Oh, well. I'm a family friend. Old family friend." The man had a broad Massachusetts accent, not unlike Joe's, but thickened and chesty, like he might unleash a coughing fit at any moment. "My name's Anthony Hogan."

Joe jerked his head a little in surprise. "Oh!" he said, without meaning to.

"Oh, what?" The man's voice took a suddenly direct turn. "Who'd you say you were?"

"I'm Joe's roommate, Jason." He was scrambling a bit now. He knew that name, though. Maybe. He felt flustered. He crossed to the screen window and pushed his forehead against the mesh. Outside, the afternoon burned in a glaring white haze, humid and hot. "Do you wanna leave a message?"

Anthony Hogan declined, raspy and regretful. "Nah, it's really Joe I need to talk to. I just got some news."

"About?" Joe wondered whether to tip his hand. "Everything okay?" He affected a note of roommatey concern.

There was a pause. "You think Joe'll be back soon?"

"I don't know."

"I'd like to leave him a message, then. I guess that'd be okay." Anthony Hogan sucked his teeth, deciding. "I'm gonna give you a Florida number, it's my number here in Miami. Tell Joe I got some news about his dad and if he'd like to give me a call, I'll be in for the day. Okay? You're gonna need a pen for this."

Joe didn't move. He felt a cold finger of fear on his heart. "What about his dad?" His voice shook, he couldn't help it. His mind leapfrogged over years of absence. What about him?

"No, I don't wanna to leave it in a message. When he gets in, he can call me."

"I'm Joe," he blurted out. "I'm Joe, really. I am."

"What's that now?" Anthony Hogan was annoyed. "Listen, guy. Who am I talking to? No fooling around, now."

"It's Joe. Sullivan. I'm Eddie's son. Really. I remember you, Mr. Hogan. You lived...in Eastport? Or you worked with my dad? Something like that." Joe was casting around, throwing memories together. Waves of sweat swept up his back. He paced in a tight circle.

"You're Eddie's boy?"

"Yeah, I am. Really, I am. What's going on? What's going on with my dad?"

"Well why'd you say you were someone else? That's a damn fool way to behave, me trying to give you a message. A serious message, here. Why did you say that?"

Joe dropped his chin to his chest. "I thought you were my college loan officer."

"Hmm." Mr. Hogan hawked phlegmatically. "So, you're Eddie's kid."

"Tomas Edward Sullivan. Eastport, Mass." Joe said, then hesitated, drawing a blank. He pushed both eyelids down with his thumb and middle finger, demanding something more, just one more thing from his brain. He looked up. "He had a Dodge Dart. Green hardtop, white interior."

Mr. Hogan laughed, a short bark. "Jesus Christ. That old thing. That was a great car."

"Yeah." Joe waited as long as he could stand to, then prompted, "So...?" He stopped pacing and braced for the hit. There was a pinprick of thought that it could be...he didn't even know. Love? Money?

Mr. Hogan sighed, a long, sad exhalation. Joe tensed. He could feel it coming, hope scattering. He blanked his mind.

"Listen son." Mr. Hogan's voice bowed low under the weight of it. "Your father was killed. Eddie was. It was a road accident. He was riding on the back of a motorcycle and he just...let go. Right in the middle of highway traffic. Ford Transit coming up behind them hit him full on. He just came off the bike backwards and that was that. So," there was a tremor now, "That's what happened. I'm sorry."

"Jesus." Joe shakily pulled out a chair from the table. He sat down, almost doubled up. There was a deep silence between them, just breathing at two ends of the country. Joe raised his head. "When did this happen?"

"A week or so ago. It took me a while to find you. I went through every damn Sullivan in the phone book, just about." He grated a laugh out of his chest. "I guess Leanne went back to her maiden name?"

Joe smiled faintly, shaking his head. "No, she married again."

There was a murmur of approval, or understanding. "Yeah, she was a lovely girl, your mother."

Joe felt incredibly tired all of a sudden. He didn't want to talk any more. "Okay, well..."

"Yeah. Okay then. I guess you'll be down when you can."

"Down?"

"To Miami. To take care of Eddie's things."

Joe didn't answer for a long time. "I don't think that's going to happen," he said slowly, finally.

Mr. Hogan didn't argue or seem surprised. His voice began to drop away, now that his part was done. "Well. If you want to, later, if you feel different, call me."

Joe sat with the phone in his hand, thumb over the button, thinking nothing, feeling nothing but the small rise and fall of his chest, the grit of the floor under his toes. It crossed his mind to cry, but he knew he wouldn't. He got up and went to the fridge and stood in the cool downdraft of the open door, staring without seeing. After a minute, he took a beer and brought it outside to the back porch and sat heavily on the boards with his back against the shady wall of the house. It was seventeen years since he last saw Eddie. They took a trip to Boston one day when Joe was ten. Then his father returned him to his mother and drove away. They never saw him again.


He rolled the cold bottle against his chest, trying to remember Eddie as he was. Handsome, wiry, Boston-Irish. He wore white tshirts and had black hair, longish, always pushed back under his Red Sox cap. He smoked Newports. He was left-handed. Eddie taught him how to wolf whistle, that last trip to Boston. Joe smiled. He had forgotten about that. They had tacos. The first time Joe tried to whistle, he sprayed taco crumbs all over the table. That was a good night. His heart jolted painfully.





[end of opening scene...rest of story continues in flashback]

pickarooney

The dialogue itself is very good, very authentic. The opening paragraph seemed a little laboured, though. It kind of reads as though you wanted to get straight to the conversation but felt you should write an introduction.

Other than that, very little to add, apart from maybe simplifying the [bits immediately after the dialogue - qualifiers?]. For instance, I have no idea what "he hawked phlegmatically" means or what it adds to that line.

This line:

He stood barefoot in a square of sunlit formica and allowed himself a pang of hope

seems pointless and I don't get how you can allow yourself a pang of anything.

Apart from those minor quibbles, good job!

dawvee

pickarooney wrote: »

For instance, I have no idea what "he hawked phlegmatically" means or what it adds to that line.

From Dictionary.com:

hawk(3)
–verb (used without object)
1. to make an effort to raise phlegm from the throat; clear the throat noisily.
–verb (used with object)
2. to raise by hawking: to hawk phlegm up.
–noun
3. a noisy effort to clear the throat.

Although I do agree with your point, that the qualifiers don't add a lot, and the lines would do better with simple or no qualifiers to put the focus properly on the dialogue itself.

The dialogue itself is great, but as pickarooney points out, the prose in between is a bit clunky in places, particularly the first paragraph. Lines like "frowning and rumpled and confused" and "With a jump he registered the phone" stood out to me particularly.

But yes, definitely good job overall!

pickarooney

dawvee wrote: »

From Dictionary.com:

hawk(3)
–verb (used without object)
1. to make an effort to raise phlegm from the throat; clear the throat noisily.
–verb (used with object)
2. to raise by hawking: to hawk phlegm up.
–noun
3. a noisy effort to clear the throat.

It seems weird to use that with 'phlegmatically' unless it's a deliberately bad pun

"With a jump he registered the phone" stood out to me particularly.

Yes, I think this actually means that e.g. he went on the phone manufacturer's website and entered teh serial number along with his name, as opposed to the phone registering with him.


cobsie, does this replace the previous piece about Joe you posted or does it come just before it?

pog it

Do people say/use 'hawked' at all in this context? I didn't recognise it I have to admit, sorry cobsie! 'Hock' is what I've always known, a good crude and direct word for it!

cobsie

pickarooney wrote: »

It seems weird to use that with 'phlegmatically' unless it's a deliberately bad pun

to raise by hawking: to hawk phlegm up = to hawk phlegmatically. Just an adverb, not a pun. Sorry you find it objectionable!

pickarooney wrote: »

cobsie, does this replace the previous piece about Joe you posted or does it come just before it?

replaces, for now :pac:

pickarooney

cobsie wrote: »

to raise by hawking: to hawk phlegm up = to hawk phlegmatically. Just an adverb, not a pun. Sorry you find it objectionable!

Not objectionable, I just don't understand hocking up phlegm apathetically.

MilanPan!c

pickarooney wrote: »

Not objectionable, I just don't understand hocking up phlegm apathetically.

"Hmm." Mr. Hogan hawked phlegmatically. "So, you're Eddie's kid."


so - - -

hawk a loogy

To suck in nasal material into the throat and then push into the mouth to make it material available to spit out.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=hawk%20a%20loogy

AND

phleg·mat·ic (flg-mtk) also phleg·mat·i·cal (--kl)
adj.
1. Of or relating to phlegm; phlegmy.

http://www.thefreedictionary.com/phlegmatic

Or

phlegmatic [flɛgˈmætɪk], phlegmatical
adj
1. having a stolid or unemotional disposition
2. not easily excited

So, he's either:

"suck[ing] ... [phlegm] into the throat and then push[ing it] into the mouth to make it ... available to spit out"... and then "hawking" it (i.e. spitting it out).

Or he's:

"suck[ing] ... nasal material into the throat and then push[ing] into the mouth to make it ... available to spit out"... and then "hawking" it (i.e. spitting it out), [in an] "stolid or unemotional" [way].

I would guess, as the second one seems a bit far fetched, the first one is the more probable meaning... the fact is, a lot of folks will read that and understand it as the first one, pretty much without a problem.

One thing abut posting stuff on to message boards (and one reason I don't really) is that people mistake their own confusion for issues with the writing.

I see this over and over; people don't understand something, so they assume there's something wrong... While it's true that writers should aim to be clear and concise, if that's their style, I suppose, it's also true that some things that aren't necessarily clear to a few people on a message board WILL be clear to the majority of readers... in other words, the sample size online can be too small to be meaningful...


So cosbie, don't sweat the small stuff... that'll all come out in the was, as the saying goes... the ear for dialogue you have is pretty rare... focus on that and the rest will fall into place.

The Mad Hatter

cobsie wrote: »

to raise by hawking: to hawk phlegm up = to hawk phlegmatically. Just an adverb, not a pun. Sorry you find it objectionable!

Thank you for spelling it right

But do you need to say "hawked phlegmatically"? Surely the first implies the second, like saying "laughed smilingly".

I think most of the dialogue works pretty well, though I'm not sure about the reveal, where Hogan describes the accident - it seems like a bit more information than people might be inclined to give. Also - was he really going to leave that as a message? Or what was he going to say?

Lastly, if Hogan was going through so many Joe Sullivans, how does he know that this is the one he's looking for? Surely that would have been the first thing to establish, even before asking who he was speaking to.

cobsie

The Mad Hatter wrote: »

Thank you for spelling it right

But do you need to say "hawked phlegmatically"? Surely the first implies the second, like saying "laughed smilingly".

I think most of the dialogue works pretty well, though I'm not sure about the reveal, where Hogan describes the accident - it seems like a bit more information than people might be inclined to give. Also - was he really going to leave that as a message? Or what was he going to say?

Lastly, if Hogan was going through so many Joe Sullivans, how does he know that this is the one he's looking for? Surely that would have been the first thing to establish, even before asking who he was speaking to.

Hawked phlegmatically: Whoever knew those two words would provoke such a response? It's very unpredictable, Boards!

To answer your queries - no, Mr. Hogan explicitly said he wouldn't leave the news in a message.

Re plausibility, one could imagine that he would leave a message for this Joe Sullivan and then establish whether or not it was the correct Joe when he got a call back in Miami. However, Joe establishes the connection for him, so there is no need to belabor the point. I want a bit of imaginative input from my readers - and why not?

Same with the reveal...I think establishing a visual of the accident is necessary for the reader, as well as being more efficient, narratively. I can skip Joe asking how did it happen, and the explanation, and the reaction to that, etc etc.

I like moving action through dialogue, it is efficient for both characterisation and plot. I am reading Chekov at the moment and I did find myself half wishing for a time when dialogue was not expected to be anything as natural as the way people actually speak - he has his peasants speaking in whole paragraphs, expressing abstract thoughts - but he never loses his grip on the narrative drive, it is always heading somewhere...I guess that's why he's a Master


Interesting debate, tho! Thanks for taking the time!

I need to work on the opening para - the desire to basically jump straight into the dialogue is obvious - I ain't fooling anyone with it, so I may's well just get right in there and start with the perfectly simple, perfectly direct "Hello?"

The Mad Hatter

cobsie wrote: »

Hawked phlegmatically: Whoever knew those two words would provoke such a response? It's very unpredictable, Boards!

Oh yeah - I was just throwing in my two cents on the popular phrase; I wouldn't see it as that big a deal.

To answer your queries - no, Mr. Hogan explicitly said he wouldn't leave the news in a message.

Oops - of course In my defence, I was very tired when I read it.

I think establishing a visual of the accident is necessary for the reader, as well as being more efficient, narratively. I can skip Joe asking how did it happen, and the explanation, and the reaction to that, etc etc.

I like moving action through dialogue, it is efficient for both characterisation and plot. I am reading Chekov at the moment and I did find myself half wishing for a time when dialogue was not expected to be anything as natural as the way people actually speak - he has his peasants speaking in whole paragraphs, expressing abstract thoughts - but he never loses his grip on the narrative drive, it is always heading somewhere...I guess that's why he's a Master

Fair enough - it's your story, so I can't say what's right, just what I'd do. I think I'd be inclined to try to create a little tension and mystery by not revealing straight away precisely what happened, but that all depends on whether you want the accident itself to be central to the story or just the thing that gets it started.

cobsie

The Mad Hatter wrote: »

Fair enough - it's your story, so I can't say what's right, just what I'd do. I think I'd be inclined to try to create a little tension and mystery by not revealing straight away precisely what happened, but that all depends on whether you want the accident itself to be central to the story or just the thing that gets it started.

Thanks for throwing in your two cents!!

The story that follows is a flashback to Joe's 10 year old self and the last day he spent with his father, who is a bit of a roughneck, charming but unreliable. It changes the tenor of the story (and this is what I want) to know from the outset that Eddie (the father) is dead. It's a bitter-sweet story, I guess. And true! ish...