Criticism?

TwoGallants

I've dabbled with short stories in the past, but I think this one might have potential for a novella. I'm well aware of my limitations (I struggle with the whole 'show, don't tell' thing). But there is a real story I want to tell here, with a convincing message. But as a start, what do you think? Am I on to something? Is it terrible? Cheers! (Its about 1,000 words so far)



There was a smell. It was a lingering odor that dominated his nostrils and forced him to sit up suddenly. From the vantage point he now commanded, he could see clothes scattered here and there across the floor. The smell, where did it come from? Why was it so aggressive? It was ridiculous. He leapt from his bed, his fat naked body grasping at the outstretched mess staring at him defiantly from their various places. Muttering violently, he discovered underwear, and two odd socks. He pulled on some stale trousers and a tee shirt and left his room.
The rest of the flat was in chaos. On the walls were the remnants of some particularly egregious pizza, his flatmates scattered here and there on the floor in a similar fashion to his clothes. At least he had the foresight to go to bed last night. Some semblance of reason must have remained. He gingerly found his way around the kitchen, tossing empty and half empty beer cans with the disgust it deserved. Most of the rims were full of ashes, overflowing happily and staining the long neglected carpet. He felt sick, hungover. Anxiety and restlessness began to torment him. The fear. A sudden urge to flee, to be gone, it was overwhelming. What was there here? Only chaos. A terrible sense of foreboding, he worried for a moment one of the men would wake up. Vaguely, in the back of his mind he was aware that he needed to go to work.
Out in the street, the world seemed incongruous with the thoughts rampaging maniacally in his head. Cablan wasn’t a pretty town, it wasn’t much of a town at all really. It was a town that some people worked in and some people shopped in, but beyond that it had very little charm. There were hundreds like it throughout Ireland, each as unlike each other but identical in its character. Valiant attempts were made to make it look pretty, the potted plants and well trimmed trees. The old townhouse, a great big derelict building and a favourite haunt of budding teenage alcoholics, remained its old callous self, staring grandly at everybody with the ghosts of long dead Anglo Irish aristocrats smiling arrogantly from its haunted window panes.
He stopped for a chicken fillet roll on the way, the little convenience store pumping out these ghastly monstrosities like a machine. The greasy servant, staring with contempt from beyond his display, the lust for life had long abandoned him. Fred felt queasy. The satisfaction derived from the French bread, coleslaw and fried chicken only temporarily relieving him from his miasma. With each bite he was compelled to roll the tin foil a little further down. Taking care not to drop any of the food, he remarked to himself its unlikely resemblance to rolling a condom back and forth. At this realization he felt unable to continue his meal, and threw the remainder in a bin.
When he finally made his way to work, he needed to clock in. Five minutes late, again. No sign of his manager. He changed into the white overalls they made the Deli people wear and went downstairs again. The supermarket was quiet, almost abandoned. The girl at the till, Siobhan, gave him a wave. She was ever so nice, so positive. He stunk. Not letting anyone get too close to him, for fear he would offend their nostrils like he had his own in the morning, he tried to go around the deli and sit in the big walk in fridge for a while, to calm down, as he was sweating profusely. Closing the door behind him, he helped himself to some cold meats stacked neatly in their little pop out trays. The sweat was now sticking to his face, the cold helping to undo the worst excesses of his torments, but doing nothing for the fluids consuming his face, sitting there like a film of slime he was unable to remove. He cursed himself for not having had a shower, and continued to eat the day old corned beef.
Then suddenly, with a force of violence he couldn’t comprehend, Adrian stormed in to the fridge. With a look of contempt he could hardly describe, he burst into his usual bluster. “What the **** are you doing here?”
Panic. Adrian wasn’t a manager but the bizarre 45 year old man had an irritating superiority complex, feeling that his increased years lended him a natural authority denied by his brusque manner and his incompetence.
“I was just…”
“Stop eating that you little ****, come with me.”
Fred followed Adrian out to the deli area and started to clean the fish display. The smell, so grotesque. Again, it invaded his nostrils and tormented him. The white overalls, which were tight and caused an irritation of skin against skin, began to drag a little. The little metal buttons kept popping out, and he needed to suck in his stomach in order to get them back in to place again. He felt insecure, and ashamed. The more he scrubbed with the useless yellow cloth the more he failed to accomplish anything. Circular motions, indicating effort but really just reflecting repetition, failed to fundamentally alter the oily and greasy nature of the stainless steel container. The ever increasing frequency with which he continued to clean tended only to enhance the greasiness and spread it further. Hot water achieved little, and harder chemicals – even the common household cleaners, such as fairy liquid – were strictly forbidden, perhaps the managers feared contamination, and thus prosecution, and thus failure. But for the grunts, the Fred’s, these tiny indignities were of no consequence. He scrubbed, he circled, and he wiped, and he accomplished nothing.
Adrian strolled over again. He had been packing out the fridges all morning and was tired.
“Why does this always take you so long? Christ but you are ****e boy”
Fred was used to such outpourings and he knew the worst thing he could do would be to rise to it. He muttered under his breath. Liam came to his rescue.
“Adrian, Patrick wants you to meet him in the office.”
When Adrian left, Liam made conversation. He was a funny lad. Around Fred’s age, he spoke to him like he was a younger brother. He felt fond for Fred, and maybe a little sorry for him. He spoke about nothing in particular, and promised he’d call round the flat again some weekend, because the last time ‘was mighty craic’. But Fred, incapable of dealing with this unseemly chirpiness, merely nodded.
“I’ll talk to you later when you’re not so hungover my man, take it easy!”
He walked off. Liam’s red hair was his defining characteristic, as he made his way down through the bread & cakes section he was like a big traffic light, for above all the stands he could clearly make out his long red hair bopping around hopelessly. The faint dance, the air of optimism that his very gait conveyed, all this disgusted Fred, and made him feel ever more disenchanted.

echo beach

It isn't terrible but it fails as a start because it doesn't make me want to read on. Nothing happens and there isn't even a strong hint that something is about to happen soon. Attention spans are short and unless you grab attention in the first couple of sentences the reader is lost.
It is the account, and a good account, of a man going to work with a hangover but that isn't what most people are interested in. There isn't anything to make me care if he sobers up.
I don't want to be harsh because I know how hard it is to put your work out for anybody to take potshots at but personally I would look for another point to start from.

TwoGallants

Its not a thriller though, he isn't doing exciting things, he is struggling to get by and survive. I agree though that its a little dreary. I'll keep working on it and try to make it more interesting I suppose. Thanks!

alfa beta

i think you sorta need to relax - don't try so hard with the descriptions - drop a few of the more dramatic adjectives here and there and maybe be more concise - eg the building at the end of one of the earlier paragraphs - all about long dead aristocrats and stuff - doesn't really fit, you know

i guess i like simple, easy-to-read sentences and i found a lot of what you'd written unnecessarily wordy - and that wordiness didn't really suit your main character.

here's an example - just so you know what I mean:

Your version:

'With each bite he was compelled to roll the tin foil a little further down. Taking care not to drop any of the food, he remarked to himself its unlikely resemblance to rolling a condom back and forth. At this realization he felt unable to continue his meal, and threw the remainder in a bin.'

Now I'd do something like this:

With each bite he found himself having to roll the wrapper down a little. Like a condom, he thought. But when he thought that, he couldn't eat any more. So he threw what was left in a bin.'

See, as a reader I stumble over things like 'he remarked to himself its unlikely resemblance...' it just doesn't sound right - maybe I'm just dumbing down though - so please ignore me if you prefer the tone of the original.

TwoGallants

Ah, ok. I can see better where you're coming from. The point of the book - which would be addressed later - is that Fred is this sincere, articulate and intelligent person trapped inside of a societal expectation and an outward appearance that defies his true character. The excessive wordiness and maybe even the purple prose serves a purpose in this instance.

But I definately take what you say on board. I suppose it isn't clear based only on a thousand word snippet.

echo beach

TwoGallants wrote: »

Ah, ok. I can see better where you're coming from. The point of the book - which would be addressed later - is that Fred is this sincere, articulate and intelligent person trapped inside of a societal expectation and an outward appearance that defies his true character.

It may be that because you have such a clear picture of Fred in your head that you forget the reader doesn't know all this. You haven't conveyed enough in that piece to make him come alive, which is something some writers can do in a few sentences.

One tip I read somewhere, maybe even on this forum, is 'Start the story as late as possible and finish as early as possible.' You may have started too early.

[-0-]

alfa beta wrote: »

i think you sorta need to relax - don't try so hard with the descriptions - drop a few of the more dramatic adjectives here and there and maybe be more concise - eg the building at the end of one of the earlier paragraphs - all about long dead aristocrats and stuff - doesn't really fit, you know

i guess i like simple, easy-to-read sentences and i found a lot of what you'd written unnecessarily wordy - and that wordiness didn't really suit your main character.

here's an example - just so you know what I mean:

Your version:

'With each bite he was compelled to roll the tin foil a little further down. Taking care not to drop any of the food, he remarked to himself its unlikely resemblance to rolling a condom back and forth. At this realization he felt unable to continue his meal, and threw the remainder in a bin.'

Now I'd do something like this:

With each bite he found himself having to roll the wrapper down a little. Like a condom, he thought. But when he thought that, he couldn't eat any more. So he threw what was left in a bin.'

See, as a reader I stumble over things like 'he remarked to himself its unlikely resemblance...' it just doesn't sound right - maybe I'm just dumbing down though - so please ignore me if you prefer the tone of the original.

I actually disagree, I prefer the original to your attempt.

alfa beta

[-0-] wrote: »

I actually disagree, I prefer the original to your attempt.

yeah - that's fair enough - i just feel when I read the op that there's too much 'author' in there in general, know what I mean? just feels a bit forced or something.

Look, I've probably stripped back that little example too much in trying to make that point.

But then again, as I say above, my reading preference is for short, snappy sentences (think Lee Child etc) so that's probably where I'm coming from.

Takes all sorts I guess - but I still feel there's a lot of room in the above for editing sentences and tightening them up so they flow a little better.

TwoGallants

[-0-] wrote: »

I actually disagree, I prefer the original to your attempt.

In what way? With due respect to the other post, are you saying mine is better or merely less terrible?

TerrorFirmer

I thought it was good. I agree to an extent with alfa beta, not that I'm saying his verison is better exactly, but its certainly more accessible, I think you need to uncomplicate some of your sentences a little. But all in all I actually really enjoyed it, unlike the other poster I felt compelled to know more - would have been better if this particular segment ended with Fred having to go to the managers office rather than Adrian, and having the anticipation being about what would be said up in the office - in my own head, I'm seeing it a little like the movie 'Intermission', with the two lads in the supermarket and their egotistical manager. That movie captured that hilarious dynamic that you've alluded to here with the whole Fred-Adrian thing perfectly.

TwoGallants

TerrorFirmer wrote: »

I thought it was good. I agree to an extent with alfa beta, not that I'm saying his verison is better exactly, but its certainly more accessible, I think you need to uncomplicate some of your sentences a little. But all in all I actually really enjoyed it, unlike the other poster I felt compelled to know more - would have been better if this particular segment ended with Fred having to go to the managers office rather than Adrian, and having the anticipation being about what would be said up in the office - in my own head, I'm seeing it a little like the movie 'Intermission', with the two lads in the supermarket and their egotistical manager. That movie captured that hilarious dynamic that you've alluded to here with the whole Fred-Adrian thing perfectly.

Thanks man. I gotta admit, some of the inspiration comes from Intermission but mostly from my own experiences working in a supermarket!