First draft of something.. maybe? Feedback appreciated.

hcass

This is the first draft of a novel I am (kind of) writing. It is about a woman in her late twenties who suffers with an eating disorder. She binge eats and then diets to counteract the binges. Anyways, it is very crude but I'm hoping some of you can help me see if it is going anywhere, if it's any good and what changes you think I should make.

Binge.

A job around the corner from a bakery was never going to work for me. I should be glad I got let go. This could be a fresh start for me. I’ve been waiting for a good time to start my diet again. This is it. This is the beginning of the new me. And I’ll have so much time to exercise now that I’ve no job. A little bit of redundancy money too. No need to panic just yet.

I have to pass it one more time. The Bakery, I mean. I might as well pop in and get something sweet for the bus ride home. Another thing I will not miss. Standing at bus stops in the pissing of rain waiting on a 41c that seems to ignore the timetable and just arrive whenever it feels like it. The next job I get will not involve buses. I want to be able to walk to work. So no bakery around the corner and within walking distance; not too much to ask.

I’m standing in the bakery looking at all of these delicious cakes. I want them all. I can’t make up my mind. Would it be strange to ask for one of everything? They wouldn’t know it was all for me. Would they? I feel a sudden rush of hunger; for cream and sweets and chocolate icing. I can taste the tanginess of the lemon tart that sits beside the chocolate éclair. I picture myself shovelling the pastry treat into my gob. I start to salivate. This is bad. I want them all.

“Umm, can I have one of everything?”

The girl looks at me and smiles, asks me if I want a box to carry them all. I nod and fidget and look at my cakes. My beautiful cakes. I am going to eat them on the bus but keep some for later. Maybe I will give one to Niall? Will I? No. There might be one I don’t like. He could have that.

She puts them into the box and begins to wrap it in paper. I panic. I don’t want to have to unwrap it. I need them now.

“P-please don’t wrap them up.” I splutter.

She stops and smiles again – does she know?

“They’re for work and eh… I need them not wrapped cos eh… I’ll just be taking them out now, like. Ye know?”
“Sure.”

She knows. She definitely knows. But I’ll never see her again. I pay and leave with all of the cakes. I’m a pig; I’m a disgusting fat pig. I should throw them in the bin. There’s a bin here now, coming up – I could just toss them and then they’d be gone and I’d never… Ok passed the bin, cakes are still in my hand. I balance the box on one arm and flip open the lid. I pick at a bit of chocolate brownie. I shove it in my mouth, devouring it. I stick my hand in the box again and grab some more brownie – a bigger piece this time. I scoff it in one go. Jesus, it tastes good… Hand goes back into the box. More brownie. By the time I get to the bus stop I have eaten all of the brownie and started on the lemon tart.

My life is a mix of eating and not eating. I get cravings and I respond. I feel guilty and I respond. One week I am sipping on Cabbage Soup and gnawing sticks of celery, the next I am gorging on handfuls of Toffee Popcorn and Peanut M&Ms, while guzzling chocolate milk. Sometimes the not eating becomes easy and I can stretch it out for a couple of weeks, maybe even three. But when I crash. Well, I crash. Bad. I can’t pass a chipper. I order take away every night of the weekend. Whole loaves of bread will be destroyed; spread thickly with butter, dolloped with a variety of jams, and if I’m feeling particularly gross, drowned in honey and sprinkled with sugar sticks and vermicelli. I’ll eat chocolate croissants for breakfast, washed down with cappuccinos doused in chocolate powder and sugar. Later on I’ll dine on donuts - donuts with custard, donuts with strawberry frosting, donuts with toffee syrup. I’ll eat and eat and never fill up. I’ll scrape the sticky residue from the tinfoil, empty the bag of the crumbs, lick the shiny crisp packet clean.

Then I’ll hide in my room and cry and wonder how I am going to stop. I’ll swear it is the end. That it won’t happen again. From Monday I swear to be good. To be healthy.

Das Kitty

I think it's a great start. You present the character and there is something she wants that will drive the story. I like how you tread a fine line with her. She's so so close to being grotesque, but you put this tiny edge of vulnerability to keep us just about with her. A lot of people would pile on the "poor mise" with a character like her, when in fact what you've done fits really well with her compulsion. She pushes all the negative thoughts away before they even have a chance to take root, she saves them up for later.

Very nice.

I'd be interested to know where the meat of the novel will be, but you've got a great character here.

hcass

Thank DK - Plot has always been my weakness. I can do characters but then what to do with them?? AHHHHHHH!

Thank you so much for feedback

Das Kitty

Play with her, torture her and see what becomes of it. Destroy the thing that matters most to her. Trap her with some other character who hates her. Take away her control over an important aspect of her life.

For a novel you'll probably need a nice few characters so you could start by sketching out a load of them before you send the fur flying.

EileenG

What is she most afraid of?

Do it to her.

alfa beta

i love it

hcass

Thank you all for your ideas - I am always threatening to write a book but lately it has consumed me.

I will torture her so Cheers.

Thanks Alfa Beta - you rule!