Jenaisis

Nonfiction

I am hoping to grow into a better writer, but at this point, I need to hone my skills a bit more. Any advice would be extremely helpful.

Thanks for your time!!!
Jenasis
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The Monster
“This is it!” I thought, as Mrs. Ayscue plopped the plastic red report folder on my desk--the first research paper I had ever had to do. I had gotten to pick my topic, which of course had to be dolphins; that was my favorite animal back in the third grade. I remember gathering as much information as I could about dolphins: the different kinds, what they liked to eat, and how they were like humans. I even cut pictures out of my cousin’s encyclopedia; I didn’t have money for copy machines and the Internet was still a distant thought.
I looked down at the three-pages of handwritten genius and gulped. I flipped to the last page with cautious zest and there it was—a shiny red A+. Yep, a one hundred. Perfect. Well, I was no bragger, but by golly, a one hundred on a research paper was something to jump up and down about. I just couldn’t wait to show my dad.
The bus ride home went by so slowly. My friend Samantha would not stop talking about whatever boy she thought was cute that week; that’s all sixth graders ever talked about. I was a shy third grader with a shiny red report that was better than any boy. Needless to say, I tuned her out. After dropping all of the kids off, the bus driver finally pulled up to Vineyard Ln., which now looked like it had stretched about one more mile. I jumped off the bus and ran home, dust and rocks flying.
I walked into that old rusty brown trailer with more excitement inside of me than Mexican jumping beans, but dad wasn’t home yet. I’d just have to wait. I cleared a pile of fresh line-dried clothes from a spot on the couch and waited. It wasn’t long before I heard the Ga-Gunk, Ga-Gunk, Ga-Gunk of that old TransAm engine. My dad was a big muscle-car fanatic, so whenever he got a beat up car, he’d rebuild the motor and soup it up. Well, that car’s engine could be heard from a mile away, and my heart began to beat along with its rhythm. I couldn’t help but feel the lump that was crawling up my throat.
The car door slammed and I heard his heavy, size fourteen footsteps on the porch. He opened the unfinished, mismatched door and stepped in. Now, my dad, he smiles all the time like I do, so his large six foot 2 inch stature usually isn’t scary, but this day, I could tell he was mad. The plastic report I was holding was slowly slipping from my sweaty hands. Dad looked at me. No, it wasn’t dad that day--it was the monster. Sometimes, it would break free of that smiling face, snarling and clawing at every inch of happiness within its reach. Dad had no control of the vicious thing; it would just take over his body like a werewolf in the moonlight.
“What are you doing sitting on all those clean clothes?” he hissed, through gritted teeth. I knew better than to answer. Before I knew it, he yanked me up by my arm and started pushing me down the hallway. “You think you can just sit around the house? Huh? You are just like your lazy ass mama.” He twisted me around so that I could see his face—his jaws clenching, the dark brown of his eyes flashing, and those perfect white teeth chomped together. The monster was out again. I just stood there, cowering like a lost puppy, waiting for him to strike. As I looked down to the crusty worn carpet of the hallway it happened. His strong calloused hand struck my baby soft face and snapped my head to the left. “You are just like your mother!” he repeated over and over as the monster compelled him to pummel me. I didn’t know what to do. There was really nothing I could do. I just curled up into the usual ball, as tight as my little seven-year-old malnourished body could crunch, and tried to escape in my mind.
To this day, I can never quite remember when the pummeling stopped, or when he stormed out of the house. All I remember is trying to pick my tiny bruised body up off the floor. You know, it’s a really sad thing when something bad overshadows the good; I look back to that day now and all the joy, excitement, and pride that bubbled up inside of me for receiving a good grade for all of my hard work was suddenly wiped away and crumpled by the fleeting swipe of the monster’s giant hand.

Eli Cash

One thing I would ask if we were in a workshop together and you brought this in is: What do you hope to accomplish with this story?

Do you want to use it for catharsis? Do you want to publish it? If so, if you take it into a publisher and they ask what's unique and individual about it and who it speaks to, what will you say?

The summation in the last paragraph seems patronizing to the reader, in my opinion. If that's the point you want to communicate in your story, hopefully you can tell the story in an illustrative and clear enough fashion that they get the message without needing to have it spelled out for them at the end.

Also, is "You know, it’s a really sad thing when something bad overshadows the good;" a compelling and original enough a concept to base a story or essay around? Or is it pretty commonly understood?

Obviously, that's a pretty crappy thing that happened to your character, or you if it's a memoir-type thing. I guess what I want to know is, what are you trying to accomplish by telling about it? Inspire others in similar situations? Warn parents against wanton cruelty? Obviously, it's a powerful anecdote, I just think if you more carefully define what you're trying to accomplish with it you'll convey it more powerfully.

Good luck.

__________________

Egab

I'm not having much time, so without further ado:

"...first research paper I had ever had to do...."
Unnecesarry repetition, imho. First research paper I had to do, or ....I ever had to do.

Uhh, Im guessing English is not your native language? If that is the case, that can be behind some of your writing issues. Im not a native English speaker, and I see myself doing pretty dumb things regarding grammar and sentence structure.

"I had gotten to pick my topic.." I believe thats not a really sound solution. Perhaps "It was up to me to pick the topic..." would be better.

"that was my favorite animal" I'm having trouble here, while im not satsified with the word 'that' referring to animals, I don't think 'who' would be a perfect use either. But nothing else comes to my mind.

"I tuned her out" I would rather use 'tuned her down' here.

"..with more excitement inside of me than Mexican jumping beans.." eh? Sorry. It must be getting late, but I find hard to dechyper that. Maybe she has more excitement inside her than in rabid mexican jumping beans?

"I’d just have to wait." You use past tense in the other parts of the writing, so I assume you just mistyped here.

Now comes a good part, when the father arrives. I really liked that! Good job.

The ending's good too. I like the second part better. Good choice of story. A little work here an there should tidy it up.

In response to the post by Eli Cash: The writing came to me immediatly as a memoir of sorts. A grown up women reflecting on her past, maybe telling someone about her childhood. It definetly brought up my own childhood memory's. Sure, they were nothing like this. I wasn't beaten up (regularly). But I think everyone knows, what it feels like when something bad overshadows the good things in life.

__________________
Life is but a dream, and we all wake up dead.

My stuff : "On a night of full moon"
http://www.writingforums.com/short-s...full-moon.html

Jenaisis

Thanks for your post. I definitely understand what you are saying. It's tough to step outside and see your own writing in a "purpose" sort of light. It is a true story, so I really felt the need (unfortunately for the reader) to drive home many of the mundane and "no kidding" facts of the situation. Your advice was eye-opening, and I am very thankful!!!!

Fossy

What I really enjoyed about this story (not that I enjoyed what happened to you) but what I enjoyed was how you wrote it from a childs perspective, with a childs way of speaking. Then near the end, switched to a more adult way of expressing yourself. I thought that was pretty clever.

Others have commented on the way you spoke in the beginning, but I heard a child speaking, and that resonated well with me.

Good work in my opinion.

__________________
Originally posted by Sam Winchester.
Fossy's good too. She gives good advice.

Jenaisis

I'm glad you enjoyed it. To be honest, my heart sinks every time I check for new posts because I've never really been critiqued in this way. It is like bearing your soul so others can just walk all over it. lol It's nice to get positive feedback for a change--and yes, I was going for the child-like language. Thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings.

Egab

Just don't get yourself addicted to comments : ) (I had been in the past, on other forums....) And remember, giving is almost as fun as recieving.

Reading now what Fossy said, I guess the change of maturity can be noticed. The first part can be interpreted as the little girl being the story teller, when the more positive things are in show. but when the 'monster' comes, the mature, grown up woman speaks to us. Thats the way I see it now. (After 27 hours of being awake, I might add.....)

Sad to hear it's a true story.....

__________________
Life is but a dream, and we all wake up dead.

My stuff : "On a night of full moon"
http://www.writingforums.com/short-s...full-moon.html

The Backward OX

Hey Tar-Heeler

Y’all pay attention now. If you want to put a story across as true, make sure you have all your ducks lined up - make sure it's consistent. When you first got home, you “walked into that rusty old brown trailer”. Later, you had your daddy storming “out of the house”.

__________________

Fossy

When I got my first line by line critique, I thought 'shit' I'm so bad'; then half way through it I thought 'shit' I can learn from this'; then at the end I thought, 'shit, how cool for someone to take the time to do this for me.'

So don't be afraid to post, but don't take the comments personally. Remember if only 1% of people like your work then - duh I can't remember the maths, but it's heaps of people anyway - lol. I read it on here somewhere, hehe.

Yeah, I forgot to mention about the house and the hallway thing in a rusty trailer.

__________________
Originally posted by Sam Winchester.
Fossy's good too. She gives good advice.

The Backward OX

Off Topic

Yeah, that nickname was spot-on.

__________________

Fossy

That's good - like it.

__________________
Originally posted by Sam Winchester.
Fossy's good too. She gives good advice.

ieuan

I read it, recognised the scenario and sighed. You told it well for the most part, the spelling and grammar neat, no fault there. Towards the end you used 'tiny bruised body' a cleche and I knew I had been had.

It's a tear jerker of the worse kind, from the mind of a want-to-be writer. It wasn't a first hand account at all, and why should it be. If you were the victim then you would have used savage writing, you would have been screwed up in some way, snappy and viscious maybe. It would do for prep school but in the real world people recognise the truth very soon.

That's my opinion you understand and I accept that I may be entirely wrong. But that is what your writing brought out in me, my honest but possibly flawed opinion.

regards

ieuan