PatriciaDianne

Thanks guys. I keep adding the changes you suggest. If I keep polishing this rock eventually I'll be able to sell it. For some reason every time I redo this in my word document and copy into this editor, the line spacing screws up. All my paragraph double spaces go away. I'm tired of adding them back in so I hope you can tell where the paragraph changes are. Thanks again.

Betrayed

I jumped at the sound of the telephone.
“Hello. Yes, I’m fine,” I lied.
“Oh, I hate to hear that. I’ll get Jerry over there soon as I can find him. He's probably at the barn. I know, I'll try to get him to hurry. Yes, if you don't get that calf out soon you might loose it. I'll make sure he brings his ropes. Goodbye.”
Why can’t people just leave me alone? The only relief I get is sleep. Damn.
At 2:00 on a Sunday afternoon, I was still in bed with a two-day-old smell on my nightgown, hair matted, tongue thick. I creaked out of bed to the closet, fumbling for sweats and a coat to throw over myself against the harsh chill.
Now I’ll have to drive down to the barn, find Jerry and explain that Jim needs his help because his damn calf is coming out breech. Maybe that calf’l get lucky and die before it hits this damn March wind.
I was living my hell while Jerry was living his heaven.
Was it really twenty years ago since Jerry pursued me relentlessly, coming back and coming back, finally wearing me down until I married him? It was hard to believe how the tables had turned. Now he was healthy and in his prime and I was in the depths of a menopausal depressive nightmare, fat and tired and weary. The medicine that was supposed to help had made matters worse. How the hell could antidepressants that make you gain fifty pounds be sold as a way to make you feel better? Damn, gaining fifty pounds at my age would be enough to make any woman depressed if she was not already. I was resigned, sick as I was, to my pathetic fate. I had stopped fighting it.
Over the years Jerry assured me I was the only woman he'd ever loved or would ever love. Yet my situation was drastically different now. I no longer had the six-figure income or the Barbie doll figure he fell for all those years ago.
I dragged myself into the car and drove to the barn where Jerry was working.
My husband was living his dream: the farm, cattle, horses, and everything his heart desired. I took the early out package from my company and kept my end of the bargain. From the beginning of the marriage Jerry agreed to go where ever my career took us with the promise of living his gentleman farmer life style in our retirement years. Before I left the corporate job, I bought the land, built the house, and outfitted the farm. I kept my part of the bargain.
As I drove between the barns, I spotted a shiny hunter green Bronco behind Jerry's truck. Jerry slipped out from behind the barn door just before I reached the entrance.
"Whatcha' need?" he asked, clearly annoyed.
"Jim's wife called. Says he's got a cow having problems getting her calf out. He wants you to bring your ropes and come over as soon as you can. Says it's serious."
"I'll get over there soon as I can get loose." He started to slide back through the barn door.
"That's a nice looking Bronco. Whose is it?" I asked.
"Uh, it belongs to Tim's nephew. He's washing down a few things to get ready for next week."
"Hmm, it's a nice one."
Sensing something peculiar, I walked over peering through the window of the vehicle into the front seat.
"I thought Tim didn't have a pot to piss in. Where'd he get a vehicle like that?"
"He don't but his nephew does. His nephew let him borrow it."
Out of curiosity I peered into the front seat and spotted what appeared to be a designer bag.
"How unusual. Does his nephew carry a purse? What's the deal?"
A cold chill flowed through me.
"Nothing. Why don't you get back to the house and rest," he said with a look I did not know.
As I grabbed the handle and opened the Bronco door, I glared at the expensive looking handbag with the emblem of a duck on the clasp.
"Whose is this? What's going on?"
My throat tightening, I felt the pulse in my temples and blood flushing my cheeks.
"Nothin's goin' on, Diana. Go back to the house. I'll look in on you in a few minutes."
I was getting a sickening, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like how you feel right after having a baby, like there's a hole in your gut, a cavity that won't close up. The only rock I had left in my life was the belief that my husband was at least a friend. It was as if something was crumbling from under my feet.
Next to the handbag was a set of keys. I grabbed the keys from the front seat, spun around and dangled the keys in front of his Jerry's face.
"I want to know what the hell is going on! Whose truck is this? Whose purse is this? Whose keys are these?"
Jerry grabbed my hand, trying to force the keys from me, prying away my fingers one by one. As he striped the jagged metal edges through my fingers, a drop of blood oozed out where the metal sliced my skin. For the first time in all these years, he physically hurt me. I was stunned in disbelief as I looked into the wild eyes of a stranger.
"Gimme' those keys. Let'em go. Get back to the house and calm down. Get on back."
"No!"
Suddenly I was sobbing involuntarily. Then I began screaming hysterically. Looking back I remember a sensation coming from deep within my being, an overwhelming reverberation of the wails of all the women in all the world, even from Eve as she listened to Adam blame her for their folly, all the women who had ever been betrayed.
"What's happening? Are you throwing away everything I've worked for all these years? Have you gone mad? Do you think I will stand for this?"
"Give me those keys," he snarled and grabbed. “You’re makin’ a deal outta’ nothing. You’re obsessing again. Get back and take your medicine. You must notta‘ had your pills.”
For the first time in my life, I saw this man as the enemy. He was fighting me, literally and physically, on behalf of another woman and her anonymity. It was outrageous. It was unfathomable.
"This cannot be happening! This cannot be happening!” I screamed. “Please God let this not be happening. Let me wake up!"
It was not a dream. It was not even a nightmare. It was reality being jammed down my throat and choking the life out of me. I could not breathe.
Determination, pride, defiance, feelings I thought I had lost forever, welled up in me. Like an erupting volcano, I was poised to spew hot lava destroying everything in my path.
"Where is she? Where the hell is she? I want to know."
I surged toward the barn door.
"Stay out," he yelled. "Just go home."
“I am home. I will not leave," I heaved. "You might as well bring her out here. I am not going anywhere until I find out what the hell is going on!”
He slithered back through the door into the barn. Moments later, two images emerged. It was surreal, like a fade in shot from a movie. The veil of darkness dissolved and two people, my husband and that woman appeared, the woman every married woman in the community dreaded to see anywhere near their husband.
"It's not what you think," she smirked. "We're just friends. We've been friends for years. I just stopped by to say hello. He said when he saw you drive up you'd be jealous. He said to walk back inside and wait, that you'd be gone in a minute. He didn't want to upset you, you being so sick and all."
The sarcastic, sardonic, side of me kicked in. “Don’t patronize me you bitch. Your reputation precedes you. Friends? I didn't know he had any friends other than the ones I bought and paid for. I don't remember making this purchase."
"I hope the two of you will be very happy. He's good in bed, as I'm sure you already know, but otherwise useless. From what I hear, your husband has a good job. Since you’ve got him fooled, I highly recommend just keeping this one for stud service. He's all yours, sister."
The voice I heard coming out of my mouth was of a person I knew from the past. It was the voice of a strong woman, an independent woman, a woman to be reckoned with.
I stood tall, threw back my shoulders, turned on my heels and started back to my car. It took every cell in my body to gather the energy to crank that car and drive back to the house. Deep heaves of soul wrenching wails were now coming from me. I was turned inside out from the pain. All my inner parts, my delicate places, my sacred regions at once exposed to light and grit and dirt and acid. I burned. I seethed. My creation had turned on me, a Frankenstein, and there was now nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide.
Numbness set in. Hot passion turned to ice. Suddenly I was the eye of the hurricane, realizing in a flash of insight, I could determine the path of the storm. The emotional tearing of the flesh, at once grotesquely bloody and morbid, left me with a sense of sudden freedom. Emotional surgery extricated the cancer of caring from me.
I was at once devastated and empowered. The albatross was gone. He was on his own. He could live or die. I did not care. The umbilical cord cut, I was now severed from attachment to this perpetual fetus, no longer saddled with this symbiotic relationship.
It was his choice. He fucked it up. I was guilt free. My pride aside, I actually felt better.
Perhaps this was the one and only and best gift he ever gave me.

Floris

PatriciaDianne

Thank you very much for the encouragement. It means a lot.

jlstratton

PatriciaDianne,

I am submitting a critique for you below. There are a bunch of suggestions in it but I write them as a reader. Please take these only at face value knowing they are only thoughts.

Overall, I thought the story was a good read and know there was a message there waiting to get out. I think more background might help drive the story more. I'll elaborate as I go through each part.

I startled at the sound of the telephone, rousing me from my coma-like sleep.
“Hello. Yes, I’m fine,” I lied. “Oh, I hate to hear that. I’ll get Jerry over there soon as I can find him.”

I'm thinking you might have said: I Jumped at the sound ... or I was startled at the sound ...

Also: telephone, rousing me from my coma-like sleep. for more visual impact, maybe a word like tearing or jolting might work instead of rousing.

Next:
Now I’ll have to get up, put on some clothes, drive down to the barn, find Jerry and explain that Jim needs his help because he’s got a calf coming out breech and he needs help pulling it. Maybe that calf’l get lucky and die before it hits this damn March wind.

I wonder if you could move the explanation of why jim needs help into the first paragraph when the character answers the phone and add the part about the calf dying in the March wind as a thought or dialogue tag in that first paragraph.

Along this paragraph, I have to mention something very important. Your character has to put on some clothes and find Jerry. I assume Jerrry is the husband and Jim is the friend but six paragraphs down, you write that "Jimmy" pursued me. Later in the story, you say: "Jerry's got a cow having problems getting her calf out ....
I don't know if anyone else has mentioned this to you but a reader will see it and if the reader realizes the mistake, they will stop reading immediately. Be careful to keep your character's names correct.

Over the years he assured me I was the only woman he'd ever loved or would ever love. Yet my situation was drastically different now. I no longer had the six-figure income or the Barbie doll figure he fell for all those years ago. And the sparkle in my eye left long ago.
Just a little thing but since you use some illiteration, this could read: The sparkle in my eyes was nothing more than a dull shine at best or: was now a dull shine at best.

As I drove between the barns, I spotted a shinny (Should be shiny) hunter green Bronco behind Jimmy's truck. Jimmy slipped out the barn door just before I reached the entrance.

"He don't but his nephew does. His nephew let him borrow it."
I like the use of jargon here with "Don't" but make sure you can pull it off here by adding into the language the characters normally speak.

I got a cold chill but I couldn't quickly calculate what it meant.
Here you might say something like: A cold chill suddenly ran down my spine, although I didn't know why. This is just a thought as the sentence might have better subject verb agreement.

Opening the Bronco door, I grabbed the expensive looking handbag with the emblem of a duck on the clasp.
This sentence seems out of place and I don't know why she decided to open the door. It may read more clear as: Inside the Bronco, I saw a handbag with a duck emblem on the clasp. It looked expensive and I started wondering who would have a handbag like that. I pulled open the Bronco door and grabbed the bag inside.
"Whose is this? What's going on?"

The only rock I had left in my life was the belief that my husband was at least a friend. Something was crumbling under my feet.
Something should be something, like earth or ground.

He grabbed my hand to force the keys from me, trying to pry away my fingers one by one. As he striped (stripped) the jagged metal edges through my fingers, it hurt me. For the first time in all these years, he physically hurt me. I was stunned in disbelief as I looked into the eyes of a stranger.
The last part in red might have more impact if you were to say: "cut my hand -- blood oozed out of my clinch fist" or something. This will let the reader feel real pain and associate with the protagonist better.

Suddenly I was sobbing involuntarily. I was screaming hysterically.
I was a little lost on this one. Maybe she was sobbing and then screaming or both sobbing and screaming at the same time.

Later on in the story, the other woman comes out of the barn and tells Dianne that she is just a friend. If I was in this situation, I would want to believe this and would have to be convinced otherwise. So, something should give her away. Maybe her lipstick is smeared. Maybe she has hay stuck in her hair or maybe her blouse is buttoned wrong. You know how when someone is in a hurry and they don't get their buttons lined up so the collar is off.

When Dianne is talking to the woman, she says: "From what I hear, your husband has a good job. Does Dianne know this woman? If she knows the woman than talk about it as soon as she comes out of the barn.

In closing, as a reader I am left to ask. Where does Dianne go from here? What happens? Was everything in her name so her husband gets nothing but the other woman? Is there revenge? Does this change Dianne's life? Is she stronger, more empowered in new and exciting aspects of her life.

One last thing. In the story, Jerry tells Dianne at one point to go back to the house and take her pills. He asks if she did not take her pills. Is Dianne sick? As a reader, I would like to know this. If she was sick in some way, maybe her sickness will go away when the oppressive weight of her one-sided relationship is lifted and that is where her new life and empowerment comes from.

I hope I didn't cut too deep with this. Just remember that I am an amateur and these are only observations. I thought your story was great and I was able to read the whole thing through the first time without stopping. Best of luck with the story.

JL Stratton

jlstratton

Oops. Forum logged me out and I had to log back in. Accidentally posted twice. Sorry.

PatriciaDianne

Thank you very much. You have given me several really good suggestions. I am glad you liked it.

VNW

This is a good story and worth your efforts to continue to polish it.

"jlstratton" did you a great service in pointing out a few inconsistencies and areas that need shoring up - I think he was right on target with all of his comments.

I would like to add two minor ones

First, you have separated each line of dialogue from the action of the speaker whereas I think you should be linking them together. For example: You write

"Hmm, it's a nice one."

I walked over peering through the window into the front seat.

I think it might be more effective to cimbine these into something like:

"Hmm, it's a nice one," I said as I peered through the window into the front seat.

Second, I feel that the 3 paragraphs toward the end which describe her anguish should be tightened up into one powerful paragraph. You use some really great, strong descriptions to talk about her feelings but I think you go on a bit too much (which actually dilutes the strength of the emotions). Maybe pick the most powerful mix of those feelings and add some physical signs of the anguish.

I also want to add that I admire your ability to conjure powerful words/phrases which instantly hit home. For example: your hell & his heaven, the umbilical cord, etc. But because of the power of some of your words, I think you need to be careful not to water them down with additional repetition.

Good luck. And remember that I also am just an amateur making personal observations.

PatriciaDianne

Thank you so much. You guys are helping me polish this rock so that perhaps I can sell it. If you would be so kind as to give me advice on what you think could be the best choices of phrases to cut from the end. I'm afraid I have looked at it so much that I am so invested in most of the words it makes it hard for me to be objective. Thank you for the encouragement.

VNW

Wow, you work fast. Your revised version was posted while I was preparing my comments on your earlier version. You can disregard my two minor points--you're way ahead of me, you addressed them both. Your revised version is very, very good. Again, I applaud your skill with powerful language. I think you're nearly there now.

There are a few minor clean-ups you could do but they may be better done after letting it sit for a bit. Examples: still need to change shinny to shiny; a few long sentences filled with commas could be broken up.

OzzyShiraz

Jiminies...where to begin? I must thank you, first of all, for giving such an open perspective....I´d been having the Dickens of a time figgering out women´s perspective...still have, but, nay, that´s another ball of wax, innit?

Jeez, but such lovely perspectives you present.....

I really liked how you talked about birth, when you said there was ¨a hole in your gut, a cavity that won´t close up¨

Crimini, I just wish I could understand that kind of thing so I could write it properly in my stories that no one will ever read.

Nice.....super nice....I liked this tale a lot.

PatriciaDianne

Thank you so very much. Your encouragement makes me very happy. I love the story you wrote about the witch. I could never give you any helpful comments because I sure as hell don't have a clue about how men think. But thanks for the hints!

jlstratton

PatriciaDianne,

Wow, marked improvement over the original! The whole thing flows better for me as a reader. There are only two things that jumped out at me:

Jerry grabbed my hand, trying to force the keys from me, prying away my fingers one by one. As he striped the jagged metal edges through my fingers, a drop of blood oozed out where the metal sliced my skin.

I know it seems like a little thing, but the word should still be spelled "stripped"

The other thing is that the other woman appears and Dianna goes on to imply the she knows the woman as a previous friend. It throws me that Dianna doesn't recognize her in words, and call her by name. It seems like all of a sudden, she knows her.

Overall great read. I only say this as a reader but I enjoyed it and would read more of your material from this example.

JL Stratton