Coping With It (Novel In Progress) - Writers Forum

Necromortis · 04-10-2008, 08:52 PM

So here's the revamped version of my novel. The original was posted in the Fiction section (titled 'Untitled Novel, WIP' or something like that), but I moved it over here after a total rewrite because I'd really love critiques and comments. I'm not going to ask people to focus on anything in particular, because any comments/critiques on things that I could improve would be greatly appreciated. Of course, any positives would be nice as well. I'm not really sure what my strong points as a writer are (ditto for my weak points), so maybe I can get a few comments regarding that.

So anyway, like I said, I totally re-wrote the beginning of the story based on the comments I got in the other thread, as well as my personal feelings on the story. Another bonus - the rewrite got me jazzed on the story again, so I'm really hoping to write more in the near future.

So I'll be posting the novel up here, chapter by chapter. Here's the first one:

Coping With It

Chapter One

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was being restrained by eight pairs of hands, despite the fact that I wasn’t even fighting to get away.

I was completely confused. I couldn’t understand the eyes of the people in the dining hall. They were full of loathing, pity, and fear rolled into one big ball and left to rot. I could already tell that they would haunt me. Even though I had no idea what was going on, I didn’t open my mouth. Every time I thought about it, I saw my classmates. I saw the looks in their eyes. Their terror was gradually being replaced with confusion now.

Welcome to the party. I took some solace in the fact that I wasn’t the only person who had no idea what was going on.

And then I saw him. Dave, my sister’s boyfriend, lay sprawled in a pool of what looked like blood.

And then everything came back. All at once. I remembered sitting down at the lunch table, poking around at the excuse for food that the school cafeteria served us. I saw my sister out of the corner of my mind’s eye, standing in line with her boyfriend. They were arguing about something petty; Dave backhanding my sister in line.

But what I remembered the most was how not a single student did anything. Most of them didn’t even look up. There weren’t any teachers around to impress with heroism. It obviously wasn’t anything new or shocking. My muscles tensed at the memory, and I felt the people restraining me become more alert.

I remembered getting up from the table, my vision draped with a film of pale red. As I moved closer to Dave, the red got darker. Then it turned black, and my memory ends.

I blacked out? I’d never been unconscious before, but looking at Dave’s mangled face, something told me I hadn’t fainted. I felt myself being dragged away, but I my eyes remained fixated on Dave. I was hardly aware of my sister’s horrified eyes on me, even the looks from the rest of the lunch room faded to the edges of my tunnel vision.

The full gravity of my situation didn’t actually hit me until I’d been escorted away from the lunch room. My parents were on their way. Talk of expulsion and legal repercussions filtered through my daze, and I my head snapped up. Someone asked me what I thought I was doing. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t even remember doing whatever it was I did to Dave.

But he deserved it. Whatever it was.

* * * * *

I stared at the plaque at the desk. Dr. John Parker, PhD stared at me. I finally looked up.

“I’m not crazy.” I couldn’t be crazy. Crazy was the thing that the people on the street corners were. Talking to themselves, rambling on for hours about nothing. I was a high school junior. There was nothing wrong with me. But at the back of my head, a cynical voice whispered something about being in denial.

“You gave Dave three broken ribs, a broken cheekbone and nose, and minor lacerations in various places. And you don’t remember any of it. You just remember blacking out. Maybe not crazy, but people don’t generally have random fits of violence like that,” Dr. Parker said.

I’d already been in his office twice before. The first session was to discuss exactly what happened. I think he was disappointed that I couldn’t remember the incident in and of itself. I probably made his job about ten times harder. After that first session, he claimed he’d done some research about what I had. Looking around at the books that littered his office, I could believe it. But he’d discovered nothing about my ‘condition.’ That’s what I called it. Not a disease. Definitely not a disorder. Just a condition.

During the second session, he’d quizzed me, asking me various questions to see if he could form a basic mental profile. The study had been inconclusive – I wasn’t depressed, I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t drink. I didn’t see people who weren’t there, I didn’t hear voices. The quiz ruled out most of his ideas. I didn’t experience a substance induced psychotic episode. I didn’t experience dementia or delirium. In all respects, I was a normal teenager.

The closest disorder that he could find was Intermittent Explosive Disorder. The only problem was the temporary amnesia and blacked out vision. Dr. Parker explained that there were no recorded cases of IED where the patient couldn’t remember the attack. At the end of that session, he explained that he had to consult with other psychiatrists before prescribing me medication.

And so I was back for a third session.

“-cided to start you on Lamictal.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Dr. Parker smiled. “I said that we’re going to treat this as Intermittent Explosive Disorder, and we’ve decided to start you on Lamictal. It’s an anticonvulsant often prescribed for IED.”

I nodded. It made sense. In the past few days, I’d had a lot of time to think, and in typical human fashion, I’d gravitated to how my condition could affect my life. The things that I’d come up with were not encouraging. I took the prescription that he pushed across his desk and smiled.

“Thanks a lot, I hope it works.” I felt my lips twitch upward slightly.

“I think that’s a consensus held by quite a few people,” Dr. Parker replied, still smiling.

I stood and shook his hand, and thanking him once more, left his office. In my perverted logic, I was actually looking forward to being able to go back to school. Being allowed back onto campus would signify that my life had returned back to normal. I looked at the slip of paper in my hand and started laughing. Doctor’s scrawl, I thought. I wonder if any doctor actually has legible handwriting?

* * * * *

I walked into my house after picking up my prescription and strolled into the kitchen. I put the bottle of pills on the counter and went into the fridge to scrounge. I ended up with half of a BLT and a glass of lemonade. Not bad really.

As I sat down at the counter, my mom walked in. The smile on my face immediately died when I saw her expression.

“What happened?”

My mom’s eyes flashed. “You’ve been asked to leave Carlton,” she said. Her voice carried across the room.

Shit.

“Asked to leave? As in, it won’t go on my permanent record?” I asked. I really should have been worried about other things. My condition and how it would affect my life at public school perhaps. Instead I was worried about getting into college.

“I just got back from a meeting with the principal of Belton High. You start on Monday.”

“That’s the day after tomorrow Mom.”

She sighed. “I know that, but we had to make this quick. Like you said, your record depends on it.”

I thought about my friends who hadn’t returned my calls in the past six days. They didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. They were probably terrified that I’d turn on them next. I thought about the looks the students at Carlton gave me as I was herded out of the dining hall. The looks of terror mixed with revulsion. I shuddered.

“You know, maybe switching schools won’t be that bad,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone else. My mom nodded.

Thanks to anyone who read this. Please, if you did read it, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be really in depth (I realize that people do have lives and time is limited), although the more in depth the comment, the better. I'd be more than happy to read anything in return for a read, seems only fair.

I'll be back to answer any questions anyone has periodically. And expect Chapter Two sometime soon as well.

Thanks a bunch,
~Christian

babeonownbike · 04-10-2008, 09:32 PM

Quote:

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was being restrained by eight pairs of hands, despite the fact that I wasn’t even fighting to get away.

I was, actually, completely confused. I couldn’t understand why people kept giving me those looks. Those looks of loathing, pity, and fear rolled into one big ball and left to rot. I could already tell that those looks would haunt me. Even though I had no idea what was going on, I didn’t open my mouth. Every time I thought about it (what?), I saw my classmates (are they the "people" [suggests strangers] you referenced in the first sentence of the paragraph?). I saw their eyes. The terror was gradually being replaced with confusion now.

I'm afraid I really didn't make it any further. I'm not sure if the narrator was confused or terrified, but I was definitely confused.

Necromortis · 04-10-2008, 09:38 PM

Thanks. Let me clarify - the repetition of 'those looks' was intentional. And yeah, the classmates are the 'people' referenced in the first sentence. The narrator is confused, the classmates are the one's who have the terror being replaced with confusion.

I changed that sentence to 'Their terror was gradually being replaced with confusion now.' I think that might clear some stuff up.

Thanks for reading. It's a shame you didn't read further, because I think the very next sentence could have cleared that up a bit for you.

Cheers,
~Christian

babeonownbike · 04-10-2008, 11:46 PM

Christian, in fairness to you I read through the balance of your story. It's what I'd want for my own posts

I can't say your next sentence cleared it up for me though. Mentally I was trying to picture the scene and found myself "looking around" to see who the other party was. With your explanation I now know, but I still find it confusing in your story.

If it was intentional to repeat 'those looks' three times, I assume it was also intentional to repeat 'remembered' four times in one paragraph. But it doesn't add to the story. It's distracting filler. You dropped this 'technique' after the break and it improved the readability dramatically.

You tend to use more words than are necessary. For instance: I’d already been in his office twice before. would be better as 'I had been here twice already.'

After that first session, he claimed he’d done research in his giant books that littered his office.
I stumbled over this sentence because I doubt a doctor would claim 'he'd done research in his giant books that littered his office.' You need to re-order these thoughts to attribute the description to the narrator and not the doctor's claim.

Don't forget to name your public high school!

A little bumpy to read but all in all a good idea.

Necromortis · 04-11-2008, 12:17 AM

Thanks a bunch for giving it a complete read through. After reading it through again, I've rewritten it a little bit, mainly paying attention to the repetition at the beginning. Course, you were right. It reads much better now. I'll edit my original post in a few seconds to incorporate the changes I made.

Again, thanks again for the critique. Everyone, keep them coming *smiles*

~Christian

babeonownbike · 04-12-2008, 05:18 AM

Necro - I like it more, but it could still be so much better.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Necromortis

The first thing I noticed when I regained consciousness were the eight pairs of hands restraining me, despite the fact I wasn’t struggling to get away.

I was completely disoriented. I didn't understand the emotions I read in the eyes of the other students in the dining hall. They were full of loathing, pity, and fear rolled into one big ball and left to rot. Even then I knew their eyes would haunt me for a long time. I didn’t open my mouth. I didn't protest, or try to defend myself. I observed. The level of intensity in the rooms seemed to ease, and I noticed how, as it did so, their terror was gradually replaced with confusion of their own.

Welcome to the party. I took some solace in the fact that I was no longer the only person who had no idea what was going on.

That's when I saw him. Dave, my sister’s boyfriend, lay sprawled in a pool of what looked like blood.

Jade M · 04-12-2008, 05:52 AM

Delete/edit is in red
Comments are in green

Quote:

Originally Posted by Necromortis

Coping With It

Chapter One

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was being restrained by eight pairs of hands, despite the fact that I wasn’t even fighting to get away.

I was completely confused (Not needed - this is obvious). I couldn’t understand the eyes of the people in the dining hall. They were full of loathing, pity, and fear rolled into one big ball and left to rot (Try to make this sentence active if you can. Something like 'Eyes full of loathing, fear and pity stared down at me'). I could already tell that (Not needed, and the shorter sentence sounds much better.) They would haunt me. Even though I had no idea what was going on, I didn’t open my mouth. Every time I thought about it, I saw my classmates. I saw the looks in their eyes. Their terror was gradually being replaced with confusion now (Again, try to make this sentence active. E.g. 'Their terror became gradually replaced with confusion')

Welcome to the party (What? I don't understand how this fits in unless your MC is completely nuts. It jarred me out of the story.). I took some solace in the fact that I wasn’t the only person who had no idea what was going on.

And then I saw him. Dave, my sister’s boyfriend, lay sprawled in a pool of what looked like blood (Remove the 'what looked like' and just say blood. There's only so many red things you can be sprawled in and I doubt it's ketchup).

And then everything came back. All at once. I remembered sitting down at the lunch table, poking around at the excuse for food that the school cafeteria served us. I saw my sister out of the corner of my mind’s eye, standing in line with her boyfriend. They were arguing about something petty; Dave backhanding my sister in line (Is the repetition of 'the line' deliberate?).

But what I remembered the most was how not a single student did anything. Most of them didn’t even look up. There weren’t any teachers around to impress with heroism. It obviously wasn’t anything new or shocking. My muscles tensed at the memory, and I felt the people restraining me become more alert.

I remembered getting up from the table, my vision draped with a film of pale red. As I moved closer to Dave, the red got darker. Then it turned black, and my memory ends.

I blacked out?I’d never been unconscious before, but looking at Dave’s mangled face, something told me I hadn’t fainted. I felt myself being dragged away, but I my eyes remained fixated on Dave. I was hardly aware of my sister’s horrified eyes on me, even the looks from the rest of the lunch room faded to the edges of my tunnel vision.

The full gravity of my situation didn’t actually hit me until I’d been escorted away from the lunch room. My parents were on their way. Talk of expulsion and legal repercussions filtered through my daze, and I my head snapped up. Someone asked me what I thought I was doing. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t even remember doing whatever it was I did to Dave.

But he deserved it. Whatever it was.

* * * * *

I stared at the plaque at the desk. Dr. John Parker, PhD stared at me. (Good) I finally looked up.

Alright, I've gone through the first bit, all in all, not bad.

My general criticism is that I would have liked to have seen more action, instead of internal thoughts and memories. Although you might have done this deliberately since he is feeling dazed and confused, some dialogue from the people holding him down would break it up a bit. Speech can reveal so much.

Katastrof · 04-12-2008, 11:10 AM

Okay, so I read through the whole thing. I liked this alot better than the last version of WIP, it had action and substance, instead of a bland first day at school. Good Job. However, this piece still needs some work, but I think you have the idea down pat.

Anyways, from my read through, the first part was slow to start and the second two parts were more satisfying for me to read. I think it has to do with how most of the intro is in a passive voice. Like:

Quote:

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that I was being restrained by eight pairs of hands, despite the fact that I wasn’t even fighting to get away.

This whole sentence is passive and it starts your story off bad. The passive voice isn't that bad when used sparingly, but when you're a fiction writer it's always better to write in the active voice. It draws your reader in and immerses them into your world. That being said, I do realize that this is your character re-telling what happened to him, so it might be more realistic to tell it like this, but I think maybe it would be better to make it less passive or re-organize it.

Maybe it could be (don't re-write word for word, I'm just throwing this out there): I woke up to eight pairs of hands, restraining me. I didn't fight against them yet, they still pressed me firmly to the ground. That was the first thing I noticed that was wrong.

But whatever you do get rid of "despite the fact".

Quote:

They were arguing about something petty and then Dave backhanded my sister in line.

Quote:

my tunnel vision.

Tunnel is redundant.

Quote:

I stared at the plaque at the desk. Dr. John Parker, PhD stared at me. I finally looked up.

Should be: I stared at the plaque on the desk. Dr. John Parker,PhD stared at me.

The finally part doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the sentence. Just start with "I'm not crazy." It seems more realistic for him to be looking at the picture while saying that because he's rather ashamed of actually being in that kind of mental state.

That's all I have for now. I really like where it's going, but I think you should focus a bit on the MC's point of view on the world (that is if he is crazy). Add in some descriptive imagery that suggests his world is different from the real world. Don't state that it isn't though, that would be telling too much and I think the whole conflict of this story is whether he is really crazy or if he is really the only sane one.