Scuffmarks - Writers Forum

mjk · 01-07-2006, 02:55 PM

*edited
Scuffmarks
a story by mj

I’m not that far gone. I judge this by my apparent ability to string together words into coherent thoughts. At times, I am startled to see my apartment as through the eyes of a stranger, awed at the pathetic squalor of it all. Other times, I sit and stare at the scuffmarks on the floor.

I don’t take comfort in them; rather I find them a nuisance. Black, sooty stains pock marking the cheap plastic tile that infests the whole apartment. When we moved in, I marveled at how easy it would be keep clean. Cleanliness used to matter to me. Now those scuffmarks just grow in number.

I know there’s a mop somewhere; I brought it with me from the last place, but it has yet to make an appearance since the move. I can’t remember how long ago that was. It happened while I was still writing in the notebook before this one, so it must have been somewhat recent. No matter where Jo and I move, there’s always boxes left unpacked, so it’s useless to measure time that way. Jo doesn’t like calendars.

I suppose I don’t really care, although some part of me obviously does otherwise I wouldn’t be obsessing about it in my journal. Maybe it’s my sanity, trying to nail me down to a reassuring routine, a cycle of actions repeated in an orderly fashion. Sometimes I think Jo has brainwashed me, his thoughts and my thoughts jumble together until I don’t know if there’s such a definite distinction between our lives. I doubt he feels the same. It seems a romantic notion, to meld into another person in such a way, ‘Oh, I don’t know where he ends and I begin,’ but to me it’s warped and ominous. It sounds like a death sentence.

I try it out under my breath; no one will hear me. Hearing it aloud doesn’t lighten the threat. I look at him; he catches my eye and winks. I shudder. Winking men always evoke a feeling of dread. Can a wink be well intentioned? Or is it merely a distraction while they steal away your precious things?

His friends are here. I don’t know if I can remember a time when Jo’s friends weren’t here. They laze about the floor, doing whatever drug they could come up with that day and spacing out in front of the TV. If I’m at work, they blare the stereo too. Jo lets all this happen, encourages it even. He doesn’t wash the dishes; when they run out, they just eat with their fingers and drink from the containers.

Am I just left to play the martyr in this situation? Left to clean up after an unemployed boyfriend that more resembles an obnoxious child? I disgust myself. How can I think such admonishments against this man I claim to love? Why don’t I get off my ass and find that fucking mop?

He hands me a joint, asks me to spark it. He thinks this passes as affection. I like it much better than kissing and groping since I won’t be stared at the same way while lighting a joint as I would be if Jo were pinching my nipples. I hate his friends. I hate their shoes.

Indifference eventually sets in, as it usually does, and I let Jo and his friends do whatever they want. Who am I to keep Jo from feeling like a big man in his own home? Whatever Jo thinks of me or whatever he claims of me, I have space to call my own: this journal, these words. I always have my words.

When I do speak up, Jo hears every time. His ears are keen for my mumble. This is also, at times, to my advantage. He’s getting me a glass of water as I write.

He requires payment for the amazing feat he has accomplished in quenching my thirst. Perhaps he fancies he has ensured my survival for another day by replenishing my fluids. If I said that sentence to him, he would think I was being naughty. As a token of my eternal gratitude I am to kiss him, with passion as well as prudence, and then smile pretty when he opens his eyes. Then he leaves me alone.

This apathy bothers me, which is surely one of the most contradictory feelings I’ve ever had. I could have sworn I am the kind of person who takes care of her environment and asserts responsibility for herself. When did my idea of self stop coinciding with my actual self? I guess I’ll never know since there’s no fucking calendar anywhere. Maybe I can start measuring time by counting the scuffmarks.

mjk · 01-07-2006, 02:56 PM

just a quick note to thank everyone for their feedback. without it, i would have never finished this story. thank you!!!!

Hodge · 01-07-2006, 05:15 PM

This is a really cool piece...

First, the guy's name is Jo, but you don't mention his gender until later. I've always regarded "Jo" as a female name, so this threw me off. I'm not sure if others have this problem, though, so it may just be me.

Red text means cut it

Quote:

I’m not that far gone. I judge this by my apparent ability to string together words into coherent thoughts. Even in the middle of all this waste, I can see. At times, I am startled to see my apartment as through the eyes of a stranger, awed at the pathetic squalor of it all. Other times, I sit and stare at the scuffmarks on the floor.

I really don't like those opening lines. They don't draw me in, they don't really tell me your piece is unique, and they just don't sound right. I'm hesitant to say it's cliché because it may not be, but it reads too much like a suicide note or "Dear John" letter. Or not. I don't actually know what I'm talking about here.

Quote:

I don’t take comfort in them; rather I find them a nuisance. Black, sooty stains pock marking the cheap plastic tile that infests the whole apartment. When we moved in, I marveled at how easy it would be keep clean. Cleanliness used to matter to me. Now those scuffmarks just grow in number.

The tile infests the apartment (which I don't think works very well as a description), but the scuffmarks grow in number like cockroaches. I think it'd work better if the scuffmarks infested the apartment.

Quote:

I know there’s a mop somewhere; I brought it with me from the last place, but it has yet to make an appearance since the move. I can’t remember how long ago that was. It happened while I was still writing in the notebook before this one, so it must have been somewhat recent. No matter where Jo and I move, there’s always boxes left unpacked, so it’s useless to measure time that way. Jo doesn’t like calendars.

Sets the stage for Jo's character. Good.

Quote:

I try it out under my breath; no one will hear me. Hearing it aloud doesn’t lighten the threat. I look at him; he catches my eye and winks. I shudder. Winking men always evoke a feeling of dread. Can a wink be well intentioned? Or is it merely a distraction while they steal away your precious things? He didn’t see the shudder. If he did, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Even if he comprehended all the feelings such a gesture gave me, he wouldn’t care. Or maybe he would like it. I could see him liking the role of molesting stranger or intimate uncle. He’s a guy who may not understand why he gets a sexual thrill from such a fantasy, but that doesn’t mean he’ll feel shame for it.

This needs to be fleshed out more. You tell us all these horrible things about Jo, but give us no examples. What's the basis for turning him into creepy Uncle Bob? It doesn't work for me.

Quote:

His friends are here. They, along with Jo, are the culprits responsible for the scuffmarks on the floor. I don’t know if I can remember a time when Jo’s friends weren’t here. They laze about the floor, doing whatever drug they could come up with that day and spacing out in front of the TV. If I’m at work, they blare the stereo too. Jo lets all this happen, encourages it even. He doesn’t wash the dishes; when they run out, they just eat with their fingers and drink from the containers.

Ah ha! The mystery of the scuffmarks revealed. Another infestation.

You can cut that one part because it's fairly obvious they're the reason for the scuffmarks.

Quote:

He hands me a joint, asks me to spark it. He thinks this passes as affection. I like it much better than kissing and groping since I won’t be stared at the same way while lighting a joint as I would be if Jo were pinching my nipples. I hate his friends. I hate their shoes.

This is what I meant above by telling, not showing. Good.

Quote:

Indifference eventually sets in, as it usually does, and I let Jo and his friends do whatever they want. Who am I to keep Jo from feeling like a big man in his own home? Whatever Jo thinks of me or whatever he claims of me, I have space to call my own: this journal, these words. I always have my words.

A bit cliché... And it'd be nice to understand why her anger and disgust just suddenly turns to apathy.

Quote:

When I do speak up, Jo hears every time. His ears are keen for my mumble. This is also, at times, to my advantage. He’s getting me a glass of water as I write.

I don't know what to make of this. I'm going to be honest: I was dissembling this piece as a literary scholar the first time I read through it, and this gives me an incredible basis for a deconstructive argument. If you're employing the "unreliable narrator" device here, you've done a good job, because to the discerning reader this comes as a slap in the face.

Quote:

He requires payment for the amazing feat he has accomplished in quenching my thirst. Perhaps he fancies he has ensured my survival for another day by replenishing my fluids. If I said that sentence to him, he would think I was being naughty. As a token of my eternal gratitude I am to kiss him, with passion as well as prudence, and then smile pretty when he opens his eyes. Then he leaves me alone.

And it continues here! First you make the reader think the boyfriend is a dick for wanting payment, but then we find the "payment" is a kiss. Hah!

Quote:

This apathy bothers me, which is surely one of the most contradictory feelings I’ve ever had. I could have sworn I am the kind of person who takes care of her environment and asserts responsibility for herself. When did my idea of self stop coinciding with my actual self? I guess I’ll never know since there’s no fucking calendar anywhere. Maybe I can start measuring time by counting the scuffmarks.

The ending I love here, because it evokes an image of a prisoner counting the days by scratching marks into the floor or wall.

Great piece—I'd be interested to know whether the woman really is giving the whole truth about her boyfriend or not.

mjk · 01-07-2006, 06:01 PM

hodge- thanks for reading it and and taking the time to give me your feedback. i've got a few questions and comments, if you've got more time.

i agree with your suggestions of lines to cut, except the one "It happened while I was still writing in the notebook before this one, so it must have been somewhat recent." the point of that line was to demonstrate that she is writing a journal entry, she writes them on a consistent basis and she doesn't have much of a concept of time (due to Jo, drugs, apathy, etc.) i'm hesitant to cut it because of how much it reveals about her. do you have any suggestions on what might work better and still get those messages across?

"I try it out under my breath; no one will hear me. Hearing it aloud doesn’t lighten the threat. I look at him; he catches my eye and winks. I shudder. Winking men always evoke a feeling of dread. Can a wink be well intentioned? Or is it merely a distraction while they steal away your precious things? He didn’t see the shudder. If he did, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Even if he comprehended all the feelings such a gesture gave me, he wouldn’t care. Or maybe he would like it. I could see him liking the role of molesting stranger or intimate uncle. He’s a guy who may not understand why he gets a sexual thrill from such a fantasy, but that doesn’t mean he’ll feel shame for it."
this paragraph gave me a lot of trouble, and i don't think it expressed the character of jo, i think i meant it to say more about her. the red text is what i would want to cut, but again, i want the message to get across of her disinclination to trust men, even though she's obviously been with jo for awhile. if i cut the red text, does that still show through?

jo is not the main character, nor does the reader need to know much about him. he acts as a mirror for her character.

just because the payment is a kiss doesn't make him less of a dick (although i don't believe that jo is a dick, just a lazy, unemployed stoner who takes advantage of his girlfriend.) it's the fact that she thinks she has to "pay" him in order to get him to leave her alone. i think the sadder fact is jo's inability to see how she really feels about him, the fact that if she kisses him with just the right style and smiles pretty enough, he thinks everything is okay.

i'm interested to know what you think about all that when you get the chance.

on another note... i have noticed that people tend to get uncomfortable when gender gets blurry. i have written stories without gender before and every time, people complain about it. it's very interesting what makes people unsettled. i like the idea of pushing gender boundaries through ambiguous characters, or provoking someone to re-think their interpretations of a story (or life in general, i suppose) all based on the gender of a character. it's an interesting angle to take in writing. thanks for mentioning that you got thrown off by it. hopefully that means my mission to provoke is being accomplished.

thanks again.

Hodge · 01-07-2006, 06:17 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by mjk

i agree with your suggestions of lines to cut, except the one "It happened while I was still writing in the notebook before this one, so it must have been somewhat recent." the point of that line was to demonstrate that she is writing a journal entry, she writes them on a consistent basis and she doesn't have much of a concept of time (due to Jo, drugs, apathy, etc.) i'm hesitant to cut it because of how much it reveals about her. do you have any suggestions on what might work better and still get those messages across?

Your character says, "I can’t remember how long ago that was" so we know time is a bit of an issue with her. And then later when we find Jo doesn't like calendars it's driven home a little more. By the very end, we know time is a problem for her.

Quote:

this paragraph gave me a lot of trouble, and i don't think it expressed the character of jo, i think i meant it to say more about her. the red text is what i would want to cut, but again, i want the message to get across of her disinclination to trust men, even though she's obviously been with jo for awhile. if i cut the red text, does that still show through?

I didn't get so much that she distrusted men as that she didn't like her boyfriend and his buddies. But no, if you cut those parts out you won't lose anything. I just didn't recommend cutting it because I thought you were going to add something nasty about him in there.

Quote:

jo is not the main character, nor does the reader need to know much about him. he acts as a mirror for her character.

That's what I suspected.

Quote:

i'm interested to know what you think about all that when you get the chance.

I just don't think of a kiss as payment. SHE might, but I personally don't, because that's what couples do. I do get the sense that she's distraught over his inability to empathise with her, and that she has to act how she thinks he wants her to.

Quote:

i'm interested to know what you think about all that when you get the chance.

Quote:

on another note... i have noticed that people tend to get uncomfortable when gender gets blurry.

It's not so much that. It's just that I like to know before I assume. "Jo" is the name of a woman in my office, so I thought the male part of the couple was the narrator. Then I thought they were a gay couple. But the nipple part gave it away. It's just nice to know these things early on so the reader doesn't hit him/herself upon finding out that the genders are all different.

mjk · 01-07-2006, 10:15 PM

i've made some changes. hopefully it flows better now.

cellardoor · 01-08-2006, 01:02 AM

wonderful, wonderful. some parts become slightly cliche, but these can be fixed. nice one.

mjk · 01-08-2006, 12:39 PM

thanks for reading and commenting cellardoor (do you know who originally commented on the beauty of those words combined? i'll give you imaginary bonus points if you do.)

i can see a couple of cliches in it, but i think i'm going to stand by them, unless you explain why i shouldn't and i agree with your reasoning. the way i see it, this is written from the first person, a journal entry, and no matter how much we all abhor cliches, we use them, especially when we're not writing to tell a story, but rather venting frustrations/feelings/etc. by writing in a journal. if this was told from a third person, i would probably cut them. but those are the narrator's words, so i'm staying true to her voice.

talknerdytome · 01-08-2006, 03:33 PM

fantastic! LOVED it! The small improvements u have made are great and finish it off perfectly

Well done and keep writing!

kalibantre · 01-08-2006, 03:52 PM

I like, I like that it's just a snapshot, that there is no beginning middle and end. this is just a daze, like her life.

appreciate the message. keep up the good work

mjk · 01-08-2006, 04:37 PM

thank you for reading ladies! i feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

kalibantre · 01-08-2006, 04:40 PM

You sure we're all ladies??

mjk · 01-08-2006, 04:45 PM

well, not all of you. i was referring to you kali and talk nerdy, not hodge or cellar. did i make a ghastly error by assuming your avatar is not a reflection of you? i apologize if i did.

hehe, gender... it's just so fun to play with.

kalibantre · 01-08-2006, 04:48 PM

I am a girl/woman. just wouldn't refer to myself as a lady.

It's a reflection of how I looked a few months ago, not that pretty but pale with black hair, now i'm pale with red hair

mjk · 01-08-2006, 04:53 PM

i suppose it might be obvious to some what gender i identify as, but i'd rather not state it out loud in case anyone is still guessing.

i would never refer to myself as a lady and do apologize for the insult to you.