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A scene - A Prologue to a work I've been tinkering with. (1600+ words)
Goatmon
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
I originally put the rough draft of this scene together for a creative writing course at college, but I revised it a bit and I thought I'd see what you guys thought about it. It's based on a comic I've been trying to work on for a while, but I mostly just write things out in proper story format rather than writing a simple script for a comic since I haven't really had a chance to have any decent artists get any actual work done on this for me.
With this piece I'm attempting to establish the characters and give the reader a good idea as to what sort of story they can expect. I feel I need a lot of work with establishing setting and characters, and overal story coherence. More than anything, I need work on general basics, more so than the advanced stuff they teach in college.
As frustrating as the creative writing course was (Mostly due to a teacher who was pretty much my opposite in almost every feasible way) I did pick up some useful concepts and ideas in relation to creating more distinct visuals with words, and a little bit on how to properly show instead of tell. One thing in particular I learned to focus on is how to suggest things with aside comments and indirect thoughts, which is so much more affective than stating things plainly. I still need to work on this, but I feel that I've gotten better at it.
Anyway... the following is a scene I plan to use as an introduction, a prologue I suppose. I may end up using this as the first chapter, or a filler early on, to cement the overal concept of the story. It still needs work, but I would appreciate any useful comments on how the weaker parts of this could be better done, and what it's strengths are and what I should try doing more of, if anything.
"What time is it?" I wondered out loud. This was the first afternoon visit Joseph and I had been allowed in a month, now. We were so busy lately, I'd almost forgotten the perfume of beer and tabacco, and the clacks and chatter at the pool tables nearby.
"Five-Fifteen,'" Joseph answered, pausing to finish his drink, "We're about out of time."
As he tucked his phone away I noticed the empty space in our booth; Derek's seat. Derek was a hulk of a man, a half foot over me, and at least twice Joseph's size. Back when we were a team, before the promotion split us up, we came here weekly. Johnny, Derek, Joseph and me; we were here every Thursday, always. Derek and Johnny would aruge over their score, both trying to top each other as they went over our latest raid; who got their target first, which one took the fewest shots in their most recent kill, and which one of them was closer to a promotion. It probably sounds bad, to take death so lightly, but in this work you learn not to take things so seriously.
Joseph would usually give them shit for it, but he always did it with a joke. He never pulled rank on us, not here. The pub was ours in those days; our little hidey hole, away from the responsible world. I'd always watch at first, never part of the laughter until the whiskey shots finally kicked in, and I'd forget I was supposed to be miserable, if only for a little while. Now it was just the two of us; Derek's been running our old unit, and Johnny... well, life in the S.W.A.T. has it's risks. Joseph still visits him on the weekends, but I haven't seen him since the breakdown. I feel for him, I really do, but I just can't bear to see him like that.
By now, we were out of time. I threw down two twenties for the drinks, and took a quick count to make sure there was enough left to pick up a twelve-case later. I let Joseph reach the door first so I could drag what was left of my cigarette before the October chill could hit me. Outside, I stood at the street corner and watched Joseph's car pull away, squinting against the light of the street lamp and the full moon. We usually travelled together, but not tonight.
My watch beeped seven blocks later to remind me it was currently six o'clock. I was almost on my third cigarette since the bar, but that would have to wait. Some voices drew my attention to a newsstand across the intersection, and I saw it; A fight was breaking out, between a young couple and two local hoods. One of the kids had a switchknife; him and his buddy coerced the other two around a corner into the alleyway and out of sight.
"Soon to be two dead bodies," I figured. They had barely a moment's headstart on me, but I couldn't intercept before I was sure. Hugging the side of the alley, I watched them through the narrow space between the wall and an old dumpster.
"So, how are you folks liking the city?" said the hood with the knife, hovering towards
the couple, step by step, his buddy beside him.
"Hey, we - whoa - just, just don't, don't do anything crazy, okay?" The gentleman, a young puerto-rican twenty-something, stumbled, hands trembling as he backed away. He was rubbing his fingers together, and his fingernails made an odd grinding sound. His presumed girlfriend was scratching her neck, averting the gaze of the two hoods and her boyfriend. Both of them were dressed awfully light for the cold weather, yet they were sweating. I couldn't wait any longer.
"Evening, fellas!" I shouted, striding out into the open. The kid with the knife and his buddy both twitched their heads toward me. The former squinted at me, eyeing me up, probably looking for a police badge. The couple both noticed me as well, then glanced at one another. I couldn't hear, but the woman whispered something to her squeeze while staring straight at me.
Moments like these remind me why I started working for the Bureau. Before either of the hoods could react, I tucked open my coat, 'accidentally' revealing my badge as I grabbed my cigarettes, and both kids froze. After lighting up I looked the armed kid straight in the eye and I smiled, pausing as I was about to put the pack away.
"Do you guys smoke?" I asked as I dangled the pack just barely in view, but he shook his head. He glanced from me, to his buddy, and gestured with his head. Without a word, the kid bolted and his buddy shortly followed. I snorted and shook my head, glancing back to the other two.
"You both all right?" Both of them were still very fidgety, like they were in a hurry to get somewhere.
"I think so." The young man stammered, awkwardly. "I - I'm glad you showed up when you did. Um... thanks."
"Oh, it's no problem." I smiled. "You folks aren't from around here, are you?" They both shook their heads, silently.
"I tell you what; I'll walk you someplace a little less dangerous, and you can pick up a cab from there?"
"Uh, I don't think that's necessary, sir, but - "
"Nonsense! It's just a quick walk, and then you'll both be on your way to a cozy motel."
Reluctantly, they followed along. I led them through the alleyway, pausing every so often to double check the nearest street. I took out my phone momentarily; both of them stared at me, like everyone always does when they see me; apparently it's very unusual to see a cop sending a text message.
A little later, a breeze hit as we rounded a corner, and I paused to button up my coat. It wasn't really that cold, but it was a good enough excuse to get a grip on the knife in my pocket, unnoticed. As we hit the final stretch of my escourt I stopped to put out my cigarette, snuffing it into a spray-painted brick, and waved at the couple to go on ahead. I the knife out of my pocket, tucking it under my wrist, and continued following them.
They didn't reach very far; the lady suddenly barreled over, shouting as she flew face-first into the alley floor. Her boyfriend moved in to help, but stopped. By now, I was close enough to see why; A low hanging silver wire was strung across the alley. The woman clutched her shin, which had been cut open and showed a nasty burn along the wound. That's not the sort of wound a regular person would get from any wire, you see. At this point, I couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.
Too late, the man realized what he and his lady had just walked into. He glanced back at me just as I swung, my arm leaving a brief silver arc the wake of the blade. I was fast, but he saw it coming and blocked my knife with an arm, taking a deep cut on the inside of his forearm, just shy of the elbow.
He snarled, growling a deep gutteral noise, and nailed me with his other arm, uppercutting right into my jaw, and I nearly fell over backward Before I got my balance, he grabbed my by the collar and I was pulled off my feet, hoisted up, and thrown agaisnt the brick wall, which knocked the wind out of me. I was crumpled up, but I still had my knife. Before I could even see straight, I felt his foot come down on my wrist. I heard something snap; The adrenaline and cold weather had numbed me, but that was going to hurt like Hell in a few minutes.
The explosions of three gunshots roared down the alleyway, and for a second I thought I'd gone deaf. The weight on my arm finally receded; I cradled my wrist and took a deep breath as feeling ebbed back into it. The "man", or what was left of him, was lying on his side. He almost appeared to be sleeping, where it not for the tiny exit wound above his temple. If you've never hunted a real monster before, especially one ethat can change shape, I gotta tell you it's not something you forget.
As the wound started bleeding his lips curled up into a sneer; largeg wolf fangs grew out and forced his mouth slightly open. In just about ten seconds, his ears grew bigger and pointerd, a thin scruff of hair grew around his neck, his half-open eyes became a faded yellow, and his fingernails grew into inch long claws. I glanced down the alley; the "woman" was also shot dead. Joseph was hunched over her, checking for signs of life. He looked up from the body to me and shouted "Target's neutralized! What about the other one?"
"Dead." I called back, adjusting my arm. "You could have been a little faster on the draw!"
"Ah you've had it worse." He muttered, pulling his cell phone out of his coat. "Just sit tight, paramedics will be here in a bit."
Within three minutes a cleanup team showed up in a black van; Seven men and two women. By the time the ambulance arrived the team had snapped at least twenty photos and bagged the bodies; the usual routine. The paramedicds urged me into the van, and it took about ten minutes to convince them I just needed a split and bandages. I'm a quick healer, y'know. What's more, they don't allow alcohol in a hospital, at least not for the patients. I just wanted to get home and deal with the paperwork. At least he didn't break my good hand.
With this piece I'm attempting to establish the characters and give the reader a good idea as to what sort of story they can expect. I feel I need a lot of work with establishing setting and characters, and overal story coherence. More than anything, I need work on general basics, more so than the advanced stuff they teach in college.
As frustrating as the creative writing course was (Mostly due to a teacher who was pretty much my opposite in almost every feasible way) I did pick up some useful concepts and ideas in relation to creating more distinct visuals with words, and a little bit on how to properly show instead of tell. One thing in particular I learned to focus on is how to suggest things with aside comments and indirect thoughts, which is so much more affective than stating things plainly. I still need to work on this, but I feel that I've gotten better at it.
Anyway... the following is a scene I plan to use as an introduction, a prologue I suppose. I may end up using this as the first chapter, or a filler early on, to cement the overal concept of the story. It still needs work, but I would appreciate any useful comments on how the weaker parts of this could be better done, and what it's strengths are and what I should try doing more of, if anything.
"What time is it?" I wondered out loud. This was the first afternoon visit Joseph and I had been allowed in a month, now. We were so busy lately, I'd almost forgotten the perfume of beer and tabacco, and the clacks and chatter at the pool tables nearby.
"Five-Fifteen,'" Joseph answered, pausing to finish his drink, "We're about out of time."
As he tucked his phone away I noticed the empty space in our booth; Derek's seat. Derek was a hulk of a man, a half foot over me, and at least twice Joseph's size. Back when we were a team, before the promotion split us up, we came here weekly. Johnny, Derek, Joseph and me; we were here every Thursday, always. Derek and Johnny would aruge over their score, both trying to top each other as they went over our latest raid; who got their target first, which one took the fewest shots in their most recent kill, and which one of them was closer to a promotion. It probably sounds bad, to take death so lightly, but in this work you learn not to take things so seriously.
Joseph would usually give them shit for it, but he always did it with a joke. He never pulled rank on us, not here. The pub was ours in those days; our little hidey hole, away from the responsible world. I'd always watch at first, never part of the laughter until the whiskey shots finally kicked in, and I'd forget I was supposed to be miserable, if only for a little while. Now it was just the two of us; Derek's been running our old unit, and Johnny... well, life in the S.W.A.T. has it's risks. Joseph still visits him on the weekends, but I haven't seen him since the breakdown. I feel for him, I really do, but I just can't bear to see him like that.
By now, we were out of time. I threw down two twenties for the drinks, and took a quick count to make sure there was enough left to pick up a twelve-case later. I let Joseph reach the door first so I could drag what was left of my cigarette before the October chill could hit me. Outside, I stood at the street corner and watched Joseph's car pull away, squinting against the light of the street lamp and the full moon. We usually travelled together, but not tonight.
My watch beeped seven blocks later to remind me it was currently six o'clock. I was almost on my third cigarette since the bar, but that would have to wait. Some voices drew my attention to a newsstand across the intersection, and I saw it; A fight was breaking out, between a young couple and two local hoods. One of the kids had a switchknife; him and his buddy coerced the other two around a corner into the alleyway and out of sight.
"Soon to be two dead bodies," I figured. They had barely a moment's headstart on me, but I couldn't intercept before I was sure. Hugging the side of the alley, I watched them through the narrow space between the wall and an old dumpster.
"So, how are you folks liking the city?" said the hood with the knife, hovering towards
the couple, step by step, his buddy beside him.
"Hey, we - whoa - just, just don't, don't do anything crazy, okay?" The gentleman, a young puerto-rican twenty-something, stumbled, hands trembling as he backed away. He was rubbing his fingers together, and his fingernails made an odd grinding sound. His presumed girlfriend was scratching her neck, averting the gaze of the two hoods and her boyfriend. Both of them were dressed awfully light for the cold weather, yet they were sweating. I couldn't wait any longer.
"Evening, fellas!" I shouted, striding out into the open. The kid with the knife and his buddy both twitched their heads toward me. The former squinted at me, eyeing me up, probably looking for a police badge. The couple both noticed me as well, then glanced at one another. I couldn't hear, but the woman whispered something to her squeeze while staring straight at me.
Moments like these remind me why I started working for the Bureau. Before either of the hoods could react, I tucked open my coat, 'accidentally' revealing my badge as I grabbed my cigarettes, and both kids froze. After lighting up I looked the armed kid straight in the eye and I smiled, pausing as I was about to put the pack away.
"Do you guys smoke?" I asked as I dangled the pack just barely in view, but he shook his head. He glanced from me, to his buddy, and gestured with his head. Without a word, the kid bolted and his buddy shortly followed. I snorted and shook my head, glancing back to the other two.
"You both all right?" Both of them were still very fidgety, like they were in a hurry to get somewhere.
"I think so." The young man stammered, awkwardly. "I - I'm glad you showed up when you did. Um... thanks."
"Oh, it's no problem." I smiled. "You folks aren't from around here, are you?" They both shook their heads, silently.
"I tell you what; I'll walk you someplace a little less dangerous, and you can pick up a cab from there?"
"Uh, I don't think that's necessary, sir, but - "
"Nonsense! It's just a quick walk, and then you'll both be on your way to a cozy motel."
Reluctantly, they followed along. I led them through the alleyway, pausing every so often to double check the nearest street. I took out my phone momentarily; both of them stared at me, like everyone always does when they see me; apparently it's very unusual to see a cop sending a text message.
A little later, a breeze hit as we rounded a corner, and I paused to button up my coat. It wasn't really that cold, but it was a good enough excuse to get a grip on the knife in my pocket, unnoticed. As we hit the final stretch of my escourt I stopped to put out my cigarette, snuffing it into a spray-painted brick, and waved at the couple to go on ahead. I the knife out of my pocket, tucking it under my wrist, and continued following them.
They didn't reach very far; the lady suddenly barreled over, shouting as she flew face-first into the alley floor. Her boyfriend moved in to help, but stopped. By now, I was close enough to see why; A low hanging silver wire was strung across the alley. The woman clutched her shin, which had been cut open and showed a nasty burn along the wound. That's not the sort of wound a regular person would get from any wire, you see. At this point, I couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.
Too late, the man realized what he and his lady had just walked into. He glanced back at me just as I swung, my arm leaving a brief silver arc the wake of the blade. I was fast, but he saw it coming and blocked my knife with an arm, taking a deep cut on the inside of his forearm, just shy of the elbow.
He snarled, growling a deep gutteral noise, and nailed me with his other arm, uppercutting right into my jaw, and I nearly fell over backward Before I got my balance, he grabbed my by the collar and I was pulled off my feet, hoisted up, and thrown agaisnt the brick wall, which knocked the wind out of me. I was crumpled up, but I still had my knife. Before I could even see straight, I felt his foot come down on my wrist. I heard something snap; The adrenaline and cold weather had numbed me, but that was going to hurt like Hell in a few minutes.
The explosions of three gunshots roared down the alleyway, and for a second I thought I'd gone deaf. The weight on my arm finally receded; I cradled my wrist and took a deep breath as feeling ebbed back into it. The "man", or what was left of him, was lying on his side. He almost appeared to be sleeping, where it not for the tiny exit wound above his temple. If you've never hunted a real monster before, especially one ethat can change shape, I gotta tell you it's not something you forget.
As the wound started bleeding his lips curled up into a sneer; largeg wolf fangs grew out and forced his mouth slightly open. In just about ten seconds, his ears grew bigger and pointerd, a thin scruff of hair grew around his neck, his half-open eyes became a faded yellow, and his fingernails grew into inch long claws. I glanced down the alley; the "woman" was also shot dead. Joseph was hunched over her, checking for signs of life. He looked up from the body to me and shouted "Target's neutralized! What about the other one?"
"Dead." I called back, adjusting my arm. "You could have been a little faster on the draw!"
"Ah you've had it worse." He muttered, pulling his cell phone out of his coat. "Just sit tight, paramedics will be here in a bit."
Within three minutes a cleanup team showed up in a black van; Seven men and two women. By the time the ambulance arrived the team had snapped at least twenty photos and bagged the bodies; the usual routine. The paramedicds urged me into the van, and it took about ten minutes to convince them I just needed a split and bandages. I'm a quick healer, y'know. What's more, they don't allow alcohol in a hospital, at least not for the patients. I just wanted to get home and deal with the paperwork. At least he didn't break my good hand.
Goatmon on
Posts
Redundant.
This is a really awkward sentence. "It was my first visit in a month." or something like that. Also, why are you telling us this now? It might be easier to let us work it out for ourselves.
"Tobacco"
I can understand tobacco having a perfume, but beer?
The second half of the sentence is a bit of a mess. The balls are clacking, but are they chattering too, or is that the people at the tables? It's disorienting to go from the general - "the perfume of beer and tabacco" to the specific "the pool tables nearby"
I'd suggest "I'd almost forgotten the smell of beer and tobacco, and the clack of pool tables."
You'll get some people defending physical descriptions of characters, but I doubt you'll find too many people keen on clichés like "hulk of a man", and for God's sake, why are you describing a character who isn't even present?
Every time you bring exposition into a story, you wind down the pace. You've stopped telling your readers what's happening, in favour of explaining what's happened. It's a valuable pacing tool. You can use it to focus the reader's attention onto something they otherwise would have missed, for example.
But so far in this story, you've given us two pieces of action:
Hardly riveting. Hardly a stream of action so blistering that you need to pump the authorial breaks.
I'd recommend saving this stuff for later. We don't need to know everything right now. Trickle it in through dialogue as you need to.
This is a very long-winded way of saying "we left the bar."
He's squinting against the glow of a street lamp and the moon? What is this guy, some kind of troglodyte?
And why doesn't he say goodbye to Joseph? Why not "I'd almost forgotten what this was like. Why don't we do this more often?" You could cut the exposition a few paras up, and replace it with dialogue here.
Okay, this was the point where I raised one eyebrow, read ahead, and decided that maybe the subject matter isn't for me. So I'll switch from specific crits to general ones.
First of all, what are you trying to accomplish with this scene? What are you telling us about the character?
Well, we learn that:
All of which could have been conveyed to us in a variety of different, fresher, more engaging ways.
First of all, you criminally under-use dialogue. When the narrator talks, he isn't funny, he isn't engaging, he isn't charismatic. We don't really root for him. You're giving us an A-Z run-through of an action scene, but you haven't laid the groundwork - you haven't earned any payoff.
Structurally, the scene in the bar should be establishing this guy as someone we like, or at least find intriguing. He should be saying and doing things that hook your reader in. For example, maybe he's got a way with words, maybe he's soft-spoken and shy - nervous about hitting on a girl at the bar, maybe he's an avid stamp-collector - obsessing over the barkeeper's envelopes? Give us something - anything - to work with.
Then, when you hit the action, use the conflict to expand out what you've established at the bar. For example, maybe he's not the macho action-hero type? Maybe he takes a few punches before he starts giving them back? Maybe he's wary of short, tweaky dudes with knives? Maybe he actually says something funny, reveals a character flaw, or does something other than Action-Cop 101?
The reveal of the werewolves demonstrates your lack of characterisation, too. From the very second you introduce the out-of-towners, you should be intentionally misleading your audience. You should be manipulating them into feeling sympathy for this poor girl getting mugged, so that when you pull the "haHA! She's actually a werewolf!" card, they get the thrill of having their expectations thwarted. And to do that effectively, you need to be making better use of dialogue. Your narrator and this woman need to talk. We need to get to know her. We need to know her name. We need to fall in love with her a little bit.
Structurally, this is fine. You just need to take a step back and think harder about how to push the right emotional buttons. Think in paragraphs - what is this paragraph going to accomplish? How is it going to further my agenda? If it's not working on at least two levels - advancing the plot and characterizing your cast - cut it.
Your primary consideration should not be "is this cool?" it should be "is this exciting?" What will involve your readers in the story? What mechanisms can you use to invest them in the action? How can you encourage them to identify and fall in love with your characters?
Noted! Although I'm not certain what exactly I can do to make it clear from the first sentence that Kevin is the focal character in the conversation.
Huh. Well, I can work that info into a conversation easily enough.
I'm not really sure how someone can be confused by "clacks and chatter of the pool tables." Balls clack, people chatter. Neither will do both. But I can change that around a bit.
Because this is a prologue to a story that will be including many more characters. I understand the need to tweak it and make it more interesting, but I fail to grasp that I should avoid referencing anything or anyone that will not be immediately relevant, so long as I find appropriate ways to work it in. To an extent, at least. I certainly don't want to spend too much time on backstory.
Thing is, I've been given the exact opposite response from folks at the creative writing class. This was written for a group evaluation project, and at least one member from the group complimented me on the backstory in the beginning of the piece.
I don't mean to imply that I take their opinion over yours, but this may just be a point where difference of opinion comes in. And you yourself admitted that this may not be your kind of thing.
And, given that the bar is a very relevant place to Kevin (And is hinted as such) and his former teammates, it's not inappropriate for him to reminisce on this sort of thing. But I can understand the need to focus more on the present before giving much more detail to backstory.
I can work on the pacing, but passive buildup to more exciting events works well enough as long as the writing is solid and I can keep the conversations and narration interesting.
Constant excitement to me just dilutes the value of the more relevant action. That attitude may not be everyone else's cup of tea, but I'm not about to write in a style that opposes my personal taste. If it means I get less readers, so be it.
This I can understand. I like what I did here, but I can find better ways to work it slower without compromising much.
I can see why this seems rather winded, at least in written form. I am attempting, in the comic this scene is meant for, to achieve a noir feel as I previously stated. I'm tinkering around with wording and finding ways to include narraration that is interesting to listen to, but this is probably a moment that works better with an actual visual instead of purely text, so I have to accept that some things just won't read very well.
Yeah, the squinting seems a bit silly, but I wanted to throw the moon in there and that was all I could think of on short notice. I'll figure something out, there.
Also, seeing as the two of them would be seeing each other again in just a few hours, I didn't feel the need to throw in a noteworthy goodbye. But I suppose I can work on that.
Also, I'm trying to go for a kind of noir feel with my work. So there's going to be a consistent narration for the most part.
Okay, this was the point where I raised one eyebrow, read ahead, and decided that maybe the subject matter isn't for me. So I'll switch from specific crits to general ones.
Okay, the funny thing about that? I was trying specifically to accomplish all of those things. Over the story, I want it to be made very clearly that he is not a very likable guy. More of his history will be revealed as the story progresses, and it'll be much easier to understand why he is the way he is. I have kind of an obsession about the cause and effect of personality problems; The alcoholism, for example, developed after he started his weekly visits with his teammates to the bar, which led him to realize that getting drunk was a good (albeit short-term) way of dealing with an ongoing depression after a big accident that more or less ruined his life.
Oviously, the execution of this would involve a lot more detail.
I'll just have to work on making him more sympathetic, at the same time. This probably will not be very easy.
The problem with this, is that these are all problems I myself have. I'm kind of a recluse and not good at being social so I'm not really sure how to consistently make Kevin seem less identical to me in that sense.
This all makes a lot of sense.
You've pretty much driven this point home already, although I will keep in mind the "is this exciting?" part of this statement.
Thanks for your critique! Anything else you might add in response to my thoughts here would be further appreciated. (I could not have said that in a more boring way.)
But, to be honest, I don't think you'll find any of my advice particularly controversial. This is a solidly constructed chapter, and a good foundation to build off. Keep an open mind, and don't be afraid of revisiting your work with a critical, experimental eye. Half the fun of writing is trying new things - playing around to achieve the intended effect. If you don't fancy the changes, revert back to the old version.
You misunderstand me. Describing a character is a way of directing your reader's attention towards them in a very specific way. When you describe a character who isn't physically present in the scene, you run the risk of misleading them: "Jane has black hair. Got it. Oh wait, Jane isn't here?"
You put prose in front of me, I'll crit prose. You put a script in front of me, I'll crit a script. But, bear in mind that brevity is a virtue, no matter the form you're writing in.
Yeah, in the context of the rest of the chapter a drawn-out goodbye makes less sense - unless, of course, you're playing with reader expectations - surprising them by reintroducing Joseph after they think he's exited the scene, for example.