Chapter 8 pt 2
Enough.
This had gone on too long and I'm sick of it. It's been three weeks and all I've done is sit in the fucking dark, drinking myself sick and smoking till my eyes roll back. Thank God Sainsburys and my new dealer delivers. Otherwise I'd be fucked, more so then I am already.
I've got to get up. I've got to shower, I need to eat properly and I need to get out of this fucking house. So what if Jonie doesn't want me. So what if she hasn't bothered to call me in three fucking weeks. So what if my life is completely and utterly fucked. I don't need Jonie, I can make new friends, in fact I can make my old friends.
I look around the camp I made myself in the living room and I wonder where I left my phone. I stand up (well not without a little trouble), scattering three weeks worth of crumbs and knocking over the mini “Beer Mahal” I made myself. I sigh, that took a whole day. At least the mini “Beerful Tower” and “Beerkinham Palace” are still standing erect. Ha erect. I search through the debris that is my living room and I find my phone nestled in between the armchair cushions and the underwear I remembered to change. It's dead and I'm not surprised. I look for the charger and notice that the cable is hanging out of my laptop so I plug it in and sit down. I wait a few minutes and turn it on. It gives a satisfactory beep and I lean back on the sofa, squishing a mountain of empty orange juice cartons. I grab my rizla, tobacco, weed and grinder and start the rolling process. I've gotten so good it takes only a matter of minutes before I'm lighting the sucker and retreating into my own happy world again.
A few hours later I emerge, fuzzy headed and hungry. I scan the floor for something edible but my eyes bring me nothing back. Fuck. I guess I have to rejoin the natural world. I get up and I feel like I'm on a boat, I honestly don't think I'll make it to my bedroom to shower. I get up one flight of stairs and call it a day. I head towards the bedroom on the left and I freeze. Hand reaching out but not quite touching the handle. I haven't been in this room since I moved in six years ago. It was my dads room and all his stuff is still in there. The same as he left it all those years ago when him and his new family stopped coming to London for holidays. Apparently it wasn't exotic enough for his thorough bred clan. I take a deep breath and turn the handle, pushing open the door in one swift gesture. The door sighs at the effort its has to make after all these years. It hits the dresser behind the door with a thud sending dusty costume jewellery scattering to the floor. I look around the room from the doorway. Dust particles are dancing in the light and I'm hit with an overwhelming smell of musk. In my current state it's all too much and I feel the bile rising in my throat. I'm gonna be sick. I lurch into the room, groping at the pieces of furniture that aren't moving and yank open the bathroom door. I make it to the toilet just in time. Everything that I've eaten in the past three weeks comes back up and trust me it's not a lot.
My body heaves, forcing my back to arch and my stomach to cramp, throwing up another load into the waiting porcelain bowl. After fifteen minutes I sit back, wiping my mouth on my soiled shirt and drying my running eyes with the back of my hand. I lean against the cold bathtub and muse at how warm the floor feels. Must be under floor heating, shame it's not in the rest of the house.
I stare at the empty room through the open door and I feel numb. The only thing I can think is that this room is so much nicer then mine, seeing as mine looks like the aftermath of a third world bombing. I didn't get round to cleaning up after that day and instead closed the door on it. I'll deal with it eventually. Maybe I'll hire a cleaner.
I heave my body onto the side of the bath and push the plug into the hole and turn the hot water on. The bath is a bit dusty so I have to switch the tap to the hose and rinse it down. The dirty water builds up coz I forgot to take the plug out so I have to attend to that, then wash the bath down again and put the plug in and finally turn the hot fucking water on. Man, that was a lot more work then I bargained for. I stand and flush the toilet, watching the sick swirl down gives me a weird nostalgic feeling. I take a deep breath and turn towards the room. I have to face it sometime.
It's been decorated in “neutral colours” meaning it looks like a stripy cappuccino monster threw up everywhere then passed out in the corner and someone mistook it for a bed. Apart from that the room isn't too bad. It's so bright, the tall bay windows filling the room from floor to ceiling with its brilliant glow. Compared to the shit hole upstairs this feels like a palace. I wish the rest of the house felt this way. I may have to move down here.
The sound of running water jolts me out of my daydream and I turn back into the bathroom. The water in the tub is only half filled and I have a desperate urge to fill it with bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles. I dive towards the cupboard under the sink and yank the door open with all the stealth of a ninja. I rummage around the shelves, the smell of lavender and strawberry filling my nose. I find a bottle of strawberry bubble bath that hasn't been opened, so I crack the lid and take a deep breath. I'm instantly reminded of my mum and I feel a pang of guilt coz I've been ignoring her recently. I pledge to be a better son and ninja roll towards the bath tub dumping half the bottle into it. Within a few minutes the scent of my mum feels the room.
I ninja crawl back to the cupboard and rummage around a bit more. I find expired aspirin, ibuprofen and half empty deodorants. A packet of razors, a pair of scissors, an expired packet of condoms and a half used packet of Viagra. I instantly throw the Viagra into the corner of the room and feel vile. Dirty old sod.
I grab the razors and the scissors and look at myself in the mirror. My hair has grown outrageously wild and I’ve got a hobo beard. It's time for a haircut. I shoot a quick glance at the rapidly filling tub and judge that I've got at least five minutes till I have to turn the water off. So I pick up the scissors and poise it over my beard. Here goes nothing.
I start cutting, slowly at first, my heart pounding with every strand that falls. I'm half way through and my face looks so much better. I finish my beard off with gusto and I turn my attention to my hair.
I notice that the sound of running water is getting deeper and I turn the taps off just in time.
I look in the mirror and run a hand through my hair. Bye hair. You hold so many fucked up memories. It's time for a fresh start. I pick the scissors back up again and I hesitate, just for a minute, hands poised in position and I take in a deep breath. I breathe in light and positivity and I breath out all the shit.
“It's one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready so here I go.”
I'm glad this narrative has ended on a cliff-hanger; there still feels like there's a lot you could do with this character and this way, you have the room to develop it further, should you choose to.
ReplyDeleteYour sense of setting is very strong in this piece and has been consistently strong throughout your work. We get a real sense of Joe's mood through the way he views and treats his surroundings. The references to a 'stripy cappuccino monster' and the scattering of three weeks worth of crumbs when Joe stands up are all nice, humourous touches which add some light to the piece.
The use of Joe's vomiting as a literal purge of his old self - his feeling of nostalgia as he sees the 'past' wash away - is a nice touch too, albeit a gross one.
I can't remember if you explained where Joe was living earlier in the narrative? I get the impression from this piece that it's a familyhouse that has been vacated by everyone except for Joe, is that right? Maybe this could be emphasised more throughout the rest of the text - references to the emptiness of his house, or memories of doing his homework at the kitchen table where he is now rolling a joint, little images that anchor him more in his past and tie him to the family that now seems so disperate and absent.
There were a few things that rankled with me:
1. In the third paragraph, in parantheses, you say "well not without a little trouble". This double negative comes off as quite clumsy and I think you should consider changing it to either "with more than a little trouble" or "not without some trouble." Either way, this will make the idea more fluid.
2. In paragraph four, there are three mentions of "the door" in the space of two sentences. The repetition is a bit too much, maybe consider changing the second "the door" to "it".
3. Paragraph 7 contains a great deal of action listing. The first three sentences list 9 actions. I understand that you are trying to show Joe's frustration in completing this task, but I think that some of these actions ould be implicit rather than explicit, in order to make the narrative flow better.
4. In paragraph 8, you have one sentence which has some pronoun confusion: "It's so bright, the tall bay windows filling the room from floor to ceiling with its brilliant glow." The first "It's" seems to refer to the room, but the second "its" may refer to either the light from outside or the windows themselves. This is really quite unclear, so I'd suggest replacing one of the "it"s with a noun to clear up the confusion.
All in all though, I thought it was an enjoyable story and I will miss reading about Joe and his exploits. Did you write the story itself in episodes, as we have read it, or did you write it one chunk, then cut it into episodes? If you wrote it in episodes, it might be worth going back and reading the whole thing through a few times, to make sure that the chapters flow nicely into one another. I know, in the past I have been guilty of disjointed stories and I'd hate for the same to happen to you.
Sad as I am to see this story end, I can't wait to see some new characters and themes from you next month!
The End? Really? You’re writing Joe in volumes too yeah, cos for me this was the end to a period in Joe’s life but not the ending to his fiction. Have you written the next batch of chapters and do you know how that ends? So many new and unanswered questions which for any ending is a troubling. That’ on the one hand because on the other your writing has improved in since you first joined and that’s the real victory isn’t it? There is more awareness of repetition (though this chapter slides in that respect), a willingness to use other senses apart from sight and hearing, to have Joe commit himself to action rather than have him sit and think and think and think…loads of improvement. Still, the ending was a little anti-climatic and here’s where I get constructive:
ReplyDelete‘I lurch into the room, groping at the pieces of furniture that aren't moving and yank open the bathroom door.’
This is an oft used trick to put us in the perspective of the first person and it stood out for me (I don’t think you did this much at all when you first joined so bravo for the bravery to describe in this way).
‘It's been decorated in “neutral colours” meaning it looks like a stripy cappuccino monster threw up everywhere then passed out in the corner and someone mistook it for a bed.’
Leanne liked this for good reason but would have liked more flair in describing the bathroom since it represents a pocket of fresh air in a place that is literally stale with memories.
‘I wish the rest of the house felt this way. I may have to move down here.’
LOVED this. Pure Joe; the dude can’t bring himself to sort out his mess and would rather leave it behind to start anew. Writing in a link to his gathering of new pals might be worthwhile here? It would combine his action to his inner thought that births into his sorting himself out/shaving. I find his decision to sort himself out lacking in believability. Maybe you could illustrate how many times he’s tried to pick himself up to only fall into boozing again?
‘I find a bottle of strawberry bubble bath that hasn't been opened, so I crack the lid and take a deep breath. I'm instantly reminded of my mum and I feel a pang of guilt coz I've been ignoring her recently. I pledge to be a better son and ninja roll towards the bath tub dumping half the bottle into it. Within a few minutes the scent of my mum fills the room.’
This is an opportunity that could be foreshadowed by the description of the houses smell? Have most of the place reeking and push the idea that he really finds sanctuary here. I can’t help but think of this place resembling a pocket of air that he has found in a life cap-sized. It would in fact be typical of Joe to fancy never leaving here and hey, do Sainsbury’s deliver to bathrooms? Something silly and self-centred like that yes?
‘I ninja crawl back to the cupboard and rummage around a bit more.’
He is enjoying the freedom of an empty house, possibly going a bit mad in the process. I like, but have other words to use instead of ninja? You rely on the word and not the idea no less than three times. Try expanding on the fantasy using phrases like ‘Ninjitsu-skills’ ‘Oriental mastery’ ‘I do my action hero in enemy territory crawl’ ‘Bruce Lee impression’ etc, etc…just so long as you keep the idea alive using different words then I won’t be jolted out of the story and thinking of it as a tale. Just thought, fiction is a lie that readers want to believe in – good writers are more than happy to make the belief easier.
‘I've got to get up. I've got to shower, I need to eat properly and I need to get out of this fucking house. So what if Jonie doesn't want me. So what if she hasn't bothered to call me in three fucking weeks. So what if my life is completely and utterly fucked. I don't need Jonie, I can make new friends, in fact I can make my old friends.’
ReplyDeleteI don’t believe in Joe suddenly thinking – right, I gotta get out of the house. Surely he has been here before but not quite made it? Show us this, don’t think it will be long-winded as him getting out of this state (which could have felt longer to be honest) is the most important turning point of the whole story.
‘I get the impression from this piece that it's a family-house that has been vacated by everyone except for Joe, is that right?’ – Leanne Moden/Crimson Eblog
When I started writing the only character I could think of was Spiderfingers and any thoughts about the importance of a supporting cast were fuzzy. Taking Jonie out of the picture reveals your non-interest in giving Joe a family. If they have gone away then it hasn’t been emphasised enough for us to truly feel his isolation – the dude has always been isolated. That may be the point of the story but for anything fantastical (and his life is a fantastical alternative to the average reader) to have believability, you have to cover the reasons how and why much more than you’ve shown us. It won’t take long – just the odd mention here and there and of course a few practical actions (bill paying, correspondence, looking into other rooms BEFORE this episode).
I really hope this proves useful and as you may or may not remember, the first ever arc of Spiderfingers really didn’t have as much growth in style or convention grasp as this – keep writing and remain open to different approaches on ‘finished’ material.
Yowser!
ReplyDeleteDespite the fact you placed an Elvis lyric in my mind (I'm not an Elvis fan) this was a good read ^_^
I thought the observations were good, and from my experience pretty accurate ^_^ ...I didn't really have any moments I had to stop and second guess the situation etc,
The only thing that stood out to me worth mentioning was use of 'coz' in stead of 'because'.
I should offer some suggestion, unfortunatly things like structure arn't my strong point, but
- The impression I get is that the whole chapter is building towards this decision at the end, leaving us with the actual action about to start. ..so its a cliffhanger.
I'm left wondering will he go through with it or not.
- As for everything else there is quite alot description in there and I would say an adequate amount of description for the overall tone/pace but maybe a little more embelishment would work too,
- My most favouraite piece of imagary is the part about 'the only piece of furnature not moving' and the under floor heating (oh the memories ^_^) ...yes anyways, from experience I can tell you the moment you realise how good the underfloor heating is is the fame moment you reaise how great/bad alot of things on floor/eye level is ;) ...So I would suggest adding a few more observationd there.
Final reflections;
There is a metaphore that always springs to mind when a character cuts hair, you know where I'm going ^_^
So a few questions spring in to mind.
Is he metaphoricaly and symbolically sheding his troubles?
or ...is he sacraficing his powers? (Samson).
And ultimatly will he achieve any thing by it?
..but then again he could just be cutting his hair, or some other reason.
....But!
Being that this is part of a larger thing all may have or could be explained at some past/future point.
I hope these eclectic scribblings of mine are of some use,
I'll look forward to reading the next installment!!