Prologue

Start of Senior Year

"Hey Freak, stay out of my way!" Vivian the main Mean girl in my school says as she shoves me to the side and marches her way into the school.

I was hoping that this year would prove to be different. Unfortunately it seemed as though it was going to be the same as it's always has been.

Except this year, I had lost all of my weight over the summer and I couldn't wait to show off my new lean body. I vowed to myself that I would never go back to being overweight either, this was who I wanted to be. Well I was always considered to be a freak due to my weight, but now I didn't think anyone could have an issue to my appearance now.

I have long lightly wavy reddish brown hair, sharp crystal Blue eyes which I encased in some makeup. I usually don't wear any, except on special occasions. My plump lips I painted in a soft pink color, almost matching my top. I had on a light pink tank top, covered with a Levi jacket, paired with skinny Levi jeggings and a pair of pink vans on my feet. Personally I thought I looked fine, I do not know why some people acted so superior around me. But I've come to terms with it, mostly.

I get straight A's and almost always end the year with top marks in my class. But that very rarely matters to those around me rushing to either find their friends they hadn't seen all summer or to get to class.

Sighing to myself I readjusted my bag and head to where my new locker was supposed to be. According to my schedule I had A.P. English up first, I enjoyed English, I always thought it was fascinating the story and poems that were created by people long ago.

I reached my locker, while a bunch of students stampede through the halls. Turning I notice my locker was just down from the popular group who always loved to cause me trouble.

"Hey Kayla, I thought we were going to ride together." Skyler asks as she walks up behind me. She steps up to the locker besides mine and opens it, at least I was next to my best friend.

"I'm sorry Sky, I forgot. My mom gave me a ride this morning. She wanted to." I reply turning I put my combination into the lock and opened my own locker. Trying to fit my bookbag into the small space.

"Hey is that you Freak?" A guy I knew said slamming his big fist into the locker on the other side of mine. It was Jason Campbell, He was one of the popular guys who never usually paid me any attention.

He was wearing a plain red T-shirt that showed off his bulging muscles. He also had on some dark blue jeans that were slightly worn down in certain areas. His eyes held his pride visibly and his hair was a mass of dark brown he wore messy. I've always had to deal with these guys, many, many times before. I knew that ignoring him which is what I wanted to do wouldn't accomplish much, but I wanted to piss him off so I stayed quiet.

"Hey I'm talking to you. FREAK." He started to raise his voice. Me being the smart a*s I am just looked at him with my eyebrows slightly drawn up, and looked away again.

"Hey, I am talking to you. What are you deaf?" He was practically yelling at this point and people started to gather around to watch.

"NO."

"NO what?" He yelled.

"If I was deaf I couldn't hear the nasty name you love to call me, and if I was blind I wouldn't be gagging at the sight of you standing there picking on me." I stated in a nice calm tone. I again turned back to my locker and started to gather things I needed for English. Once I had everything gathered in my hands, he swatted at them making me drop them on the floor where they landed with a thwack.

"Oops." Is all he said, placing a devilish smile on his face.

I caught the sight of Skyler hurrying off to her class. Thanks a lot, I thought to myself as I looked down at my class supplies all on the floor in front of me. I sighed, "Are you really so deeply lost in your inferiority complex that you have to turn to petty little middle school moves to make yourself feel adequate in situations that you otherwise shouldn't be involved in?"

Leaning down I began to pick up my class supplies. I feel as his hand wraps around my wrist and he pulls me up to stand on my tiptoes. "Say that again, B***h I dare you!" He fisted his hand right in my face. Looking from his fist back up to his face, I let out a deep breath.

"Violence, really? You would hit a girl wouldn't you? What would your Mommy think? Didn't she ever teach you to use your words and not your fists?" I felt a strong wave of adrenaline swarm over me.

"That's it!" He swung his fist out quickly, nearly hitting my face. Nearly. I dodged right and he stubbed forward with the force from his punch, he dropped his hold on me as he stumbled forward into the lockers. He slid down to the ground, and everyone around us started to laugh.

"Well, I'm sorry but I have to get to class now. Don't want to be late, but if you ever want to finish this conversation another time. I'd be happy to teach you some manners." I shoved my way through the crowd leaving him there on the ground. The crowds laughter growing louder with my last comment.

I walked into class just as the bell rang, I guess my confrontation with Jason took up more time than I thought it had.

I made my way to an empty seat near the back of the classroom. The teacher clears her throat as she walks up to the front. She introduced herself as Mrs. Davis. She was a younger lady, with shoulder length jet black hair. She was wearing a very sophisticated navy blue dress with matching navy blue heels, black rimmed glasses framing her pretty face.

"Alright class, I do not want you to think of this class as an easy A. This is A.P. English, meaning it is going to be hard." She stated, there was a motion at the door and everyone looked up. Including me. Jason was at the door.

He walks up to Mrs. Davis and hands her a late slip. Oh great he's in this class! He looked at me and clenched his jaw. He made his way to the only empty seat in the class which happened to be the one right behind me.

"I'd watch my back, if I were you." He said under his breath, I could feel his warm breath on the back of my neck as he leaned down. Great. I rolled my eyes looking unamused and got back to paying attention to the teacher, to the lesson.

Reviews

[JayG]

First: Her name is Emily Rudd, an actress, and you do NOT have permission to use her image—or anyone else's in your stories.

And think about it. If the person in the story looked like that, they would never say that people acted superior around them.

That aside, you're trying to tell this as if the reader can hear your voice, as a narrator. But can they hear your voice, all filled with emotion? No. Can they see your gestures or expressions? No again. So All the emotion is pulled from the story. We can't talk to the reader and expect them to know how we would speak those words. For that reason, the narrator can only talk about things that support the story. They can't tell it.

It's a very different way of writing from the nonfiction we learn while preparing for a productive and employed adult life. Fiction, with its goal of providing a reader with an emotional experience, rather than one that's informational, like nonfiction, requires a very different approach—one that must be learned in addition to the skills that our schooldays impart. And that makes sense, given that all professions are learned after we get the basic 3 R's that employers require. Remember how many reports and essays you wrote compared to the numbers of stories you were assigned? Remember how much your teachers DIDN"T spend on the structure of a scene on the page, how to handle tags, and the otrher basics of fiction?

Look at a few things as a reader who knows only what the words have said to any given point would view them.

• Except this year, I had lost all of my weight over the summer

Clearly, as stated, this person weighs nothing. Not what you intended, but it was what you said.

• I reached my locker, while a bunch of students stampede through the halls.

Rushed, possibly, but the definition of the word stampede is very different from what you intend. Choose your words with care, because you're not there to clarify when it's read.

• Turning I notice my locker was just down...

Pick a tense and stay with it. Such errors are like tiny splinters. You hardly notice them. But when the number of them add up...

• "I'm sorry Sky, I forgot. My mom gave me a ride this morning. She wanted to." I reply turning I put my combination into the lock and opened my own locker. Trying to fit my bookbag into the small space.

Okay... Sky walks up to our protagonist and speaks to her, and this is her reply. The quote marks, here, tell us it was speech, as do the words that are obviously in response to the question. And, she's the one we expect to speak since she was addressed by name. Why, after all that, explain who spoke? Never tell a reader what they already know. More than that, there's too much space between the start of the line and the tag. Keep it short, especially, when giving detail on how it was spoken, because it may be too late.

And watch that last line. It only works in speech, because you add a verbal em-dash with gesture and body language.

And, her putting things into the locker is implied, and part of a normal school day. So, do we really need to know—or care—that she set the combination, or what went in there. That's irrelevant visual detail that serves only to slow the narrative.

• A guy I knew said slamming his big fist into the locker on the other side of mine. It was Jason Campbell,

First you call him "a guy I know," and then explain his name? Just call him by name and you don't need the second line. Why does such a change matter? Because every unnecessary word you remove makes it read faster. And the more then happens in a minute of reading, the more punch it has.

One other thing: No one who has seen that picture of Emily Rudd is going to seriously believe that ANY highschool boy would act that way toward her.

Bottom line: You show potential, but you're still using the nonfiction skills we given in school, and it's holding you back, big-time. You're explaining instead of making the reader live the scene as her. You're also thinking visually in a medium that doesn't reproduce vision, so you're not using the strengths. Instead of telling the reader what can be seen, tell them what matters to the protagonist in the moment. It's not a matter to talent or potential, it's that you use the tools you have, and since no one ever tells us that writing fiction is very different from what we learned, and use on the job, we assume we have what we need. But with those skills the game changes.

For example, instead of the report on the weight she lost, and how she dresses, which is exactly as entertaining as any other report, thave her meet her friend on the way in, and have the Sky notice how much better she looks. That way, we learn how she looks to the friend, and in the protagonist's viewpoint, learn how pleased she is that people notice. That will make the crash when the boy doesn't react more emotional to her. Have Sky comment that she should go further, and use makeup that "matches the new you," plus sexier clothes. That will explain why the guy doesn't notice the change.

The key? Keep in mind that film places us on the scene, watching what happens. The printed word places us in the protagonist's head. Work with that, and you can make the scene real for the reader. Don't and it's someone we can't hear talking about things that can be seen, in overview.

Two suggestions: First, to give you an idea of how much you're currently missing, take a look at the writing articles in my blog. They're meant for someone in your position. To show what I'm talking about in action, there are a few stories there, too.

Then, pick up a copy of Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict. It's a really good first book, and will give you the nuts-and-bolts issue of creating scenes that take wing. Just be certain to take your time, and practice each point as it's introduced or you'll forget you heard it a week later.

An alternate book if you're up to it. It's the best one I've found, but it is a university level book and so can be dry at times: Dwight Swain's, Techniques of the Selling Writer. Deb was one of his students.

But over-all? Hang in there, and keep on writing. It's not a destination, it's a journey, one that lasts a lifetime.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/