First Week Of The Year

A new year began, and that's all that was new.

                                                                                     

"Hey, man, you want some beer?" 

The fellow reclining on the sidewalk step looked up at the black man, rather shocked. 

"What's the matter with you?" he said. "You want the cops to see you with that?"

"They ain't gonna do nothin', man," the black man said as he sat on the stoop. 

"They'll get you for public drunkeness." 

"Nah, they won't, man," the black man disagreed as he tossed his head back and took a gulp. He lowered the can back down. 

"You want some? Cops ain't gonna do nothin', man." 

The other fellow looked up at him, squinting in the sunlight. 

"How do you know?" 

"Man, you ain't heard? All the cops are down there at the protest over the election." 

"What protest?" 

"The one they are having for your government." 

"Not my government," the other fellow said, reaching out for the beer can. 

"Why you say that?"

The young man took a drink from the can, handed it back and gasped after swallowing. 

"My people were here before your government," he said. 

The black man laughed. 

"Well, you know my people had nothing to do with their government." Another hit from the beer then passed it back again. 

The sitting fellow took a swig, handed the can back. 

"Well," he said, "neither of us had a thing to do with their government, let's go see what they are protesting about." 

"Hang on," the black man said, taking a final drink from the can to empty its contents. 

"Yea, you might need that for where we're going. My name is Lon." 

"I'm Tod," he replied, helping Lon to his feet. "Let's go see what's going on." 

"Same thing that is always going on," Lon said, pointing to the waste basket for Tod to toss the beer can. Tod chunked the can into the basket and continued on with Lon. "These people protest. They disagree and are never satisfied with the results."

"You live in DC long?" Tod asked. 

"I've been here about ten years now. You?" 

Tod shrugged and looked down. 

"Oh, I come and go," he said looking in the opposite direction. 

The two men drew near the designated area, but stopped a good distance away. They stared at the mulling horde of people. 

"It's best to keep safe away from them when they are like this," Lon said. 

"Yea, I know. If we get too close and something happens, they might accuse us," Tod said. 

"My people learned long ago it does no good to challenge them," Lon said. "They just become more enraged when you disagree, then either stick to their ideas and act as tho they have compromised with you, or they think about it and take your idea as theirs."

"Why do they do that?" Tod asked. 

"I don't know," Lon replied. 

The commotion from the protesting mob became even louder. There seemed to be some movement. The crowd seemed to be shifting about for some reason. 

"Uh-oh," Tod said, "usually when that happens, the police are involved." 

"Law enforcement does not harm these," Lon said. 

"Yea, I know." 

Lon looked at Tod. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, man. I know you are aware of this. When your people are arrested, it is all you know how to do, but when they get arrested, they seem proud of themselves." 

"Back to that protesting bit, isn't it?" 

"It's why they came to my people's land. They did not like their leader, so they came here." 

The blaring mob seemed to be swirling even more. Lon And Tod watched intently. 

"What are they doing now?" Tod asked.

Lon watched as well. 

"They appear to be advancing on the structure," Lon said. 

"Wonder what they plan on doing?" Tod asked, leaning back on a tree. 

Lon smiled. 

"Whatever it is, it will be to their benefit." 

"It's always to their benefit. They either fought for it or fought against it." 

Loud sirens filled the air. 

"It makes you wonder why they bothered 'discovering' my ancestor's territory to begin with." 

"And then had to bring my folk into all of this." 

They stared up into the commotion. Flashing red lights on a vehicle passed by the two men. 

"Why do you think they fight like this?" 

"I dunno, man. It's like it's best to not even question what they do." 

"Yet still we do." 

Tod gave a faint smile. 

"It makes them free," he said, deadpanned. 

Lon stared a bit. 

"I think one group wants to be seen as a different race that stole my people's land and stole your people's freedom from what they now consider to be the other race who stole the land and stole the freedom." 

"You got a cigarette?" Tod asked. 

Lon reached into his jacket and took out a pack. He handed one off to Tod, then got one for himself. A lighter was produced and both items were lit. Deep exhales of smoke followed. 

"They want to be recognized for being different," Tod said, "but then they want everyone to be treated the same." 

"They always go on about that," Lon said, blowing smoke again after he spoke. 

"Well, that's what they told my kin. If you born here, you free." 

"Yea, they really spoon-fed that born free idea, didn't they?" 

"Yep," Tod replied, "gave them the freedom to do all of this." 

Faint shouts and screams were heard in the distance. 

"And they have to be different," Lon spoke quietly. "The more they want to be different, the more they act the same." 

Tod took a drag on his cigarette as he looked down at the ground. 

"They've always acted this way, toward anything." He blew out smoke in a long gust. 

Two young women walked by, heading in the direction of the protest. One had blue hair, the one one, a crew cut. As they passed the two guys standing at the tree, the women gave a quick glance, then turned away. Tod and Lon watched their seemingly hasty retreat. 

"And then they love their sports," Lon replied. Both men smiled. 

"Yea," Tod said, "but now they got politics all up in their sports, don't they?" 

"I guess that was the only way to get their attention." 

"Do you even know the words to that Star-Spangled anthem? Is that what it's called?" 

Lon hit the cigarette again. 

"Are you kidding?" he replied. "We used to make it a point to never learn that thing and just moved our mouths when we were supposed to be reciting it." 

"Good thing they never tried to get us to say it one at a time, ain't it?" 

Both men laughed, then became quiet. 

"Their American dream," Tod said. They both laughed again. 

"Land of the free," Lon spoke. 

"And home of the brave," they said in unison. 

"And look at how brave they are now," Tod added. 

"Truthfully, this just looks like a sportings event," Lon said. "From this distance anyway." 

"How they always end up acting." 

"Yep," Lon replied, taking another draw. He all but had nothing left but the filter. 

"I don't know why they can't just let a football game or basketball game solve their differences for them." 

"Nah, man," Tod said as he propped one leg behind him on the tree. "They got to have all the conflicts they can find. Sports, politics, money. If they can fight over it, they will." 

Lon tossed the cigarette butt away with his finger. 

"Well," Lon began, "don't see any of your people in this crowd." 

Tod laughed, tossing away his own cigarette.

"Man, why would you?" 

He then looked at Lon. 

"Think any of your tribes are up in all that?" 

Lon smiled, then laughed. 

"Yea, some of them did like stuff like this," he answered. "Any excuse to have a scuffle." 

"So," Tod began, "what do you think will be the result of all of this?"

"Same as it always is," Lon replied, quietly. "Same thing they do every time." 

A police motorcyle came toward their direction. They stood still and watched it. As it drew near, the officer looked at the two men, then slowed down. He stopped and got off his bike, walking toward them, speaking in his radio as he did so. 

Tod looked down the road from where the officer had come, the scene of protest with seemingly hundreds of people caught up in the fray, threatening this established government, and here was this officer approaching the two of them. 

Lon simply observed the officer as he drew closer. 

"Same thing they do every time," he whispered quietly for only Tod to hear him.      

Reviews

[JayG]

Okay, I screwed up. I forgot to record your name on my checklist when I critiqued your story a while ago, and did one of this story before I realized that I’d critiqued your work before.

I checked, and it appears that of the 76 pieces you’ve posted since the beginning of 2020, only three people have commented, and the number of people who stop by isn't all that high. That’s not because of your writing skill, though. It’s because in all that time, even AFTER you were told why your work wasn’t being read by more members, you’ve taken no steps to fix the problems and learn the skills of the fiction writer.

Had you spent the time it takes to write a few of those stories you post learning the necessary skills you’d be getting thank you notes from the readers you’re pleasing—perhaps even publishing contracts.

There's not the slightest difference between someone who has no talent and someone who has taken no steps to train their talent. None at all. You may have talent oozing from every pore. You may have none at all. But you’ll never know which it is till you take action.

And I say that as someone who wrote six novels, using my school-days writing skills, before I learned of the problem. But a year later, after digging into the skills of fiction-writing, I made the first of seven sales to publishers before I turned to self-releasing my work. Today, I have 29 books on Amazon.

So, since I wrote the critique, and I’m an optimist, for what it’s worth, and for the second time:


• "Hey, man, you want some beer?"

So…someone unknown, in an unknown place, is talking to someone else, for unknown reasons.

For you, who have context, this is a man who is outside, speaking to someone sitting by the sidewalk. And as you read you can hear the emotion in the speaker’s voice. You know his appearance, age, and everything about him. But in all the world, only you know that.

For a reader, this could be someone in the kitchen calling to a roommate. It could be someone asking a friend if he wants to go out to a bar. It could be picnickers, fishing buddies, or almost anything else. The speaker could be male or female, and of any age.

So for a reader the words tell them only that someone unknown asked a question for unknown reasons.

Why do I spend so much time on this? Two reasons. First, there can be no second first impression. So clarifying later helps not at all. And second, because this is where an agent or editor would reject the piece.

But…that rejection wouldn't come because of how well you write, or your talent. It’s because you, the author, are talking at the reader, explaining and reporting as a dispassionate outside observer. That's how we were taught to write, in school, as they gave us a set of general skills that employers want us to know, but it is NOT how fiction is written.

The nonfiction techniques we were given are perfect for writing reports and letters, because they’re fact-based and author-centric, and provide an informational experience. Fiction, though, is written with techniques that are emotion-based and character-centric, to provide an emotional experience.

When writing nonfiction we tell the reader that the protagonist was angry. When writing fiction we make the reader feel that anger for the same reason the protagonist does. And to do that requires a methodology that was not even mentioned as existing during our school years.

Why? Because professions—and Fiction-Writing is one—are acquired IN ADDITION to the general skills of our school days. Unfortunately, we forget that they offer degree programs in Commercial Fiction-Writing, and leave our school years believing that writing-is-writing, and we have that taken care of.

If only…

• The fellow reclining on the sidewalk step looked up at the black man, rather shocked.

You need to edit more carefully:

1. The “fellow?” He’s not important enough to have a name? Who cares about generic people?

One of the things we learn early, in any book on writing fiction is that the reader is NOT seeking to learn what happens. They want to be made to live the events in real-time, AS the protagonist. How can we understand why the people in the story say and do things if we don’t know the situation as they do? So, as authors, we focus on the character who has the greatest emotional investment in the events, and present the story from THEIR viewpoint. But in this, you’re thinking visually, and telling the reader what a filmgoer would see happening on the screen.

2. There cannot be a "sidewalk step" because the sidewalk, by definition, is flat. So as the reader finishes reading the word “sidewalk,” that’s where the man is, on the sidewalk. But then the word:”step” appears and confuses them. It should have been, “reclining on the steps to a house,” or, “reclining on the steps by the sidewalk.”

3. When you said, ”black man” you told the reader that he, his clothing, hair, skin, and shoes are jet-black. Because you should have said, “Black man,” which is how a racial designation is presented. Titles of all kind are capitalized.

My point: Because you lack the knowledge the pros take for granted, you’re winging it, and trying to do the imposible, write fiction with nonfiction tachniques.

It’s not your fault. We all do that when we turn to fiction because we all leave school not realizing that we are exactly as prepared to write fiction, and poetry, as to pilot a commercial airliner. But of more importance, it’s fixable.

If the writing isn’t working because you’re missing information the answer is simple: go and get it. You obviously want to write. And you’ve demonstrated that you have the necessary perseverance. So fix the thing that’s holding you back.

Will that be a snap—a list of, “Do this instead of that?” Of course not. It is a profession you’ll be learning. But…learning what you want to know is never a chore. And of greater importance, once you master those skills the act of writing takes daydreaming to a whole new and fun level, as the protagonist becomes your co-writer, whispering ideas, and warnings, in your ear as you write.

The library’s fiction-writing section has lots of books on the subject. Personally? I’d suggest starting with Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, which recently came out of copyright protection. It's the best I've found, to date, at imparting and clarifying the "nuts-and-bolts" issues of creating a scene that will sing to the reader. The address of an archive site where you can read or download it free is just below. Copy/paste the address into the URL window of any Internet page and hit Return to get there.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

Try a few chapters. Like the proverbial chicken soup for a cold, it might not help, but it certainly won’t hurt. And I think you’ll find your saying, “Hey…that’s so obvious. How could I have not seen it for myself?

So…I know this is pretty far from what you were hoping for, but knowing what the problem is the first step toward solving it.

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