Chapter One

I: I Just Need to Start Again Chapter One

Yes, here would do.

Amelia stopped the car, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. Her eyes surveyed their surroundings, wary but calculating. Yes, it would do. A nice, big, inconspicuous high street in a big town, the sort of place that made it easy to hide. That was all they would need, along with enough stores to keep them fed for a while.

She twisted round in her seat, smiling at her five-year-old daughter in the backseat. Jasmine had only just woken up, and now blinked owlishly back at her mother with a confused frown knitting her fair brows together.

‘Where are we?’ asked Jasmine.

‘Our new home,’ answered Amelia.

Jasmine considered her for a few moments. Then she said, in the most hopeful yet cautious voice Amelia had ever heard from her, ‘Can we stay this time?’

Amelia sighed softly, flexing her fingers as she removed her hand from the steering wheel. The beginnings of a headache were creeping in, and she had no answers for her questioning daughter.

The truth was, she didn’t know. She never knew. They hopped from town to town, city to city, state to state, and the longest they’d ever settled was two years, back when Jasmine had only just been born. And now here they were. New town, new state. And Amelia had no idea what to expect from Georgia.

‘Come on,’ Amelia said instead of answering. ‘Let’s go on in, shall we?’

She got out of the car, helping Jasmine out, too, and the mother and daughter stood hand in hand, facing the building that would be their home for the time being.

It wasn’t the best apartment building, and it looked like it was falling to pieces, but they’d lived in worse places. It was cheap, and that was the main thing. Just for now, just for now, just for now. Amelia glanced down at Jasmine, who was staring up at the building with a dubious look on her face, and repeated it as a mantra in her mind. Just for now. They’d find somewhere else, somewhere better, once Amelia had sorted out her work and contacts. And then they’d be fine. Then they’d be okay.

In the front of the building stood their new landlady, a little old lady with a scowl for child-scaring and eyes for judging.

‘Hi there,’ Amelia said as they approached her, plastering a smile on her face. ‘I’m Amelia Lagrand, we’re renting number 24?’

‘Yeah, I heard,’ the woman drawled. She held out a hand,and Amelia took it, expecting a shake. Instead, she got the keys shoved into her palm. ‘Third floor. Rent’s due on the fifth. Stay out of my way and we should be fine.’

Amelia blinked slowly. She felt a familiar stinging feeling in her eyes, and her heart raced with anxiety at the thought of crying, here, now, in front of Jasmine. She blinked the tears away fiercely, refusing to let this one bad encounter color her judgement. This was just one grumpy landlady. Most landowners were dickheads. That was part of the status quo. Amelia would not let this get in the way of her new beginning.

Because that’s all she wanted, really. A new beginning. A new, fresh start, her and Jazz. A place to stay, a good school close by, and a town full of work opportunities.

Maybe that was too much to ask for, these days.

‘Thank you,’ she said to the landlady.

The landlady raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Instead, she gave her a curt nod, turned, and shuffled into the building.

As soon as she was gone, Jasmine was clutching her mother’s hand a little tighter.

‘She’s scary,’ she said.

Amelia swallowed. ‘She sure is.’ She looked down at her, forcing a smile on her face and squeezing Jasmine’s hand. ‘We’ll have an adventure here, Jazz. Don’t you worry.’

Jasmine looked like she was worrying very much, but she smiled back anyway, her cheeks dimpling just like her mother’s. Together, Amelia believed they could do this. All they needed was each other, really. That’s how they’d survived so far. And no matter what life threw at them, they would keep on surviving.

 

~

 

The inside of the apartment was slightly better than the outside, which was a snippet of positivity they needed.

The wallpaper was cheap, but it existed, and the carpets were cleaner than most apartments of this price. There was a bit of mould on the ceiling, but it was nothing a good lick of paint couldn’t fix. The apartment was furnished, though that term seemed to have been used lightly in the newspaper listing. There was a sofa, a coffee table, a stand for a TV, and a kitchen table and single chair. The kitchen looked disgusting and the surfaces of the counters were sticky to the touch. The floor needed a good vacuum and mop, but that wasn’t too unattainable. There was even some pasta in the cupboard, though Amelia wondered at just how many bugs would be festering in that bag.

All in all, however, it wasn’t that bad. At least they had a sofa, even if the leather was peeling and one of the arms was breaking. It was a start. And that’s what they’d come here for in the first place. A start.

‘Okay, baby,’ Amelia said, rolling her shirtsleeves up to the elbows. ‘Let’s go get our stuff from the car, and then we’ll get take-out. Sound good?’

Jasmine perked up at the thought of take-out, and nodded with the most enthusiasm she’d shown for the past month.

Unpacking didn’t take long, considering how little belongings the two of them actually had. The bedrooms, as they investigated the rest of the apartment, were not bad at all. Amelia’s was a double, and Jasmine’s a single, and both of them came with bedside tables, wardrobes, and even lamps. The bathroom, which of course was shared between the two of them, was actually clean, with working taps on the bath and a flushing toilet. The more they explored the nooks and crannies of the apartment, the more positive the two of them became. And as they sat there on their new sofa a few hours later with Chinese in their hands, they were both feeling hopeful.

Jasmine was draped across her mother’s lap, munching away on her chow mein with a thoughtful look on her face. She didn’t seem able to stop looking around her, her doe eyes taking everything in. Sometimes, Amelia’s heart broke a little just looking at her. Just seeing how such an innocent, kind little girl had been dragged through the mud time and time again, and could still somehow reserve a place in her heart for hope that one day, they’d get to the grassy bank on the other side. Amelia had never been much of an optimist. Since she’d had her daughter, however, she had made an internal and external effort to see the silver linings. It was the least she could do.

Slowly chewing, Jasmine leaned her head back onto the arm of the sofa that wasn’t broken. She smiled up at Amelia, the first smile to reach her eyes in days.

‘We’ve got this, Mommy,’ she said, so seriously that Amelia blinked. ‘I love you more than bees.’

Amelia laughed, ruffling her fair hair. ‘I love you too, kid.’

We’ve got this. That was another mantra Amelia had to repeat.

It’s amazing, she thought, what kids can come out with. It was so simple, and yet, it held so much meaning. We’ve got this.

Midway through dinner, the telephone rang. Both Amelia and Jasmine started at the sound. In their investigation of the house, neither of them had noticed the telephone. Still, Amelia supposed it was an obvious thing to put in an apartment. These days, anyway.

Amelia patted Jasmine’s knee to get her to move and went to go and answer it.

‘Amelia Lagrand,’ she said as a way of greeting.

‘Hey, you!’ a soft male voice answered.

She couldn’t help giving a sigh of relief. A friendly voice was always welcome, especially a familiar one. ‘Robin, thank God. How’d you get my phone number? I’ve barely been here two hours.’

‘I’m friends with your landlady,’ Robin answered. ‘Lovely woman, don’t you think?’

‘Har de har. I’m surprised you haven’t come to wrestle your way in already.’

‘I’ve been busy,’ he confessed. ‘Things have changed since we were kids, you know. Got loads of responsibilities now.’

‘You did then, too. You just ignored them.’

‘Don’t bully me over a phone, Bess.’

Amelia smiled. The last time she’d spoken to him over a telephone was, what, four years ago? She’d called to tell him she’d had a baby. She remembered how he’d practically screeched down the phone at her, so excited on her behalf.

It was good to speak to him now. It made her wonder what he was like in person, all grown up. As a kid, he’d been a pretty, blond, flighty little thing, as delicate-looking as his name suggested. She’d written to him as an adult, and telephoned, but she’d never seen him. She felt simultaneously too old and too young all at once.

‘I was just calling to ask how you’re settling in,’ Robin said.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Amelia answered, ‘We’re okay. Only been here a few hours, but we’ve pretty much done the unpacking. Now onto the decorating. And, y’know, buying things.’

He laughed. His laugh hadn’t changed at all. ‘You should come down to the studio next weekend. We’ve got an art gallery showing, and it’d be great for connecting.’

She smiled. Robin, even after all this time, was concerned about how she was going about job-hunting. He knew she was an artist, as he’d reached out before offering her various jobs in a futile attempt to get her to return to Georgia, but now it sounded very real now that she was actually here.

‘I would, but Jasmine…’ she began.

‘Bring her along! Give the kid some culture,’ he suggested.

‘She’s five, Robin.’

‘Bess, don’t pass up an opportunity like this. You’ve just got here. I doubt you’ve got any work planned. So, come to the showing, connect with some people, and get yourself out there. Besides, it’s good for socializing.’

She rolled her eyes, glad for once that he couldn’t see her. ‘Robin…’

‘Give it a try.’

He wasn’t going to give up. It was the whole, true purpose of this phone call, thinly veiled as friendly catching up.

Although it was a good opportunity, and literally within hours of moving in...

‘I’ll consider it,’ she relented. ‘Give me your phone number and I’ll ring if I need the address.’

He gave her his number and the address, apparently assuming he’d already won. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, both saying how wonderful it would be to meet up, how great it was that they were now so close, and finally Amelia said her goodbyes and placed the phone back on the wall.

F*****g Robin. Of course.

She returned to the lounge, already starting to ask Jasmine if she wanted a bedtime story, to find that there was no need.

Jasmine had fallen asleep on the sofa, head lolling, face peaceful.

Amelia smiled. Carefully, she lifted the child into her arms, as gentle as any mother would be, and carried her off to her new bedroom.

She tucked her in tight, leaned over, and kissed her forehead.

‘Goodnight, honey,’ she murmured, stroking the hair out of her face. ‘It’s gonna be okay, you know? We’re gonna be okay.’

Jasmine, deep in sleep already, did not answer.

But as Amelia turned out the lights and made her way to her own bedroom, she couldn’t help wondering whether that was true at all.

We’ve got this.

Damn, she hoped her kid was right.

 

Reviews

[JayG]

Well…you did ask. You’ve worked hard on this, and invested yourself emotionally in it. So this may be hard to take. But since it’s not a matter of talent, potential as a writer, or even the story, I thought you would want to know.

You asked if the story is interesting. And though it seems counterintuitive, that’s your first mistake, because plot is way down on the list of things that matter to a reader. You’re also thinking cinematically, and telling the reader what you visualize happening in the scene you’re mentally viewing. But our medium doesn’t reproduce vision or sound, so telling the reader what YOU see is a waste of time. What matters to a reader is what matters to the protagonist. She stopped the car because the GPS said to, or her knowledge of the location that she was heading to said to stop. But you provide her reaction to the place—as if the reader knows what made her react, and where she is. But they don’t, so they have no context for what’s going on. All we know is that someone named Amelia, who could be seventeen or seventy, stopped a car in an unknown place, for unknown reason, in an unknown era, country, and even planet. Is it 1937? 1980? 2047? You give no hint.

But suppose you’d opened with:
- - - -
“You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS said, as Amanda pulled to the parking lot. Before turning off the engine she studied the area. It was exactly what the agent claimed, a decent apartment building, just outside downtown Gailsberg, and on a decent street. A good place to hide, for now.
- - - -
Look at the difference:
• The first line places us in an era where GPS is common, probably our own, and at the end of a journey to go to that spot. By making up the town’s name, I implied that it’s not a big city, while the parking lot says it’s not a tiny town because it supports an apartment large enough to need a parking lot.
• We’re placed in space and the reader knows that for whatever reason, she’s there to visit an apartment in that building.
• The second line tells us that the car is probably gas-powered, which further reinforces the idea of modern time.
• Studying the area is what you or I would do on arriving at a strange place, and, the line gives us reason to tell the reader what the place is like—in HER opinion— and makes them expect and want that description, rather then simply having it dumped on them.
• So, we get the result of her inspection, in the form of what matters to her in the moment she calls now. Someone else might notice how old the buildings in the area are, any greenery, or think about what kind of people live there. Another might react that it seems a safe neighborhood. How our protagonist reacts tells us about her, which is character development. And it is her story, after all. So what matters to you is irrelevant. In other words, she’s living living the story in real-time, while you can only talk about it in overview. Which do you think a reader likes better?
• She concludes that the place is safe, and we learn why that matters, which implies that there are things about her that we want to know, and expect to learn. In other words, a hook

Does the reader care that there are stores nearby? Of course not. There are always stores. And you don’t have to explain what the stores sell.

The difference between this and the original? You’re reporting. From your viewpoint: “Her eyes surveyed their surroundings, wary but calculating.” That’s an observation, reported by a dispassionate external observer. So it’s what YOU observe/explain. The approach I used is to view the scene as she does, and notice only what matters to HER, not someone viewing her. As an aside, find a mirror, and try to make your eyes “wary and calculating.” When you stop laughing you’ll know why I suggest eliminating it. ;)

When you talk about what happens next, you explain things, like her daughter just waking. But does that matter? Would the story change had she been awake for an hour, or if she had to wake her? No. So why report it? The only thing it does is slow the narrative. If you want it for ambience, have her call, “You awake back there, kiddo?” and then turn, to have her daughter say something like, “Just barely,” or “Sure.” In other words, natural conversation, in place of the words of a script.

Here’s the thing: The problem you face is that all your training in writing, like that of everyone you know, is in the nonfiction writing skills we spent so much time perfecting in our school years, as they trained us to be useful to our future employers. And they do that because employers need nonfiction writing skills that are fact-based and author-centric—made to inform—which is how this story is currently written. And while we know that all professions are learned AFTER we master The Three R’s (Reading, wRiting, and aRithmatic), we somehow never connect that to fiction writing, and so, use those report-writing skills when we turn to fiction. Unfortunately, fiction’s goal is to entertain the reader with an emotional, not an informational, experience. And that takes character-centric and emotion-based writing skills.

The solution? Simple. Just add the skills of the fiction-writing pro to those you currently own. Unfortunately, simple and easy aren’t synonymous. We are, after all, learning the tricks and specialized knowledge of a difficult-to-master profession—a body of skills as large as the ones we worked so hard learning through our school years.

Still, if you are meant to be a writer, the learning will be fun, a lot like going backstage at the theater. And because every profession is filled with things that seem obvious once pointed out, you will spend a lot of time saying, “That’s so simple…why didn’t I see it before?”

There are lots of ways to acquire the necessary skills online. I’m immodest enough to think that the articles in my writing blog will give a feel for the issues involved (but not teach you the subject) and thus be useful. But for the professional view go to the pro. And your local library’s fiction writing section is filled with their views. As I so often do, I suggest you seek the names, Dwight Swain, Jack Bickham, or Debra Dixon on the cover.

For a low cost overview, download the audios of Dwight Swain’s workshops in fiction and character creation—Dwight Swain, Master Writing Teacher—from an online bookseller. It’s about $6 US, and well worth listening to, if only for his comments on publishers, other writers, and killing people with a doorknob. And if you find that as fascinating as I did, pick up his, Techniques of the Selling Writer. It’s not an easy book, but it is the best I’ve found to date.

But whatever you do…hang in there, and keep on writing.

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

[solsystemtillnervsystem]

First of all, thank you for such a detailed review. I do respect and appreciate constructive criticism, so I hope you don't think this is me taking offence to what you've said--it's not. Some of the points you’ve raised are spot-on and I thank you for raising them.

Secondly, I’d like to just mention that English is not my first language, so if this reply seems a bit scrambled, that’ll be why. Also, this story is a first draft (I know, I’ve actually gone into the dreaded territory that all writers run from), so there are some mistakes littered around--like I said, I’ve written this for fun. I’m in the process of writing two novels alongside this, so this is mainly a side-project, and they’re my main projects--they’ll be the ones that I tear to pieces in the editing process.

Some of the criticism you’ve given me doesn’t really make sense to me, or at least, I disagree with it. For example, you mentioned that the perspective should be close third-person, but close third-person isn’t really what I’m going for, and as I’m sure you know, it’s only one of many types of third-person perspective writing. You said, “That’s an observation, reported by a dispassionate external observer. So it’s what YOU observe/explain” and called this story “author-centric”, with which I respectfully disagree. This is intended to be a bit of a mix between close and omniscient third-person narrative, which explains why I make observations as a narrator and not as Amelia. Amelia is not the narrator. If that doesn’t come across, then I will take it in my stride and edit until it does.

The date/year is deliberately ambiguous. You don’t need to tell a reader what year it is to engage them. Take a look at Lemony Snicket, for example; when he was asked what year his “A Series of Unfortunate Events” takes place in, he answered, “the year of the rat”. There are countless authors who write without mentioning the time, date, or even decade. It’s all up to the reader to decide. On a similar note, if the first chapter is raising questions, isn’t that engaging the reader? I personally want my readers to be asking questions. I’m not going to give everything away in the first chapter. I apologize if I’m misunderstanding you, but that’s how your point comes across.

I also have a problem with this bit: “Does the reader care that there are stores nearby? Of course not. There are always stores. And you don’t have to explain what the stores sell.” 1) This is a description of setting, telling the reader that they are on a high street. 2) It is supposed to suggest that Amelia and Jasmine have not been around stores for a while, I.e. they haven’t had a home for a while. It’s a hint of background that that’s the first thing Amelia takes note of. I understand if that seems a bit pointless, but in my writing I like to share “pointless” information which will later be of significance. That’s just my writing style. This kind of goes into your next point, about mentioning that the daughter has woken up. You say this has no significance. The first bit of significance is that the daughter was not mentioned before this line, so it tells the audience she has a child in her car. The second is that the child is obviously young if she’s falling asleep on car journeys. The third is that Amelia has to be old enough to have a child. I don’t think it’s insignificant to mention a whole other character.

I hope this reply doesn’t come across as defensive or rude, because that’s not how I intended it. Some of your points I do agree with, and I’m aware of the mistakes in this story (to reiterate, I’m not really focusing on this kind of editing, but editing in general, I.e. the skeleton of the story). However, I do think you’ve misunderstood some things, too.

Again, thank you for your review. I do appreciate it, even if it sounds like I don’t. I just think we are coming from different perspectives when it comes to writing.

[JayG]

• Some of the criticism you’ve given me doesn’t really make sense to me, or at least, I disagree with it.

Feel free to disagree, They were suggestions, not commandments. Keep in mind though that my background includes teaching at workshops, owning a manuscript review service, and having been though the publication process more than just a few times, seven of them at a publishing house.

Added to that, the views I expressed were not mine. they're what you would hear in any course on commercial fiction writing. Many of them come from Dwight Swain, the author of the book I suggested. And he used to fill auditoriums when he went on tour with his workshops.

• For example, you mentioned that the perspective should be close third-person, but close third-person isn’t really what I’m going for, and as I’m sure you know,

No, I did not say that a word about close or distant viewpoint. I said that the viewpoint should be the protagonist's, not yours. In this it's yours. You, someone the reader can neither hear nor see, are explaining the action to the reader, far too often in overview. You're not on the scene, nor are you in the story. And, the reader cannot hear any emotion in your voice or view your performance. Nor do they have access to your intent. Can someone we can neither see nor hear make us feel as if we're living the story in real time? That matters because readers are seeking an emotional, not an informational experience.

What you're presenting isn't a matter of close or distant, viewpoint. It's that you're reporting what's happening in a scene the reader has no access to, and far too often placing effect before cause. In the opening line, for example, we learn of her reaction to what she sees before we know what she sees. That cannot feel remotely real to the reader because only the author can talk about effect before cause. So line one places you between the reader and the character they came to see, blocking the view. Were a film presented the way you present this story, with a narrator talking about what he can see happening on a screen, who would stay?

Then short version: Your protagonist must be the reader's avatar, not the person that someone is talking about.

I know what you're trying to do, but with no more then the nonfiction writing skills we're given in school you're working with an impossible handicap:

• You're thinking visually, in a medium that does not reproduce vision. You talk about "stores." But the reader doesn't know where we are in time and space. They know nothing about her, or her needs. So what does the term store mean to the reader? Nothing. As Professor Jack Bickham observed: “To describe something in detail, you have to stop the action. But without the action, the description has no meaning.”

Add to that, James Schmitz,'s “Don’t inflict the reader with irrelevant background material—get on with the story.” And you have the reason why, were this opening to hit an acquiring editor's desk it would be rejected before the end of page one.

Why do I stress this? Because you're writing other novels, and working hard on them. But I looked, and the approach to writing them is the same as this one. With the line, "Lukas turned his head, ignoring how the bricks dug into his scalp as he did so," your audition in the publisher's office will end. Why? Because if the protagonist is ignoring it, and it's not causing damage that will effect future actions, why does the reader care? He might scratch his balls, or fart while they talk. If you don't include that, why include this? It's irrelevant detail because it doesn't develop character, set the scene meaningfully, or move the plot. All it does is slow the narrative, and that's the kiss of death.

Our medium, unlike life, is serial. In life, in the time it takes for an eyeblink, a viewer takes in the entire visual scene, your protagonist's appearance and all that goes with it, the visual ambience, and more. Try to give the reader a fraction of that and they must read pages of visual detail, and the story crawls. Give them less and it's too generic to be meaningful.

The techniques of writing for the page takes into account the mandates and limitations of our medium, which dramatically differ from screenwriting. But...did your teachers explain the difference between a scene on the page and one on screen or stage? No, because they were teaching you skills useful to employers, not the professional skills of the fiction-writer. Did they explain how the various elements of a scene work together, and how things like the short-term scene-goal help the reader? If not, how can you write a scene the reader will recognize as one? More to the point, how can you write a scene an acquiring editor will love?

Remember, that acquiring editor is a stand-in for the customer, and accepts or rejects based on how the paying reader will react to the prose. But your reader has been consuming only professionally written and produced fiction since they began to read. So they expect the same experience from your work. But...how can you use the tool you don't know exists? How can you correct the problem you don't recognize as being one? And given that the problems with this story begin with the first line, some time spent picking up the tricks of the trade—the things the pros take for granted—some time spent acquiring your writers education makes a lot of sense.

Remember, I'm not talking about your talent or future as a writer. Nor does it have to do with the story. Everything I said relates to issues of craft.

And while most people believe we learn how stories are constructed by reading fiction, do we learn to cook by eating? Consuming any finished product tells us nothing about the choices made by the one creating it, or where, and why a choice was made.

But, as I said, what you do is entirely up to you. You can write in any way you care to...unless you want to sell your work to readers or to a publisher. Then, they make the rules. So it pays to know how to please them.

Hope this clarifies.