Across The Pond Chapter 1

It's been a really long time, and I'm about to go review but I wanted to get this off my chest first; rough day, lads/: Welks, any feedback of any kind, good or bad, is much much appreciated. I will return the favor!

“It’s for the summer, in Europe with my God Mother.” I held the phone close to my ear with my shoulder as I sprawled myself out above my fluffy comfiture. “Dad says it will be good bonding time…” I turned to my side to look at the framed picture of my mother on the wall. It seems like just yesterday she was hustling and bustling around the house.
“Good bonding time?!” Lydia hollered into my ear from the receiver. “Good bonding time is when you’re stuck at home with a relative, good bonding time is when you’re hanging out with me watching movies when we have nothing to do on Friday nights. Spending an entire summer in another country with a woman you’ve never met is not good bonding time!” I chuckled at her obnoxious reasoning, toying with the ends of my wet hair. I looked above, outside the window at the moon. I could see the clouds in the sky, the bright stars twinkling. I often did that, stare at the sky.
“Lydia, she was my mom’s best friend.” I sat up, the hangnail on my left ring finger pulling in my attention. I heard her sigh and knew she wouldn’t say anything. “They went through grades second to twelfth together, dude. Apparently she never got married but was always here for me when I was a baby. I have a right to know who this woman is.” I reasoned with my best friend. Normally in these situations, I was the one freaking out. But when things had to do with my mom, I always found reasoning.
“Okay, but seriously. Three months? Why three?” I heard a bag of chips opening on the other end of the line, and then realized my own stomach growling. “I mean,” Lydia chomped down the salt and vinegar chips I knew she loved, “why can’t it be for the rest of the summer, then come back? I won’t see you until…October!” I heard her sip whatever beverage she was in to.
“September.” I corrected her as I trampled down the stairs of our large, empty home. It was just my dad and I, and that damn, sketchy cat I hated in this place. “I’ll be back for my twentieth birthday.” I stated as I opened one of the pantries in our large kitchen. My mom loved to cook, which meant that every house they bought had to be equipped with a big enough kitchen for all her “creative” messes.
“I really, really don’t like this, Celeste.” Lydia continued as if her opinion mattered. I smiled sweetly to myself as I grabbed out some bread and the toaster.
“I’m kind of into it.” I tossed the bread inside the four-slotted toaster and then hoped on the island as I waited. Ski, our platinum Burmese cat, decided this would be the perfect time to creep up on me. “I’ve never been out of the east coast before, never mind the country.” I commented, flicking Ski away.
“Well, I’m not. I think it’s stupid. Let me talk to Pops, I can get him to let you come stay with me.” Lydia hassled me. I laughed as I pulled out my bagel and laid some smoked salmon and cream cheese out on both sides before squishing them together. I carried myself to the connecting family nook where my mother decided to turn our sunroom into an all glass wall room with a TV and couch, perfect for out neighbors to see us.
Ski weaseled his way back onto my lap, the attention whore trying to grab my salmon. I shoved him away from me but he kept coming back. I started to space out as Lydia rambled, looking out at the dark night from the other side of the glass window. I heard the front door open and close, causing Ski to scurry off down the two steps of our living room.
“Celeste, sweetie?” My father’s voice called out. He always had a booming voice that echoed through out the two-story foyer of our brick home. This house fitted him as much as it had fitted my mother, her for the kitchen and him for the big open rooms to bellow in.
“I’m in here, Dad.” I interrupted Lydia as I responded to him.
“Is that ol’ Pops? Give him the phone! Do it now!” She hissed as I continued to look down the hallway that connected our kitchen and foyer. He appeared, tall and lanky as always in his work clothes.
“Hey,” He greeted casually as he placed his suitcase and clipboard on the island. He made his way over and kissed the top of my head, Lydia still requesting to talk to him from my left ear. “That Lyd?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I responded, picking at the half-eaten salmon and cream cheese sandwich.
“Tell her I said hello.” He walked back to the kitchen as he loosened his tie. He opened the steal door fridge and bent down, roaming the shelves for a snack.
“She wants to talk to you.” I yelled over, staring at him in anticipation.
“You tell her the news?” He straightened up and peered over his shoulder at me. That’s the look I always enjoyed. That waiting but knowing look. It was in all of the candid photos of my dad, it was always the look when I knew he was really paying attention. His small, brown eyes wide. His dark eyebrows heavy and his mouth parted just a little, squaring out evenly with his chin. My mom always made me remember that look. I have no idea why she wanted me to, but I did.
“Maybe.” I smiled.
“I’m not ready for the protests yet, maybe tomorrow.” He yelled loud enough for Lydia to hear. She started into fits of rage and demanding that he talk to her but I ignored it all. I suddenly became very tired and realized I just wanted to sleep.
“Hey, Lydia? I’ll call you tomorrow or something. I’m really tired.” I excused myself from our “conversation” and clicked off the line. I brought my plate over to the sink where I rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher. My dad was cutting up some left over ham beside me.
“Are you really going to bed?” He asked.
“Yup. Goodnight.” I smiled and walked out of the kitchen. I entered through the foyer and up the stairs where I stopped and looked at the picture of my mom on the wall. I sighed, realizing how fast these past two years had gone by. I walked into my room and climbed into my sheets, passing out instantly for the first time in weeks.

++

I lay awake in my hot, summer sheets, anticipating when my alarm was going to go off. I couldn’t recall how long I’ve been up, I would wake up scarcely throughout the night until finally I decided the hell with it.
It was departure morning and I wasn’t sure if I could go through with this. I am a mousy, small person. I keep to myself and rarely do I take big chances, for instance, flying all the way across the Atlantic to stay three months with a woman whom I’ve never met before in my life. Did daring, exotic people even do this? I rolled on my side and blinked at my alarm clock, the red numbers informing me that I had two minutes before I was to get up.
I glanced out my window at the sky, for four in the morning it was pretty light out. The morning glow illuminating some of the stars, the sun’s rays becoming apparent beyond the trees while the crescent moon was still bright and shining. I rubbed my eyes and thought if I’d be able to back out of this. I could fake sick, right? Maybe even claim that Lydia was having a family emergency?
As I contemplated my escapes, my alarm blared those loud, obnoxious beeps that made people’s ears bleed. I slapped the snooze button and jumped out of bed, pacing back and forth. I needed to do this, I reminded myself, I needed to break free from this caged environment that was holding me back from moving on.
I glanced across my room at my mother’s picture on the wall, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I needed to be able to go through one day without staring blankly at a wall hating my life, hating myself and feeling like nothing. I wiped my eyes and started to get dressed, fiercely brushing the knots out of my bland, straight hair and avoiding the tears that would slip past my lashes every now and then.
Three knocks came to my bedroom door followed by a quite, “Celeste? Are you up?” I opened my door to see my dad still in his baseball t-shirt and some checkered pajama pants, two coffee’s in his hand. He held one out to me with a solemn smile and I accepted it with one in return.
“All packed?” He asked as he sat on the edge of my bed. I returned to my hair brushing in my bathroom, nodding in response to his question. If he saw that I had been crying, he himself would call off the entire plan.
The thing about my dad was that ever since my mom passed, he endured his quieter side. Before, he was a sports maniac and loved to try new foods with my mom, always joking around and keeping the mood light. But now…he just sits there a lot, thinking off into space. Baseball and football are a past time to him, and the only thing he’ll eat is whatever he can conduct in under three minutes. I think the only part of him that’s remained the same is that waiting but knowing look he always gave my mom.
“Celeste?” I glanced up at him in the mirror, he was now leaning against the door jam of my bathroom. “You know you don’t have to go.” That was a pull to my heartstrings.
“Will you be okay here by yourself?” I turned to him, trying to pull any answers from his weary face. The death certainly aged him ten years, but I knew that he was still that young guy that would pry my mom and I from our seats to go on adventures.
“I’ll be fine, I’ve lived by myself before…” His eyes trailed off before snapping back to me, “Are you going to be okay on your own?”
“Dad,” I smiled at him, “I wouldn’t be going through with if it if I was worried about that.” He chuckled and sipped his steaming coffee before turning away.
“We have to leave in twenty minutes.” He called over his shoulder as he walked out of my room. In the mirror before me, I saw a scared, little girl that would always need her mom. I threw the brush into my carry on and tugged on a sweatshirt, angrily trying to rid that image of myself. I was almost twenty, I needed to grow up and move on. Right?

At first, before I read any of this, I didn't think I was going to make it all the way through because it was so long, but it really sucked me in! Your descriptions perfect, I can see everything in my head, and your dialog is extremely realistic. I don't have any suggestions other than write more so I can read more!

~Amylith

Okay, so the following comments were little notes I put down as I was reading through it. They're just personal comments on some of your wording that I either like or didn't and the actual changing of them is entirely up to you and what you think.

"I often did that from time to time" Isn't this contradicting itself? If you're often doing something, you do it more often than time to time ^.~

“Yeah,” I responded, picking at the half-eaten salmon and cream cheese sandwich I had made moments before. " We already know it was made moments before

"His small, brown eyes wide. His dark eyebrows heavy and his mouth parted just a little, squaring out evenly with his chin" I don't know why, but I really liked this description.

"slicing thick layers of ham" We already know he's slicing ham, so you don't really need to repeat yourself

It was departure morning. I could feel it as soon as my eyes opened, the feeling of regret. I regretted agreeing with my dad about this. I just wanted to stay in this familiar bed, in this familiar house with everything around me familiar instead of getting up for goodbyes and a departure" I really like this again, except for the second 'departure' I kinda feel like it ruins it here. Perhaps come up with another word for it or remove it?

Next, I'm going to tell you that the grammar and spelling issues are something that can easily be fixed by just re-reading the passage once more so I'm not going to bother with them (though, I do highly encourage you re-read)

Okay, so my overall opinion is that this is going somewhere. I like how I can already tell the personality of Lydia, even though the main character wasn't actually around her. And I liked a lot of your descriptions that you give, which definitely shows that you do have a talent to write, but you sort of lack when it comes to conversations. You try to make it sound natural, but it doesn't always. Though, it's still better than what I've read before. Also, when the character is thinking, the writing gets a little dry and disconnected. I think that re-reading through it can really help you with this because you can go in and add more details or actions so she's not just making a sandwich, and then she sits. It's just a little boring sometimes since you don't have her thinking very much when she's doing these little actions.

I always hate judging a story on the first chapter, so I can't say if this is really good or bad, because sometimes, it does take a couple chapters to get into a really really good book, and I think that's okay. Your beg beginning can always be made up with the middle, but nothing ruins a good book like a bad ending. So just remember that.

Lastly, I want to know what makes the cat crazy, cause everything in here sounds like a normal cat to me XD

haha, keep it, Tripip ^.^

Hey there! I don't really have much to say about this on the positive end, not because it's bad but because nothing really jumped out as amazing, and you also haven't gotten too far into the story itself. I am very curious, however, how all this will turn into a romance! So you do have my interest piqued.

I did find a bit of problems that I'm not entirely sure how to categorize. It's kind of with characterization, kind of with information, kind of with flow, with dialogue... It's all sort of one lumpy problem. I don't think it could be that hard to fix. I'll try and do it in pieces though, to help you out.

CHARACTERIZATION

So, for a romance piece, you want a lot out of your characters. Really, you want a lot out of your characters no matter what - especially when they have a dead mom. I feel like you didn't give us much characterization at all, and when you did, it was in telling form:

I laughed, I was always the one who did in our friendship. Lydia was always the jokester, the one who couldn’t admit how much she really cared. She hated being vulnerable. I, on the other hand, always showed every emotion on my face like a deer caught in headlights.

Lydia is the jokester, the narrator shows her emotions... You pretty much showed Lydia as a jokster having her call her friend a "butt-face" while saying goodbyes, but as to your narrator sharing her emotions - she seems incredibly subdued. She's worried, but even that's hard to really feel.

You focus on the clothes, the habits, the likes of the characters, but it still doesn't give me a sense of who they are, what they act like, are they real people? I'm not sure how to really help you out with this, though I would suggest checking out Snoink's Character Development usergroup. It did me a major help when I was first working out characterization. Your characterization also falters due to some other problems, which I'll address later.

INFORMATION OVERLOAD

So, now is later. xD You gave us a lot of information in this story - a lot of information that really doesn't do anything in this story. It doesn't characterize, it doesn't bring in new emotions, new insights. It's just sort of floating around in the story, doing it's think. Lydia's favorite potatoes chips, her dad's new job, the exact set of clothes she was picking out and the mention of her belly button piercing, so specifically from her 16th birthday annoyed me the most. This is good information, but the way you plug it in doesn't flow, and it doesn't fit into the narration. It seems like purposeless information. Writing in the first person can create a lot of pitfalls, and info dumping is certainly one of them. I'm not saying you shouldn't write this in the first person - just be more wary.

There were other places where you gave more information than you needed that wasn't so wide scale, like your explanation that "Lyd" is Lydia's nickname. Give your reader some credit; we can guess what a nickname is without being told.

FIRST PERSON PITFALLS

Like I said, first person is a rough one. A lot of people screw it up. It can be done right, it just takes a lot of focus. People tend to wander off in weird ways, talks about things they don't need to, because they're inside the characters head. I'd say the most annoying thing your character did was every time she came to realize something about herself - I realized I was hungry, I realized I was tired. The hungry one is hard to show, but you can show tired. I yawned and lied my head on the couch, started to get tired. Saying "I realized I was tired" sounds really weird, like before that moment she had no concept of how she felt, then it smacked her. Usually people know they're tired, they just ignore it or don't acknowledge it - but they act out their sleepiness one way or another.

Like I said a lot of your info problems may be due to the first person as well. But other issues you had were odd ramblings during every bit following dialogue. You couldn't just have a conversation between characters, you had to have large chunks of information up, and for me this really broke up the dialogue and the importance of the moment. It made it drag on, made it feel less real. You can still have chunks of information, or chunks of narration between the dialogue, but I would say pick and chose. Say what is important. I felt like your character making a sandwich in the middle of the scene, whether or not she was hungry, was really silly. Maybe I'm just very to-the-point in my writing, but what purpose did it serve? Oh, she was hungry, that's right. But what did her being hungry serve? Did I learn more about her by seeing what she ate, how she ate it, or how she made it? Not really. It tells me nothing about her personality, about her as a real person. You wouldn't want to watch someone eat food in real life to learn about them, so why read about it?

Sorry to be so harsh on that point, I just really wanted to communicate to you how distracting it was to me.

--

I hope all this didn't discourage you too harshly! They're issues, but I'm a monster reviewer. Now, I won't claim to be the best darn thing to do first person narration, and I hate referencing my own work to people as if I think the aforementioned, but I do have one novella which many others said was a successful execution of first person narration: God Still Loves You (1) It's old, so if you read it I wouldn't advise commenting on it. I shove a heck of a lot of characterization in, and it's in the first person. It might give you a good idea of how to try things, or you don't have to read it at all. Up to you ^^ Sometimes reference helps! Other times, it isn't needed.

Sorry I couldn't say anything good about this. Honestly, it wasn't bad. There just wasn't enough meat, enough story for me to actually praise it. But I'm sure you've got a lot of awesome coming If you have any questions about something I said, feel free to shoot me a PM. Best of luck!

Thank you both a lot! I know it wasn't much of an attention grabber, but I didn't want to post more and have way too much for just a first chapter. I will definitely look into that story, Suzanne! I didn't take it harsh, you were only telling me so I could get better (:

Thanks to you, too, Angel!

I'm going to go try those breathing exercises, Suzanne, and when I wake up tomorrow morning I'll get working on revisions. Thanks, once again!