Young Writers Society

I'm following these two Frenchmen who tell me they can give me a ride to the T. I walk out of the grocery store into the parking lot. Then who stumbles across my path, unexpectedly? Why it's Callum, that Texan lad.

"You're still around," I ask, "well, can't talk, I gotta go-"

"Wait a minute," he interjects, "what's the sudden rush?"

Glancing over at the Frenchmen loading their truck, I ask myself what is the rush? I tell Callum to hold on a minute and walk over and tell the two men that they don't have to worry, that I'm going to stay at the south end for a while longer. They say it's no problem, and we go our separate ways. The weather isn't nice today, but how often do I get the chance to see an old friend?

"So how've you bin, Johnny?" He asks, as we walk away together side by side. He still looks the same with his straw colored hair and wild, blue eyes.

"A bit of this, a bit of that, finishing school," I say, "how 'bout you?"

"Well," he starts, "Ah've been here for about 3 weeks now, I've been around. Know what? We needs to find a place to sit down where it's dry." We continue on walking, "how 'boot right here?" He points towards two trees.

"Nah," I say, "how about up by the hall?" I suggest.

"I wonder where Jasmine is," he ponders.

"I saw her outside back when I was in the store."

"Did you see which way she went?"

"No, she was gone the next time I glanced out the window."

After another moment of walking he says, "how's about we go up and sit next to the post boxes?"

"Yeah," I declare, "that's where I meant when I mentioned the hall earlier."

He starts walking up the stairs at the very top of the hall, and I'm just following his lead. The post boxes are at the other side of the building, but we both spot an awning and a bench. To our dismay the bench is still wet. I offer him my coat to sit on, but he declines.

"Jess carry a bitta cardboard with you" he tells me, "to sit on, thess what ah do when ah travel."

I had forgotten about his trip. "How was Burning Man?" I ask him.

"Oh, it twas great," I can see in his eyes that he's gone back momentarily in his mind. "And after wards," he continues, "ah rode my bike aroun' the states, you needa bike there. Carried on through Nevada, then Utah, Colorado, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee... Then I went back up towards Canada, and stayed in Toronto for a bit." He pauses for breath. "I managed tah keep that bike from Nevada all the way to Toronto, but it couldn't make it back. There was no way it could come back out West, it was a good bike."

As he was telling me his tale, I began to root through my bag for my music. When I pull it out, he asks me what kind of music I listen to. I replied with the usual, Babyshambles, The Libertines, Peter Doherty, he hadn't heard of them. This got him started on music. "Do you have any old music on there?" he asks. Then he laughs; "Well, I guess it depends what sort of music or what era..."

"1931," comes my reply, "I've got music from 1931."

"No, Ah'm talkin' older like from the twenties, the real good stuff, jazz yah know? Jelly Roll Morton, Milton Mezzrow, Duke Ellington," he rattles off names I've never heard of.

"Well, I like listening to the blues-"

"Ah don't like the saxophone," he says harshly, "it's for people who like to have sex with their instruments onstage. Don't get me wrong, ol' Armstrong was the best, but ah don't like much else."

"Hey," he changes the subject, "ye got any papers?"

"Yep, at least I think so." I start checkin' my pockets. "Do you still smoke dope?"

"No, I had to give it up, too much anxiety."

I just nod my head, still looking for papers, I start unloading my bag.

"If someone were to die from anxiety by smoking weed, it'd be me," he continues. "Ah just don't like the way it makes me feel," he then takes a deep swig of his bottle of wine. "Ah'm starting to become such a wino," he says.

He then spots my bottle of Stoli that I pulled out of my bag from the night before.

"Ah," he sighs, "Good ol' Stolichnaya, can I take a swig?"

"Only if I can have some of your wine," came my reply.

He takes a deep swig, and I lift his massive bottle of wine to my lips, it tastes good.

"Yessir, Nero is a fine tasting wine for its price, how old are you now, Johnny?"

"Nineteen."

"'Cause I've been pondering whether to get cigarettes or just another bottle of wine..." He scratches his ear, "I think I'll get wine, cause it'll help warm me up. Well, not really, ya know the soldiers would drink to help themselves keep warm, but it didn't really keep them warm, it jess numbed them, and they died faster. The train hoppers would do that too, the winos that rode the tracks... Ah would want to do that someday, but ah wouldn't want to jump one without knowing where I wuz going, ah'd wanna go with someone whose done it before. Like in those old books, those old words of the Beat Generation. Like Jack Kerouac."

I looked at him again in confusion, another unknown name. "Let me write that one down." He spells out the last name for me. "You know," I said, "that name looks familiar, now that it's written down."

I finally find my Rizla Blues and toss them to him. "Do you still smoke spliffs?" I ask, hopefully.

"No, my relationship with plain old Mary Jane is finished, but I can roll you one if you want," he offers.

"That'd be swell."

"So, what became of your friend Fraser?" he asked as he rolled.

Fraser, I don't hang out with him, I thought, then it came to me; "Oh, you mean James."

"Yes that's right, why did I say Fraser?"

"Well, they played music together."

"Yes, but you did hang out with him all of the time, ya?"

"I came back from Vancouver in December, and he had gone, seemingly disappeared. At first I thought he went back to Scotland, but he only went as far as Courtenay."

"There you go, finished," he announces, and he passes me his lovely masterpiece. I ask for his lighter, spark it up, gave him his lighter back, then inhaled.

"I'll take one puff," he says, so I pass it to him.

He daintily took a drag and passes it back to me. I inhale for the second time 'round, and pass it back to him by reflex.

"No, no," he refuses, "just that one was good for me."

I smoke it slowly, enjoying it, and we chat about the differences of nicotine and marijuana and how they effect him differently and such, he starts rolling a cigarette. "And this is the worst one of all," he admits.

I ask for his lighter again, but he tells me he put a filter in and I might not want to relight it. Glancing at it, I realized only cardboard remained, so I put it in the ashtray. "Can I have a puff of your cigarette?" I ask him reluctantly.

"Of course," he hands it to me, "you can't be greedy with death, can you?"

'Lo Fabien,

Firstly, you've a play-wright's sense of dialogue. I could have read this piece merely for the exchange, both voices distinct without being grating or pretentious, atmosphere set as much by their tone as by the prose in the narrative. ^_^

But the narrative? It wasn't half as tight as the dialogue. Naturally, you don't need much to fill in. But what you have ought to be clean; and it would be a bloody pity to put two characters that can have such believable conversation amongst scattered or half thought-out tags and narration.

Dialogue Tags:

They rather sputtered, in and out. With how distinct your voices are, you don't need them every time - you don't need them half the time.

Example:

I wonder where Jasmine is," he ponders.

"I saw her outside back when I was in the store," I reveal.

"Did you see which way she went?" he asked hopefully.

"No" I say, "she was gone the next time I glanced out the window."

Three in a row? Try it without them, or without the first two or three, and see how it reads. I'm afraid that more often than not, they trip up the natural flow within the conversation.

Verb Tense:

You duck out of present tense into past and back again more than once. The story is quite smooth in present tense, where you begin it - keep it that way.

As you see...

I ask [present] for his lighter again, but he tells me he put a filter in and I might not want to relight it. Glancing at it, I realized [past] only cardboard remained, so I put it in the ashtray. "Can I have a puff of your cigarette?" I ask him reluctantly.

You have, noticeably, a poet's touch for brevity. Present tense compliments the piece and your style; and switching from one to the next only ends on an awkward note and confusion.


Punctuation:

Mostly, seems to be typos, lack of polishing. Nothing problematic about the piece itself; but I'd run through it once or twice, capitalise the first words of some sentences, close speech marks, etc.



In the end, Fabien, I enjoyed it rather as it was. If it were brushed and polished, so to speak, it would be an excellent short encounter - and the dialogue could only shine with clean surroundings. ^_^

(Ah, and I love the final remark. It's definitive.)





IMP

This is great, just as poor imp said before me. Pretty much perfect as a dialouge exercise - it's the strong, memorable part. It really captures a conversation, something people often struggle with.

Take this part

"Jess carry a bitta cardboard with you" he tells me, "to sit on, thess what ah do when ah travel."

I had forgotten about his trip, "how was Burning Man?" I ask him.

It worked really well, and is so true to real life - someone dropping hints so they can talk about something they've recently done.

Again as a dialouge exercise it works brilliantly. But as an opening to a story (correct me if I'm wrong), it might need some work.

Dropping someone in, with no introduction to the scene, the character's or plot can be effective, and I think here it is. Especially as dialouge is so key to your writing. That's something you can obviously easily do to introduce the plot and characters as well as the setting. The style could quite easily be sparse of description, with the world brought to teh reader mainly through speech, and desciption added with thought could be very effective.

From the extract above you've introduced the character(s) brilliantly, but haven't touched on the plot you're going with or the setting and surroundings of the scene. At the moment there's no inkling of what is to come, or the past of the characters, and this could easily and effectively have been worked into the dialouge. Having it as it is, and without some link to what could happen, could easily put some readers off.

Just my thoughts to bear in mind.

Keep up the good work

- Anthas

Overall, I enjoyed the piece. The story is not self-assuming; it just kinda starts and keeps going. The prose is nice and clean-cut, without a whole lot of refinery. Mind you, I like more convoluted, Tolkien- or Hawthorne-esque writing, because I'm a stuffed-shirted bore like that, but your style works wonderfully as what it is. There are some grammatical points I am going to bring up, because I think they're worth mentioning, but aside from that, I have nothing against the story as it is. The plot is so far unfleshed, but that's not a problem; the intriguing characters is enough.

Glancing over at the Frenchmen loading their truck, I ask myself what is the rush?

After myself, I would put a comma or something. Now, this is just a matter of taste, but it seems intuitive that there would be a pause there, and since there isn't one in the grammatical structure, it might cause your reader to do his own pausing uncomfortably (which it did to me). That's really subjective, though, so no worries.

We continue on walking, "how 'boot right here?" After another moment of walking he says, "how's about we go up and sit next to the post boxes?"
Just pointing out that he says about two different ways. You might not be concerned with that, though. I realize southerners probably don't inflect with consistency.

"Yeah," I declare, "that's where I meant when I mentioned the hall earlier"
Missed a period.

To our dismay the bench is still wet, I offer him my coat to sit on, but he declines.
I would suggest either making this two sentences or turning the first comma into a semicolen. But the thing is, I think that would through off your simpler prose style. So I think "To our dismay the bench is still wet. I offer him my coat to sit on, but he declines." would be better.

Here's an instance where your grammar slips up:

I had forgotten about his trip, "how was Burning Man?" I ask him.

It should be: I had forgotten about his trip. "How was Burning Man?" I ask him.

And there are more of these, too.

This got him started on music, "do you have any old music on there?" he asks. Then he laughs, "well, I guess it depends what sort of music or what era..."
There are a few ways to fix this. Here's a suggestion:
This got him started on music. "Do you have any old music on there?" he asks. Then he laughs: "Well, I guess it depends what sort of music or what era..."

"Yep, at least I think so," I start checkin' my pockets, "do you still smoke dope?"
Should really be: "Yep, at least I think so." I start checkin' my pockets. "Do you still smoke dope?"

I looked at him again in confusion, another unknown name, "let me write that one down," he spells out the last name for me.
Fixed: I looked at him again in confusion, another unknown name. "Let me write that one down." He spells out the last name for me.

I finally find my Rizla Blues and toss them to him, "do you still smoke spliffs?" I ask, hopefully.
I finally find my Rizla Blues and toss them to him. "Do you still smoke spliffs?" I ask, hopefully.

Fraser, I don't hang out with him, I thought, then it came to me, "oh, you mean James.": Fraser, I don't hang out with him, i thought, then it came to me: "Oh, you mean James."

Sorry if I seem a bit nitpicky, but I think these minor adjustments will really tighten up the prose and give the piece more fluidity and approachability. I really enjoyed it, from beginning to end, and found myself wishing there was more to read. That, if anything, is a sign of a job well done.

Ciao!

Tony