Chapter One - The Prestonian Businessman

Right, I'll get into a bit of backstory first. Four years ago I came up with an idea for a story, this story idea (over the course of say around two years) became a series of multiple books. The writing I'm going to ask for you very lovely jubbly people to review was written a few years ago and is probably the only chapter that didn't under go harsh editing and altering as the stories in each became more fleshed out.

There is a prologue which serves as my hook, not a tremendously long bit of writing but it helps set up the narrative fore future books and side stories. This is the chapter of course following on from that, aiming hopefully to show off Mike's discomfort within the place an imposter of a role model.

Few words of warning. My grammar isn't tremendously great but hey (I would say it's the nighties, but indeed it is not) I think I can partially blame myself and the seemingly annoying learning difficulty I seemed to have been born with... great. But my second warning is really to all you who suffer reading it as it's generally free ,apart from the odd bit, of dialogue. Though the complete chapter is more dialogue driven.

I'll just add, as it didn't really dawn on me... the random contradicting parts, they'll easily fixed and I have done so now on my copy so I'll get around to doing so on here too.



Michael White had already been in once, back out, in once more before being turfed out... again. This time refused total denial to the tumble dryer after his late night shenanigans, or so his step father put it in that matter of fact yet always pleasing tone.

"DON'T THINK YOUR TRAMPLIN' IN 'ERE ACCUSIN' THIS AND THAT THEN TAKIN' THIS AND THAT CAUSE IT'S 'YOUR'S'! NOT A BLEEDIN' CHANCE!"

Instead he left him; retorting like past nights of bedlam to a half handy and utterly unsuccessful method of banging on the iron, flipping out the board and giving his soaking jeans about an hour's 'go over'. Usually resulting in a wet groin for time later and inviting rosy red cheeks tracked closely by an embarrassing explanation as to the actual reason for the wet patches of a sixteen year olds pair of jeans. Yeah, alright then. Of course, all this managing to be achieved while standing there, often trouser-less running the clump of metal back and forth like a deranged brick layer who roared each time he clipped his free hand on the underside of the red-hot metal.

Nonsense. Nothing more nothing less, were his Mam's favored words at her husband in her shrill voice; today at least and no doubt tomorrow and Friday and well into Saturday too. Mam's crane neck was elevating her oval head whist her budgie leg-arms dragged her face into the net curtains hanging at the only transparent outlook on the cloudy Wednesday dinner. World's nosiest Mam, step forward; although she'd no doubt twitch and shake her head at the woman behind. Unbelievable.

Michael had been there time and time before, cast outside to the kerb which ran the interior of the circular estate, drooping and rising and rising and drooping some more, burrowing into the fragmented tarmac; holding homage to only knows how many cigarette ends and trodden on chewing gum. His scalp running a mess with thick yet incredibly short hair raked back to meet, resting against the cold and mold encrusted bricks of the Little Lamb Light.

"You've got that right-" he muttered to himself carefully allowing his eyes to roll backwards breaking out in milky white circles, set into two egg-shaped sockets. A small rusting sign dangling, revealed itself; half missing letters, either fizzled out or smashed against the pavement in the midst of a youth hurricane. Once what read:

'The Lamb Lights'

Now simply and ironically read:

'Hell.'
....

There we have it, the first time anybody witnessed that, somewhat opening to chapter One. As I said the rest becomes more focused on the interaction between Mike and the relationship between the two people he's left to call role models, his mum (Mam mind) is the one that actually cares for him and always has and will continue to do so. The rest sets up the a later chapter of course.

But on a final note, the prologue I've got written (I have got a lot of the chapters written mind) is the basis for the conflicts within this chapter. I may post that at some point if you so wish because it would clear a fair few things up in all honesty. Ha. But in terms of this 'part' I'm curious to see if certain problems I've picked up are actually there.

Hey EBM! We haven't met, right? Welcome! They call me Stella round these parts and I will be your reviewer today

I will warn you that I am a bit of a grammar nazi. You'll find quite a few of us round the site. So I will be nitpicking, I'm afraid.

I. NITPICKS

Michael White had already been in once, back out, in once more before being turfed out... again.

Okay, I'm big into first lines. They should only take one reading, firstly, and this took a few. As interesting as it is, I think it might need a little rewording- and tell us where he's been into.

or so his step father put it in that matter of fact yet always pleasing tone.

stepfather, and colon at the end, no need for a new line.

retorting like past nights of bedlam to a half handy and utterly unsuccessful method of banging on the iron, flipping out the board and giving his soaking jeans about an hour's 'go over'.

Firstly, what exactly are you trying to convey by, "retorting like past nights of bedlam?" That this happens a lot? Who's retorting? Also, how is it half handy and utterly unsuccessful?

wet patches of a sixteen year olds pair of jeans.

old's.

Of course, all this managing to be achieved while standing there,

all of what being achieved?

His scalp running a mess with thick yet incredibly short hair raked back to meet, resting against the cold and mold encrusted bricks of the Little Lamb Light.

meet what?

Okay.

II. UM. WHAT?

I can often be woefully simple-minded. I'll be the first to admit that there are some things that go way over my head. But right now, I have basically no idea what's going on. He's ironing his jeans. Then all of a sudden he's out on the kerb. It's all very confusing. We get he has a difficult relationship with his parents and he doesn't live in a particularly nice area. And he's sixteen. Other than that, well, it's all beyond me.

My advice would be to try and fill out the situation he first finds himself in. Why is he ironing his jeans in the middle of the night? Why are they soaking wet? Why can't they wait until morning? Is this really important to the story? If it's not, then why are you starting with it?

Try and read it as a reader and not the writer. If you didn't already know what was going on, would you know what was going on? Or would it be a jumble of words and sentence fragments? Break it down for us. Some of us are a little intellectually challenged.

III. OVERALL

That said, you've got a wonderful style here and there's definitely more-than-promise. Just simplify it, methinks.

Hope I helped, drop me a note if you need anything!

-Stella x

First of ta very much.

And yeah, my grammar isn't anywhere near that great (I respect you for pointing them out), I've general ideas I think of the 'ground' rules to it but hey I can learn. If I'm honest I thought there would have been a lot of words spelt backwards... yeah I've got a messed up mind! Ha. For example, the word dog might come out as god or dgo. So at least back then my mind seemed to function sort of right.

As for confusing I think the complete chapter would've helped cause I wrote this I would say about last year and never read back through it, so as of today that was the only time I've read back through it (which is really kinda painful). Right enough of that. I can actually understand that it is somewhat confusing but I think if I were to give you the rest (I did plan on posting the lot) of it then I'm sure a few things would be made clearer although later I think I might give it and the prologue a harsher edit and maybe try and fill in the odd blanks that are unfilled... It's only really the first proper draft so I suppose I'll make up for it in draft two.

Just read your comment about opening lines. Right I'll explain what I think my mind was set on. The prologue details the missing 'where's he been' and sets up a lot of the content within the part above. It probably would have been wiser to post that instead but no I do it the hard way; up the creek without a paddle kind of thing. Ha.

But as I said before, ta very much Stella.