z

Young Writers Society


E - Everyone

How Math Helped Me Fish

by Larsen


Out there a thin layer of sand-like dust covered everything because it doesn't rain much on barrier islands and the wind knows no fatigue. Slightly fishy and powerfully earthy, the scent of pluff mud rode the breeze with each tide. The olive green spartina grass, like a permanent population, carried the sluggish creeks through the bountiful marsh. The creek’s color was likely to change with the sun and sky, from green to blue to hues of pink, red and violet. My father gave me just enough money for the right supplies. I had three months on the island until sophomore year in August. I spent that summer with jungle thick hair, from the salt air, dry and cracked hands from being constantly wet and dried, and tan, freckled skin. I know what you’re thinking, no not grocery money, tackle. I learned to be a fisherman.

Dewees is a barrier island off the coast of South Carolina, just north of Charleston. The entire island has a conservational easement, limiting development. There are sixty-seven houses on the island but you wouldn't think there were more than thirty because they are all nestled in the trees, like docile giants, squatted low so as not be seen. The alligators do not squat, or hide in any matter, nor do the deer, raccoons, rabbits, mosquitos or deer flies. None of them are afraid to be at your front door first thing in the morning.

With my Dad’s money I bought a minnow trap, hooks, sinkers, a cork and a handful of lures, all the things I remembered being in dad’s tackle box. Most of the time coming to Dewees, I fished with my dad. Going where he went; fishing where he fished, casting where he said cast.

When you are on your own, you remember where you caught, and what bait you might have used. You do not remember what you never thought about; being on your own is a little more complicated.

Saturday I put in the minnow trap in front of a water lock, where we always would put it. It produces -simple.

Later that day I floated a minnow in a creek that dead ends at the big water lock, just like I remember. No dice. I strung up a plastic lure on a jig head and bounce it across the bottom at the head of the impoundment, shallow, just off the main road. I got no bump, tug, hit, bop, pull, bite or strike. Not a one. Years ago we could sit there, in front of God and everybody, and catch flounder and red drum by the bucket. We can’t do that anymore, too many alligators, and people. Midday, at another common fishing hole, Six Pipes, I could see the speckled sea trout waiting for minnows spilling out the pipes. Six pipes, hence the name, run under the road connecting one side of the creek to the other allowing a targeted flow of water and therefore fish. Again, not a plastic lure nor minnow on a cork yielded any kind of lunch or dinner. 

The blue crabs, attracted to anything dead and meaty, have never not been at the crabbing dock so I had some for supper Sunday night. After supper, on an outgoing tide I again floated a minnow in front of a creek by the ferry dock where dad and I would dangle our feet in water at night, whilst tearing up the trout and drum. Again, no dice.

I was not catching fish. This was particularly upsetting because I knew my dad could. I knew my brother could. I felt inadequate. 

What made matters more worse was how I performed in school. For the first time in my life I had to withdraw from a class because I was failing. Math is the bane to my existence as an english major. My father is a math minded person, with high expectations; he is also a banker. At two moments, that my father and I share quite often, do I feel especially like a son to my father: in intellectual conversation, because he often answers questions before I have asked them, and our dedication to the outdoors.

The next day, at sunrise, a little perturbed by my inability to perform with the rod and reel, I walked up a remote creek to the honey hole my father showed me, high expectations. Walking up I could see big drum swim past me, boiling the top of the water with the flick of a tail and leaving wakes like a tiny dinosaur would. There were walls of pluff mud, a black, quicker than quick sand, smelly mixture of dead things, dirt and saltwater, and spartina grass on either side. I was shirtless, shoeless and breathing heavy. I had pluff mud all over my legs; it was a tough walk. I even had some mud on my shoulders to keep from burning. When I arrived, another cork-rig failed; another failed plastic. This especially fueled my fire because I could see the fish coming up to the top and just when I figure out, on my own, what to do, my phone buzzed for me to come to work.

The next evening, I tried fishing where I’d never been before, but I knew my dad had. Wading in the spartina grass, knee deep in the marsh, sight fishing for big drum at sunset under an inconsistently pink and blue sky, is something people travel a long ways to do. I walked from Big Bend Dock to Lone Cedar, about 200 yards away. Real close to Big Bend Dock, I got on a few smaller spottails but couldn't invoke a bite. It wasn't until I got right up on Lone Cedar that I had any more fish tease me. A bull of a spottail bass had his head in the mud and his mahogany colored tail like a flag just above the surface of the water. I made the perfect cast: four feet past and four feet in front, it only spooked him. He made a b-line for the larger creek, a wake like that of a ghost ship. Head hung, I returned home with nothing to show for my efforts.

I had tried everything I knew. I was beaten. Dewees whooped me with a stick and sent me to the nurse’s office. I called my dad. He had only one thing to say. “You only know how to fish in the fall.” He was right. I never thought about that. I have only been really successful fishing in the fall. The time of year was different and so were the fish.

So what had I not done? In my book I had done everything. What wasn't in my book? What had I not tried? I devised a plan. Dad always told me, write it out. So thats what I did. I took everything about each situation and wrote it out. One constant remained unsubstituted. Day. Next on my plan was to try daytime techniques at night.

Hungry, I saddled up my E-Z Go with all my tackle and headed for six pipes. It was high tide, outgoing, the trout would be sitting in front of the pipe. In the day, the trout could not be fooled by a hard plastic top water lure. They could see it. At night, however, the lure was a struggling fish splashing on top. Three casts in I had one ashore.

In the past I had great success, led by my father. Catching fishing only required listening, and not thinking. When I was thrown into a different current, the summer, I had to think to be successful. Imagine that. What I thought up was fishing is like an equation. I had to factor out what led to a catch or an empty bucket so I could change a variable, substituting one bait for another, changing tides. Not only did I learn to fish, to think for myself, but what I took away from this, in the long term rest-of-your-life sense, was that learning and challenges in such broadens one's mind to include blue prints to thought processes novel to a mind that was, in simplest terms, uneducated. Turns out trout like to hunt by ear as well as sight. So at night a top water plug sounds just like a top water minnow, splashing around. Who knew.


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Mon Jul 21, 2014 10:39 pm
rainforest says...



Unknown391625 here with a review you will be pleased with!

This is a very interesting story. I like the inspiration you got to write this story. It's very different, but different is awesome! I think I will be looking out for your future stories. Awesome story! Never give up!

-Unknown391625




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Sun Jun 29, 2014 9:26 pm
SpiritedWolfe wrote a review...



Hello Larsen, Wolf here for a review.

This was a really cool topic. Usually fishing isnt the most common thing to write about in the world (like high fantasy or sparkling vampires). I really like how you really got into the main character's head with this, as should be done with first person. You would convey all this excitement and anticipation in his thoughts and soon make them turn to disappointment, but just using thoughts. I really like that kind if style.

I don't have any content critique, but I do have a few technical suggestions. First off, when you are explaining Six Pipes, you have a little spot where you go "(hence the name)" and personally, I'm not a big fan of when people use parenthesis in their work. There's nothing wrong with it, it just doesn't look very professional. You don't see the parenthesis, and you can take them out and the sentence will still flow.

Also, you have quite a few lengthy paragraphs. Usually a paragraph is from five to eleven or so sentences. Though, here I bet some of yours are fifteen to maybe eighteen sentences. I also bet that somewhere on that mega paragraph, there is a good breaking point for when you switch topics. One final thing, be careful not to start too many sentences in a row with 'I' or a pronoun, just because it gets kind of boring. It's alright to do, but just watch for that and try to vary the sentence structure.

Overall, I really liked this, and all your descriptions and imagery are really well done! Happy Review Day and Keep Writing,
~Wolfare

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Tue Jun 17, 2014 7:22 pm
CollinWitte wrote a review...



This piece was entertaining and has a lot of potential. I especially like how it begins, and the description of the island:

"Out here a thin layer of sand-like dust covers everything because it doesn't rain much on barrier islands and the wind blows without fatigue. Slightly fishy and powerfully earthy, the scent of pluff mud drifts on the breeze."

Like BiscuitsBatchAvoy below, I also enjoy the easy, conversational tone of the piece. You feel like you know the character, like he's the guy you might spend an easy summer day with, hanging out on the water.

I had a little trouble keeping track of the time in the piece, or how important it was to know which day it was. The character was going to spend the whole summer there, but the amount of time that passes in the piece seems to be just a few days ... seems like for the tension to build, there needs to be a closer deadline or some reason the character feels pressured to be successful. Something needs to be at stake.

I also felt like there could be more mention/description of the dangers in fishing, such as the alligators ... or the frustration of the tourists. They are noted in passing, but again, they could contribute to the challenges the protagonist faces. Things seem to come pretty easily to him, once he figures out to fish at night.

The frequent change from past to present tense and back threw me at times. It cut into the flow of the piece. I think just choosing one tense and sticking with it would help the reader feel the passing of time in a linear fashion.

This sentence confused me:
"This is especially fueling my fire because I could see the fishing coming up to the top and just when I figure out, on my own, what to do, my phone buzzed for me to come to work."

If the character is spending the summer just fishing, where does he work and why does he have a cell phone? It doesn't seem to fit the situation.

The ending felt a bit rushed to me. The resolution came too quickly and easily. There was no element of surprise, or of overcoming a challenge. I think more build up prior to his brainwave would make the ending more satisfying.

Here are some nitpicks:

In this sentence I think you meant houses: "There are sixty-seven house on the island but you wouldn't think there were more than thirty because they are all nestled in the trees ..."

Here I think you meant bounced: "I strung up a plastic lure on a jig head and bounce it ..."

Lastly, regarding the title, it didn't feel like math was a big part of the character's eventual success at fishing - he used a process of elimination, but the title had me expecting some magical formula ... it didn't affect my appreciation of the story, but maybe another title might be a little more poetic.

Overall, I enjoyed this piece and really like your phrasing - sounds like I am listening to a fisherman speak. With a little attention to detail, this piece could really stand out. I am only being so picky because I see so much potential in the story and wanted to have a deeper emotional response to it. I think the key is seeing a little more struggle with the character, and keeping the tense more consistent.

Looking forward to reading more of your work and perhaps a future draft of this piece!




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Wed Jun 11, 2014 8:53 pm
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ExOmelas wrote a review...



I do not understand what happened in this sentence: 'I am tan I know what you’re thinking, no not grocery money, tackle'. The rest of this paragraph is absolutely beautiful. I so envy your sentence structure! For some reason, this sentence was like reading a sentence of a novice. My brain is just frazzled. There should be a new sentence after 'tan'. I don't really know what you know I'm thinking. The end of the sentence is good on its own but it needs the rest of the sentence to back it up.

'sixty seven' - traditionally this is written as 'sixty-seven'.

'squatted low to not be seen.' - I think this would work slightly better if the 'to' was 'so as'.

I really like the way you list.

'Going where he went; fished where he fished, casting where he said cast.' - I think the semi-colon should just be a comma, the first 'fished' should be 'fishing' and the 'where' should be 'when'.

'It produces, simple.' - I think if that comma was a dash, it might draw more attention to the word 'simple' because I get the feeling that 'simple' will not be the case. I'm loving your tone by the way. It is so relaxing. It's like the start of Jaws, where you can just tell it's the calm before the storm.

'six pipes' - I think that given that this is a name the two words should have capital letters.

'a little perturbed at my inability' - the 'at' should be 'by'.

'When I arrived, another cork-rig failed; another failed plastic.' - this semi-colon should be a dash. I was literally about to comment on your correct use of semi-colons, which is rare, because the one in the previous sentence was just perfect and actually made me grin.

'just when I figure out, for my own,' - I'm not quite sure what you mean here. It might be 'on my own'. This may be me not getting it but I think you need to be clearer here.

'a inconsistently' - I'm fairly certain this is a typo but 'a' should be 'an'.

'200 yards away' - the number should be written in words as 'two hundred'.

'Real close to Big Ben' - the name of this a second ago was Big Bend Dock so is this meant to be 'Big Bend' or does it borrow its nickname from the big clock tower in London?

'I was thrown into a different current, the summer.' - I think this should be a colon rather than a comma.

I love the tone of this so much! I know I've already said this but it needs to be stressed. Tone is very underrated but it can make a whole story way more or way less enjoyable to read. This wasn't necessarily humorous but it was sort of light-hearted. The whole story was the character going, 'Huh' or, like your last line, 'Who knew'. I think you got that atmosphere across perfectly.
I would maybe work on clarity slightly but the places I've highlighted are the only places I've got confused. Maybe you could add in an explanation of fishing jargon in brackets. If you do that, be sure to have the character talking, not you. I've done that wrong before, and it does not come out well.

This is the second short today where I've wished it was twice its length.

Well done! :)





A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.
— Steve Martin