North Country #1

I love you guys. You have convinced me within in the space of a day that this project is worth it. Or at least worth posting on YWS.

Blink,

Ssh. Don't tell anyone but Marshall is really hard to describe.


Smorg,

Apparently, I have this huge issue with confusing the reader about first person gender, thanks for pointing that out to me, among other things.


Xena,

The bit about describing the Tums was one of the bits I agonized over describing. Because each tum is just one color and describing them as multicolored Tums makes me think that the Tums are all different colors.


Dommy,

Thanks.


Curly,

You and Dommy are like my North Country cheerleaders/cheering section.




Thanks a million, gang.
Cal.

I love the characters so far, and everything seems so realistic, also with the diolouge being fresh. I can almost see this as an independent film of some sort It's really good! As for past and present, I coulden't spot any mistakes, so I think you did a wonderful job.

Tell me when more comes please! (PM me )

I think for this story you could go with writing it either in the present or past tense, but I would chose past. Some words you used made it sound like you were retelling the story then others sounded like it was being told live. There were just some sentences that flowed weirdly but otherwise it was great. But to answer your question about which tense you would; my suggestion is to just read over what you have so far and figure out if you have to change more if you were writing in the present or past, then chose the one with fewer mistakes!

I loved it, though! Can't wait to read more!

~Dommy

p.s. study the word had. and comma use.

Dylan looked like she had(you dont need that there!) spent the weekend hunting down her own leads in some back-alley, gin joints, which I imagined is exactly what she had done.

chomping down on a multicolored handful of Tums.

It cost twenty-five cents. Less than the paper we wrapped it with, but certainly worth it seeing Dylan’s reaction to it.

Like poodle skirts and ex-relationships, this is best kept in the past.

[spoiler]North Country

I. A Case of the Mondays

Monday at the office was a Monday like any other. Dylan looked like she had spent the weekend hunting down her own leads in some back-alley gin joints, which was actually exactly what she did every weekend. Her blonde hair was drawn back from her face in a ponytail and her face was devoid of makeup and her red running sneakers were untied. She was alternating between gulping down a gallon of black coffee and chomping down on a multicolored handful of Tums.

The stack of folders that I had left on my desk Friday was [s]still there[/s] beckoning me. Dylan had her own, much larger stack, which resembled more of the aftermath of a volcanic eruption than anything else. If I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have suspected that underneath the mess was an actual desk.

Dylan handed me her half empty mug of coffee; the big block letters in blue, which once said ‘World’s Best Federal Agent’, [s]have been[/s] scratched to near illegibility.

As I wrapped my hands around the lukewarm ceramic, I remember the excitement when Brian had seen it on that muddy, paisley tablecloth among pieces of a dismantled radio and candleholder set. It was cold, and wet, and rainy that Sunday. But, I had, like Dylan’s faithful golden-retriever, followed my boyfriend all over the garage-sale dotted countryside looking for that perfect birthday gift.

I wish you clarified the narrator's gender early on, because, this is where I became completely confused. It's not your fault, due to the nature of the narrator's sexuality, but be wary of this pitfall. I don't really think the "surprise, he's gay!" bit is really important, or particularly unique.

It had cost twenty-five cents. Less than the paper we wrapped it with, but certainly worth [s]it[/s] seeing Dylan’s reaction to it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget her face. Her facial expression spelling out: ‘Are you kidding me?’, perfectly. Or the burst of laughter after she realized it wasn’t just a gag gift—that Brian really meant it. I almost complained about the legendary trek Brian dragged me out on to find it, and how we could have spent the day in bed. But then Brian and Dylan were hugging each other and laughing, and I didn’t want to spoil the mood. Plus, the next day, on her desk was a grey ceramic mug with ‘World’s Best Federal Agent’ in big blue letters, and it hasn’t disappeared since.

I looked down into the mug at the black liquid. “You make this.”

Dylan had pulled out her cell phone. “Of course, Marshall,” she grumbled before putting the phone up to her ear.

I swallowed a mouthful of coffee; it was pretty good for the office. For a minute, I debated whether to heat it up, but figured that this early a fight with the microwave wasn’t in my best interest.

“Hey, honey…” The pitch at which Dylan voice had risen and the obvious contentment in her smile told me she was talking to Brian.

I figured that he was probably telling her about the dinner he went to last night. I couldn’t go. Or more correctly, I wouldn’t, and told him I had better things to do than spending the night surrounded by senators and scientists, bad food, and [s]cheap[/s] government* alcohol. The last time I went to one of those functions, no less than five women tried to feel me up, two in front of their husbands, all of them twice my age. I drank too much, and Brian claimed my grumpiness was as bad as Dylan’s.

I doubt the government would have cheap alcohol, but probably some poor quality stuff, I imagine it being chosen by committee, and the choices being rather safe.

Even after Armageddon, and fighting and running from Zombies, I wouldn't go shouting at the top of my lungs that I’m dating a guy.

I know it’s not like Brian and I are the first gay couple in existence, or I’m the first gay cop whose tried to have a relationship with a senator’s top aide. And, it’s not that I consciously think of keeping what Brian and I have a secret. But, in my opinion, what Brian and I do is nobody’s business but our own. [color=greenI wish you could relay this more subtley, this overt method seems almost like editorializing.[/color]

And, so going to a dinner, headed by Brian’s boss (and technically my boss's boss), as Brian’s date, is not exactly my idea of a good time. I know Brian will never say it, but I think the fact I don’t join him makes him feel calmer. He doesn’t have to worry about me, just seating charts and dancing partners and making sure that no one mentions the number of psychos that were released during the invasion, and still haven’t been found.

I was distracted from my thoughts when Dylan started laughing and [s]then[/s] grinning at me like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

“No, no, he’s right here, sure, I’ll tell him.” Dylan [s]has[/s] rested the phone against her neck. “My boy here wants to know if his boyfriend is free tonight.”

A grin stretched across my face. “I am.”

Dylan [color=green]goes back on the phone to tell Brian that I have consulted my schedule and am indeed free tonight. She just had enough time to relay “Donatello’s at 8,” before our boss, Director Halprin came stomping into bullpen, scowl on his face, cowboy hat on his head.

I gulped down the rest of the coffee - no longer lukewarm and tasting suspiciously like decaf, not at all like it did when it was warm - Dylan grumbled something. It takes me a minute to decipher it: Well, Hel-lo, Monday.[/spoiler]

It's fine!

Hi!

Well, I'll go through the nitpicks first:

Monday at the office was a Monday like any other.

chomping down on a multicolored handful of Tums.

The stack of folders that I had left

“You make this.”

Dylan voice [s]has risen[/s]

Dylan grumbled something.