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Young Writers Society


18+ Language Mature Content

Too Much Blank Space, Not Enough Vomit - Ch. 1.1

by FruityBickel


Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and mature content.

Rhys Hartman lit a cigarette.

It was raining, and he was stooped under the covering of the church's porch, which was supported by two white pillars on either side, yellowing and cracking with age. On either side of the porch were beds of mulch in which flowers Rhys didn't know the name of were slowly dying, murdered ruthlessly by the oncoming chill of November. Winters in Kentucky where a roll of the dice; some years rather warm, some years cold enough to kill off a colony. Rhys could feel in his bones, the way one sometimes can feel things in their bones, in their very beings, that this year was going to be the latter. He hoped they wouldn't have another ice storm.

Other people were starting to filter out of the church now, chatting about carrying the message and sharing strength, hope and experience. Rhys took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled smoke through his nose as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket to check the time and his messages. Ethan was working late at the diner, could Rhys get a ride home? It was good for Rhys to socialize anyway. Rhys rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone again, pulling his hood up over his honey golden curls as he began walking. It wasn't that far to where they lived in an apartment complex within the inner turmoil of the city; an hour, tops, and Rhys thought about how he should be better at estimating these things, that he should know more about how to get around their city.

He turned onto Fifth Avenue, taking one last draw off his current cigarette before flicking it into the street and lighting a new one from the crumpled pack in his left pocket. His phone began to vibrate ceaselessly in his right pocket, blasting out the X-Files theme music as it rang. He fished it out from its hiding spot, saw it was Lip who was calling him and answered it, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Yo."

"How come I see your white gringo ass walking down Fifth Avenue?"

"Because you're a stalker?" Rhys suggested, craning his neck to look behind him. A few blocks down was Lip's red Chevy pickup truck, roaring towards him. They hung up on each other as Lip slowed to an inching crawl beside Rhys.

"Let me give you a ride."

Rhys shook his head. "No thanks."

"Why're you taking the long way around, dumbass?" Lip and Rhys lived in the same apartment building, same apartment, one floor separated, 304 and 404. Unlike Rhys, Lip already knew the city like the back of his hand, knew every backstreet and alleyway the way Sherlock Holmes knows London. Rhys took a long drag off his cigarette, staring ahead as he sauntered forward without answering. Lip suddenly understood.

"You're gonna go score."

"You caught me," Rhys sighed, holding up his arms on either side of himself in mock defeat.

"Dude, didn't you just get back from rehab?"

"Don't see why that matters."

"That must've cost thousands," Lip pointed out, his caramel brown eyes flitting between Rhys' face and the road. He was a handsome man, by everyone's standard but especially by Rhys'; with his deep brown skin and hands covered in calluses from the factory work and guitar playing, his dazzling white teeth that were perfectly straight when he smiled, and Spanish that slipped smoothly from his tongue like water over a worn out path. "You gonna just throw it away?"

Rhys shrugged. "Mom paid for it."

"Get in the truck, idiot, at least let me drive you so you have a somewhat decreased chance of dying." Lip brought the truck to a halt, staring at Rhys expectantly. Rhys sighed, exhaling an annoyed cloud of smoke in the process, then did as he was told, climbing into the passenger seat and kicking floorboard trash out of his way as he did so. The truck was at least thirty years old, with a souped up engine built by Lip and his father. What Lip's dad didn't know was that the souped-up engine allowed Lip to win every competition in the illegal street racing ring he was a part of. What Lip didn’t know, or didn’t remember, was that he and Rhys had spent a very, very drunken night together in the bed of that pickup truck, parked in a field under the stars. Things had happened, things Rhys remembered but could never talk about unless he wanted to ruin their friendship. So far, it had been the best night of his life.

“The dope house on Lexington?” Lip guessed, revving the engine to bring the truck up to the speed limit. Rhys rolled down his window to flick his ashes.

“Yeah.”

The two had been friends, best friends since eighth grade year. That was when Rhys’ mother had moved away, when the Garcia family had allowed Rhys and his older brother Ethan to stay in the living room of their apartment until Ethan could find a steady a job and afford the two a place of their own. That year Rhys and Lip walked to school together every day, stayed up too late playing video games and Scrabble together, had helped make dinner together with the family every night. Rhys had been the first person Lip told about losing his virginity two years later; the year after, Rhys had lost his own virginity to Lip. 

Rhys tried to push the thought from his mind as he watched the Victorian style houses roll by, some of them with flowerbeds in their windows, the reds and blues of their exteriors blurring together, their cracks and broken windows and crumbling front steps visible one second and behind them in the next. Rhys thought about the people living in the houses, the kind of lives they led; how long they had lived where they live, houses passed down through the generations, how many still had house payments, how many of the houses had rooms that had seen death firsthand. Who had a pet and who didn’t, who had parents still breathing and who didn’t; who, if anyone, was like him, in every single sense. He thought about how his life intersected with everyone else’s on the planet, the same planes of existing, the same signifiers of who they were. He thought about all this and took a drag off his cigarette, his thunderstorm eyes hooded. He felt no joy inside him, and wondered if there had ever been any.

They pulled up outside of the condemned house that was the dope den on Lexington Avenue. Lip put the truck in park.

“You can go ahead and leave,” Rhys told him. “I’m gonna be a little while. I can walk home after.”

Lip wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything besides, “I’ll wait.”


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Sun Jun 30, 2019 10:30 pm
BluesClues wrote a review...



I honestly love the entire first paragraph. (I mean, okay, technically it's the second paragraph because the first paragraph is one line, but shhh.) It's really lyrical, captures my interest immediately, and sets the tone of the story nicely.

knew every backstreet and alleyway the way Sherlock Holmes knows London.


I see what you did there.

I like the way we're introduced organically to Rhys' drug use - it comes across clearly without being hammered into our heads. Also the line about how Mom paid for rehab already gives us a good idea of Rhys' relationship with his mom.

Lip wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything besides, “I’ll wait.”


I love him.

I think this works really well as an opening to the story, because it catches my interest, the style is engaging, there's a strong voice, and it really starts laying the groundwork for the rest of the story. I'm overly familiar with the story, so I can't give any insight into how people might feel about Rhys from the get-go, but I clearly remember loving Lip the first time he showed up in the story (since he's a more recent character and has thus changed less and I can remember how I felt about him). Depending on the reader, Rhys may come across as unlikable at this point, although I think I remember you saying something about how he's just kind of a jerk in this draft? And there's nothing wrong with having an unlikable character - the problem is when you've got a main character who inspires no feelings at all.

At any rate, I think he also has the potential to inspire some sympathy since we see that he and Ethan are more or less on their own.




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Sat May 04, 2019 4:59 pm
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Mageheart wrote a review...



Hi there, LordStar! I'm here as requested. :) Since this is the first review you're receiving from me, I'll give you a quick rundown on how my style of reviewing works. I start off with a section where I comment on individual lines and/or paragraphs of your story, and end with a section where I give my overall thoughts on the piece.

Small Comments


Rhys Hartman lit a cigarette.


While this isn't the most unique hook I've read before, it does a great job at establishing the protagonist! The reader immediately knows that his name is Rhys and that he smokes. By the way, I love the name you chose for him - the first name and last name really go well with each other. It's a memorable name.

It was raining, and he was stooped under the covering of the church's porch, which was supported by two white pillars on either side, yellowing and cracking with age.


I love the juxtaposition of the church and Rhys smoking; it makes both your setting and protagonist stand out more.

Rhys rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone again, pulling his hood up over his honey golden curls as he began walking.


I like how you subtly slipped that piece of description in right there - now I know that he likes hoods and has blond hair.

"You're gonna go score."

"You caught me," Rhys sighed, holding up his arms on either side of himself in mock defeat.

"Dude, didn't you just get back from rehab?"


You seem to have a knack for slipping in little details about the story without info dumping, and I absolutely love it. I already knew Rhys was an addict from the description you gave me when requesting a review, but this conversation shows the reader just how addicted he is.

What Lip didn’t know, or didn’t remember, was that he and Rhys had spent a very, very drunken night together in the bed of that pickup truck, parked in a field under the stars. Things had happened, things Rhys remembered but could never talk about unless he wanted to ruin their friendship.


I knew I saw a potential love interest when Lip showed up.

Lip wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything besides, “I’ll wait.”


I'm loving Rhys and Lip's friendship already. <3

Overall Comments

I tried very hard to find something to critique, but that something has yet to appear! This was a great opening chapter to a novel. You set the tone with just the right amount of imagery and description - if the summary you gave me didn't already let me know that the beginning of the story, at least, was going to be dreary, the descriptions of the church and weather definitely gave me that impression.

I mentioned this in the previous section, but you also seamlessly wove in bits of background information. The conversation was just one good example of it - there were other times were you also alerted the reader to key information without starting the story off with "Hi, my name is Rhys and here's the important things about my life:".

Overall, I love your writing style. It's engaging, it has great grammar, and it makes me eager to read more of your novel if I ever have the time to. <3




FruityBickel says...


Ahhhh thanks for the review!!



Mageheart says...


You're welcome!



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Thu Apr 11, 2019 7:54 am
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papillote wrote a review...



Hi, Papillote here, still on duty and back for a review. This is supposed to be constructive critic so, please, don’t take any of the following too badly. I’m only trying to help you get better. Let me start with the nitpicks, then I’ll move on to the overall feel of this chapter.

There are a couple of small mistakes. The only one I can spot right now is on the 2nd paragraph: “Winters in Kentucky where a roll of the dice; some years rather warm, some years cold enough to kill off a colony.” You probably meant “were”.

Your sentences tend to be very long. It’s probably just your writing style, but you risk losing your reader if your sentence’s the least bit confusing or grammatically shaky. The sentence that brought that home for me was in the 2nd paragraph: “On either side of the porch were beds of mulch in which flowers Rhys didn't know the name of were slowly dying, murdered ruthlessly by the oncoming chill of November.” Although “Rhys could feel in his bones, the way one sometimes can feel things in their bones, in their very beings, that this year was going to be the latter. He hoped they wouldn't have another ice storm.” (and I’m pretty sure the grammar on that one is faulty).

You shouldn’t neglect the organization of your paragraphs. For example, you wrote:
“"Why're you taking the long way around, dumbass?" Lip and Rhys lived in the same apartment building, same apartment, one floor separated, 304 and 404. Unlike Rhys, Lip already knew the city like the back of his hand, knew every backstreet and alleyway the way Sherlock Holmes knows London. Rhys took a long drag off his cigarette, staring ahead as he sauntered forward without answering. Lip suddenly understood.
"You're gonna go score."”

It might have made the dialogue clearer to read if you had simply written:

“"Why're you taking the long way around, dumbass?"
Lip and Rhys lived in the same apartment building, same apartment, one floor separated, 304 and 404. Unlike Rhys, Lip already knew the city like the back of his hand, knew every backstreet and alleyway the way Sherlock Holmes knows London. Rhys took a long drag off his cigarette, staring ahead as he sauntered forward without answering.
Lip suddenly understood. "You're gonna go score."”


Now, my overall impression. Your main protagonist was both relatable and annoying as f***, kind of like a teenage cousin. I feel that you really gave him a voice. Once or twice in the chapter, he made me snort-laugh.

The first time was when he describes the end of his NA meeting: “Other people were starting to filter out of the church now, chatting about carrying the message and sharing strength, hope and experience.” My first thought was ‘Wow, sounds more like Christmas Mass than my experience of AA.’ Then, I realized he was probably being sarcastic, and that was almost poetic.

Then, same paragraph, Ethan’s messages. Haha. What an awesome brother…I had a feeling he was a big brother before I got to the end of the chapter.

His interactions with Lip were alright, but nothing special, and I wanted to smack him about how casual he was about relapsing. The most annoying people on Earth are those who throw away their chances, I swear.

And making his best friend drop him off at a dope den…That’s just cruel, or incredibly selfish, or both.




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Tue Apr 09, 2019 8:42 pm
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ExOmelas wrote a review...



Hey, you know what I haven't done in absolutely ages - a review. You know what I haven't read in absolutely ages - this story.

Nit-picks:

pulling his hood up over his honey golden curls as he began walking

"honey" feels like a slightly odd choice for me. Because it's kind of third person limited perspective, it feels like Rhys is describing his own hair with the word "honey". That doesn't seem like something someone would say about their own hair.

crumpled pack in his left pocket. His phone began to vibrate ceaselessly in his right pocket

slightly repetitive sentence structure. i didn't mention this with the example before, the bit about feeling things in your bones. it feels less on purpose here than there.

blasting out the X-Files theme music as it rang

Do you blast out the X-Files theme? Is it not kind of quiet-sounding?

Lip pointed out, his caramel brown eyes flitting between Rhys' face and the road. He was a handsome man, by everyone's standard but especially by Rhys'

"caramel" however makes sense to describe someone else here :P

The two had been friends, best friends since eighth grade year.

The paragraph starting here is way too big aesthetically. I haven't started reading it yet so maybe it'll be unavoidable, but I'd split it regardless to get rid of that instinctive off-putting feeling.

Rhys tried to push the thought from his mind as he watched the Victorian style houses roll by

Here is where I would break the paragraph if I was you.

He thought about all this and took a drag off his cigarette, his thunderstorm eyes hooded.

Weirdly, you'd think I'd mention that someone wouldn't describe their own eyes as thunderstorm but if Rhys hasn't changed too much since I last read him I think he might?

Overall:

Okay so obviously I'm thoroughly intrigued by the new character. I've seen you work on this a couple of times since the first draft and Lip is not a name I've encountered yet. I'm also intrigued if that's his real name or a nickname, so that's a nice in-built hook. I like the way he seems to be like a cooler version of Ethan. He has that impatience, I think, calling Rhys an idiot and stuff, but doesn't seem as likely to let his love make him blow up and get angry. The backstory was also introduced at a good pace and leading with the smaller mention of their night together was good.

One thing I'm worried about in terms of Lip is that Ethan's character development in the first draft was sort of him becoming less angry at Rhys. Essentially, becoming more like Lip. I'm wondering where Lip would fit into that, and worry he could be just a better version of Ethan.

Chances are he will have other flaws that show up, but just to let you know that's something I'm thinking about.

Your use of setting was way, way improved on most other drafts of this I've read. Excellent job.

I'm interested by the fact that you haven't mentioned he's trans in this first chapter. Is that on purpose, for it to like, not be the thing that defines him?

I think that's all I can say before it just becomes asking which characters from previous drafts have made the cut for this one so I'll just stop here.

Hope this helps,
Biscuits :)





Knowledge is power.
— Francis Bacon