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Rough first draft of a short, short story

 
 
Lionheart
19:53 / 04.01.05
He wasn't driving too fast but he did swerve left and right every once in a while to attract attention. It was going to be New Year's Eve soon and he didn't want to spend it alone. The car was warming up now and he relaxed back into his seat, now finding pleasant that he could feel his extremities. He checked his rear-view and side mirrors but there was no cars in the general viscinity(sp?). Finally, without looking, he reached out towards the glove compartment and gave the lock a little flip. He felt around inside of it and eventually pulled out his hand with a quarter liter bottle of rum in his hand. He quickly twisted it open, now driving using only his knees, leaned back his head, poured the rum all over his face and tossed the bottle into the back seat. Now all he had to find was a speed trap.

The billboard up ahead caught his eye. It was a perfect hiding place for a police cruiser to flag down partying speeders. But he had a different idea in mind. He qucikly swerved left. Then right again. Then left. And right. All while keeping up a good speed to attract the attention of the police car laying in waiting. His success was marked by the sudden rise of a siren and the repetitive flashing of red and yellow lights. He pulled over.

The cop slowly approached the car with a maglite in one hand and his other hand hovering ever so slowly over the butt of his gun. He knocked on the driver's side window with his flashlight and peered inside. The window was slowly opened by a 30 something man with rustled and wet black hair, his face half shaved and his head nodding back and forth.

"License and registration."

The driver slowly complied. He leaned towards the open glove compartment and searched around for the documents which he then handed over to the cop.

"Have you been drinking, sir?"

The driver's eyes glazed over and he let out a mumbled "Wuh...what?"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car."

The driver lethargically nodded in agreement and slowly reached to open his seat belt. This proved too much for him for he started to struggle with it while cursing and muttering under his breath. Finally the locking mechanism clicked open and the driver unstrapped his belt, opened the driver's side door and stumbled out. The police officer escorted him to his cruiser and pulled out an oxygen mask connected to a breathalyzer.

"Sir, breathe into this."

The driver seemingly did but the Breathylizer registered no Blood Alcohol Content. The officer shook his head. He could clearly smell alcohol on the man's breath. In fact the man seemed to be surrounded by a hazing aura of alcohol. He was a dangerous driver and had to be taken in.

"Sir, I am placing you under arrest for drunk driving." Then came the handcuffs and the welcome seat in the back of the police cruiser.

"Your Honor, my client was clearly not under the influence of alcohol no matter what Officer Staharsky claims he smelled. The breathylizer test given to my client clearly showed, as Officer Staharsky had admitted, no BAC in my client's blood. That same breathylizer was inspected after my client's arrest and was found to be in perfect working condition. My client was not drunk and in perfect driving condition. I'm sorry to say that my client is just another innocent citizen falled victim to the quota arrest system of the police department! The quantity of arrests do not improve the quality of our streets and of our roads! Innocent people get caught up needlessly in the system and, Your Honor, my client is a clear example of that fact."

The Assistant District Attorney prosecuting the case now eyed Officer Staharsky with annoyance. He had to drop this case. The officer's own testimony had killed the case. He had to let this one go.


And as the client walked out of that courtroom he felt a certainjoy at those memorable memories of spending New Year's Eve, in the company of others, at the county jail.

Le Fin.
 
 
Jack Fear
12:47 / 05.01.05
There's really no story here.

At best there's an idea for a story—and it's not a particularly original idea at that. But you haven't really done anything with that idea.

Gene Wolfe says that story-ideas are like big cats—lions and tigers. They may be large and powerful and potentially dangerous, but that, in itself, is not enough to make them impressive.

Now, you can see lions in the zoo, or you can see them in the circus. The big cats in the zoo mostly sleep, or lounge, or pace around their cages. They don't do much. At Siegfried and Roy's show in Las Vegas, though, the lions and tigers jump through hoops to the accompaniment of dramatic music and showgirls in spangly costumes, open their fangy mouths for the trainer to put his head in.

Either way, you've seen a lion. But it's really not the same thing at all, is it?

In many places, you can go to the zoo for free; Siegfried and Roy can charge big bucks.

There's a reason for that.
 
 
Ender
20:16 / 05.01.05
I think the point of the story is that there is no real story. I can identify with it. Some guy, some cop, some DA, off somewhere else. A short story, pointless really, but it served the purpose of taking my mind off of my life in an entertaining manner for the time I read it. The short makes no promises at the beginning, so it doesn’t need to hold to some scheduled format, and it closes up nicely. Like with anything, it could be longer, but then it would lose some of its charm. All in all, good story.
 
 
Lionheart
18:51 / 06.01.05
Wait...what do you two think the plot of my story is?
 
 
Jack Fear
19:32 / 06.01.05
You're not exactly covering your tracks here—you baldly state your premise in the final paragraphs. In a sentence:

Lonely, alienated guy craves companionship and so arranges to be arrested and briefly incarcerated.

It's the same plot mechanic as the O. Henry story—where Soapy needed steady meals and a bed for ninety days—given a Fight Club twist, with a weekend in county lockup standing in for Tuesday night at a self-help meeting.

It's not a bad idea, but it's nothing more than that: an idea.
 
 
Sax
06:15 / 07.01.05
What you have there, Lionheart, is a well-written synopsis for a story. A story where, hopefully, you will show not tell us what's going on. Why not write it?
 
 
Jack Fear
11:04 / 07.01.05
Exactly. It wouldn't be a bad story, if someone bothered to, y'know, actually write it.
 
 
Jack Fear
11:51 / 07.01.05
What we're talking about here, Lionheart, is a concept that creative-writing types kick around and that you may or may not know about: the "MICE quotient"—Milieu, Idea, Character, and Event. One of these tends to be dominant in any given story, and that largely determines the story's structure. This slideshow (lecture notes for a writing class) lays it out in a bit more detail.

Your story, as it stands, has a classic Idea Story structure. A mystery (Why is the protagonist trying to get himself arrested?) is laid out, and the last paragraph—the twist ending—is supposed to make us go, "Oh, so THAT's what it all meant!"

There's something I've seen in my years as a writer and writing tutor: beginning writers tend to structure all their stories as Idea Stories. That comes, I think, from insecurity about their own writing skills—character and atmosphere are hard, let’s face it. (Endings are also hard: the Idea Story structure takes care of that, too, since you know you’re building towards the Big Reveal.)

And so they try to make an end-run around the demands of character and milieu, and push their stories into a structure where (they think) those things don’t matter as much—where the only thing that’s really important is surprising the reader with that great shock ending. Some teachers call ‘em HAITE stories: “Here's An Idea, The End.”

There's nothing wrong with Idea Stories, as such. But not every story fits comfortably in the Idea Story structure—and even for those that do, it takes a very very strong idea indeed to carry a story (even a short one) all on its own. (And your one idea is, frankly, not that strong.) The best Idea Stories also have strong character writing, action, and atmosphere to help the idea along—to make it jump through hoops, to return to my previous metaphor.

But many stories don’t belong in the Idea Story structure at all. Yours, it seems to me, is clearly a Character Story, a study in loneliness and the extremes to which it drives one man, and of his attempt to change his situation. Why not approach it from that angle? Instead of trying to surprise us with the ending, why not make your idea, your premise, your starting point, and build from there?

An idea: Why not rewrite the whole thing, starting with the line “Gordon, sorely in need of companionship, put on his overcoat and set out to get himself arrested again,” or somesuch, and see where it takes you?
 
 
Lionheart
15:51 / 09.01.05
Fuck! O'Henry, that damned time traveller ripped off my story!

But seriously, the idea obviously isn't original as this sort of thing is usually done by homeless people in the wintertime. Some guy became a Fark staple after some local PD (Police Department) started posting mug shots of people arrested for public drunkenness on their website and this one guy showed up in at least 30 mugshots.

Now why the story seems not like a story but an idea because...that's what it was when I sat down to write it. I didn't have much time so I wrote out that rough draft. It was so rough that I didn't know if I got the idea across and so I put in that last sentence. Yeah, it was written to be mystery like because, it seems to me, if I revealed that the guy was planning to get himself arrested on New Year's Eve in order to spend New Year's in the company of others, then there'd be no reason to write the rest of the story. It would've given away the trick that opens up the box.

I'm still confused by oyu saying that it's an idea and not a story though. What do you mean? What is the above draft (which will definatly be wrewritten) missing?
 
 
ONLY NICE THINGS
08:34 / 10.01.05
I think the thing is that nobody really has a personality in the story. The only interiority we get we get is when the author tells us exactly what the characters are thinking:

It was going to be New Year's Eve soon and he didn't want to spend it alone.

We're told the guy is lonely, but he doesn't _feel_ lonely, and he doesn't _read_ lonely.

We are told what the characters are doing, we are told what the characters are thinking - there's no space in the narrative. As a reader, I'm not getting pleasure from the text...

More generally, and because it was presumably written quickly, it really needs some editing and corrections, but that's probably not the immediate issue.
 
 
Alex's Grandma
19:12 / 10.01.05
Reading this quickly, first time round, I quite liked the idea of so-and-so, the hero, being so disgusted with the police that he was prepared to fake being DUTI just to make them look silly. On second reading, I appreciate that wasn't what you were really getting at, but it might be good, too.

I remain interested in the idea that you can apparently " teach " in an area where you might otherwise have never got round to doing to anything all that exciting, though.
 
 
Jack Fear
00:08 / 11.01.05
I beg your pardon?
 
 
Alex's Grandma
19:14 / 11.01.05
Apologies, JF, if that seemed a bit snippy. Which I dare say it did.
 
 
Jack Fear
19:36 / 11.01.05
You don't have to be a dancer yourself to notice when the ballerina falls flat on her ass.
 
  
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