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Talkin' 'bout my dissertation - speak your brains

 
 
Whisky Priestess
11:25 / 15.08.06
Please forgive the dodgy title - it was late when I started the blog and it was all I could think of.

It's like this: I need one more story of 2000-3500 words to complete my MA dissertation in Creative Writing, due in on Wednesday September 6. I've written a bunch that are about the right length, but feel lost without my class, who always used to tell me what sucked and what rocked.

So if you have a spare moment, please have a quick read of the stories on Talkin' 'bout my dissertation and tell me what you think - you can stick your comments in this thread or comment on the blog, and it doesn't have to be detailed. Just tell me which story is your favourite if you like - who needs reasons when you got votes? Link to it from your blog if you feel like it, and I'll reciprocate - the more opinions I get, the better.

Most popular story will make it into my dissertation, and I'll let you know how I do. Influence my academic career! What an offer!

(NB Mods: please can this stay in the Conversation for maximum exposure until September 6? Feel free to move it to Creation thereafter. Cheers.)
 
 
MattShepherd: I WEDDED KALI!
12:49 / 15.08.06
What's a practical deadline for us to get comments to you by?
 
 
Whisky Priestess
15:04 / 15.08.06
If full and detailed comments - Friday September 1st
If a tie-breaker vote - midnight on Tuesday September 5th

Get cracking, critics!
 
 
Happy Dave Has Left
10:12 / 16.08.06
In the middle of reading them now, comments to follow
 
 
Happy Dave Has Left
10:53 / 16.08.06
Right, crit time.

First off, three great stories. Really, I mean that. I was in the Creative Writing programme at my own university, and if stories even half as good as each of these had shown up with any regularity, I would have been over the moon. Well done. That said, I'm not going to pull punches here, so please don't be offended.

First story - Sinterklaasavond

This story leapt right into things, and the voice of the child, though told in the third person, was very authentic. There was just enough 3rd person intervention to structure the story well, but the vocabulary and phrasing put me in the girl's head very effectively. Your descriptions of colours, textures, smells and sounds are very effective, and the story as a whole has a rich but not overwhelming flavour to it. I thought the overarching themes of alienation and loss of innocence were handled deftly, and the ending was very well done, provoking an emotional response without being too sentimental or schmaltzy. That said, the story left me feeling a little uncertain - it seemed more of a short vignette, and aside from showing me the processes and events that can lead a young person to begin hating their body (and doing that very well), it didn't grab me in other ways. I'd rate this third out of the three.

Second story - The Migration of the Sand

I really liked this one. The title however did nothing for me, it's a little too matter of fact. I'd suggest using a line from the story itself - 'We must either burn or drown' or some variant - that line particularly stood out for me in it's starkness. In this story, you got the tone pretty much right, with a real sense of tribal mythology, almost saga-telling, coming through in the rythym of the speech and the formal construction of sentences. It's a difficult trick to pull of without sounding almost parodic, but you've done it really well here. I liked the quasi-fantastical nature of the tribe itself with the wind, sea and beastmasters. I initially searched for signs of modernity (tribesmen toting AK's etc) but twigged that it was almost a nowhereland pretty quickly - it might be worth putting some kind of cue to this earlier in the story. This story's main weakness was that it was resolved and over so quickly - the sense of hopelessness was resolved almost immediately that it was established. If you have the time, I'd suggest a redraft to show the tribe exploring ruins on the seafront, trying anything to escape, perhaps some building rafts and setting off across the sea. It comes off as a little deus ex machina currently.
Use of language is superb - London felt a little more arid after reading it. I was going to place this one first, but I'll rate it second out of three

Third Story - Cuckoo

I was prepared to hate this story, from the first paragraph, which is Dundee-cake like in it's verbal richness. I can handle about two or three sentences of it, but then I'm stuffed. The remainder of the story tones this down considerably and works really well, but I'd suggest a serious edit on that first section.
This story works tremendously well, seemingly at first a domestic story with not a sinister note in sight. There were some delicious stabs of unease scattered through the narrative, building to the awful, disquieting conclusion. I particularly liked the 'bunched fists like a hanging judge' of Big Bear. The story progresses well through deft use of dialogue, though I would personally have the kid asking very slightly fewer questions and allow the mother character more rein in telling the story. The last few lines are superb. I would add some sort of reaction from the child as his mother leaves the room though, to give an idea of the turmoil such a story might provoke in the mind of a child. Something like 'In the darkness, Nicky swallowed in his fever-dry throat, and stared with his blue eyes at the shape of Big Bear in the chair.' I'm sure you can put that better than I have.

All in all though WP, some cracking writing. Thanks for putting it our way!
 
 
Whisky Priestess
12:40 / 16.08.06
That's brilliant, Dave, I really appreciate the comments. It's all the more useful because I haven't had a chance to bounce any of the above off anyone, (except Sinterklaasavond, which I'm aware has problems and probably needs to be extended/deepened in the rewrite).

Also, I will not be offended by anyone's opinions (unless they start going on about the brilliant poetry of Andrew Motion). I need to know things like what puts people off, when things are overwritten, when they're hard to follow (or too easy, blowing the surprise) - everything. So thanks.
 
 
Spaniel
18:58 / 16.08.06
On Cuckoo, I have to say, despite some very elegant, perceptive and thoughtful writing, I wasn't entirely convinced by Mum's psychological motivation. Sure, I know the piece isn't intended to be a character study, and I get all the loss of innocence stuff, but I need mummy's reasons for taking us down such a dark path a little (just a little) more fully fleshed out, because at the moment the story has a cipheric (NEW WORD!) quality that prevents me from more fully engaging with it.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
08:16 / 17.08.06
I totally take your point, but weird as it sounds, it hadn't actually occurred to me that anyone would read it in that way - as the mother just telling a story to scare the bejasus out of her kid. I always liked the idea that she's telling him the absolute truth.

I might see if I can make it work both ways. Cheers.
 
 
Spaniel
10:42 / 17.08.06
I really think it can and I really think you should.

I'll try and get back to this thread later with some suggestions about how you can get there but I'm at work and being watched.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
11:34 / 17.08.06
Cheers dude and thanks again. I frequently need the bleedin' obvious pointed out to me and it's much appreciated.
 
 
Spaniel
13:26 / 17.08.06
Okay, I have a bit of time, so I'll have a crack.

In a blatant example of generalising from my own case, I think it does need stressing that most parents would balk at the idea of scaring their child horribly before turning out the light, whilst simultaneously attempting to shatter their innocence in order to shine the bright light of truth on the world.

I mean, seriously.

However I think Cuckoo does provide the bones of a reason for the mother's actions.

It seems to me that the mother experiences a loss of innocence over the course of the story in that she confronts the reality of her child as a living breathing human being, and not the simply a fantasy object. Her story takes a dark turn while she is having this realization and it's resolution mirrors the conclusions she reaches internally: mummy doesn't get the baby she wants, the perfect baby who will go to the fair, so she'll settle for what she's given.
So, whilst the mother is, on one level, trying to frighten her child, she's also engaging in a kind of cathartic exercise. These are powerful, angry, painful thoughts and she needs to get them out, and at least part of that exercise is likely to manifest as spite (hence her almost sadistic willingness to mess with her baby's head).

It ain't nice, and it ain't pretty, but it works for me.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
11:01 / 18.08.06
Bump - I've updated the site with a couple of book reviews, for some light relief.

Also, new story nearly finished - I'll probably stick it up over the weekend or on Monday.
 
 
Shrug
14:06 / 19.08.06
Just some thoughts Whisky Priestess (so obviously be mindful of their nature as a lot of unqualified balls):

On Cuckoo:

"Night. Quiet. A haze of moonlight seeping through the thin curtains like blood through gauze."

I don't think that either the assonance or the opening one word sentences work very well. Nor did I particularly like the blood/moonlight metaphor I agree it sets the scene for something a mite more sinister but you grab that opportunity with far more success in the oncoming paragraphs. Blood/moon suggests more high danger than anything else and, to open with, the exact centre/aim of the story is missed. A feel of an unapt wrongfoot (imho).

There's a wonderfully building uneasy tension early on as to Nicky's status, some great descriptive words/sentences giving an air of creeping malady and necrosis to the whole interaction. I was quite relieved once you brought Nicky to life (as oppossed to possible death) and despite some almost jarring twee-ness to the verbal interaction (although there probably is a jarring twee-ness to all interactions with children) you bring Nicky to life (this time as a character and little boy) very cannily. This part of the piece seemed quite authentic:

"And guess what she saw dangling from the ceiling of the stall, hung up on a hook like the straps of his dungarees, looking very confused but perfectly all right?”
Nicky smiled.
"Her little boy!"
Mummy strokes his warm soft cheek.
"Clever you. That’s right. So what do you think she had to do?"


I'm not sure about this sentence, however:

"Again Nicky, normally robust to a fault, looks smug in the near-dark."

Is "smug" an apposite antithetical state to "robust"? Not really for me.
Mind that I'm picking because the thread asks to, but apart from that I really liked it, begining/middle/end. Possibly my favourite out of the three (Sinterklaasavond I liked too but as Dave says it doesn't seem to wrap so distinctly as a short story in comparison with the others).

I might write something more thought out on the others at some point too.

Thanks.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
17:53 / 25.08.06
Update: just added new story The hardest florist in Stockwell.

Please to speak your brains.
 
 
Shrug
23:29 / 29.08.06
Oh good! Something enjoyable to discreetly read in work tomorrow!
 
 
Whisky Priestess
10:48 / 30.08.06
Cat/Shrug, to address your point, I think there's a slight misreading here (which it's good to be aware of nonetheless)- basically it's a question of context. A slightly longer extract gives:

“Because when the little boy and his Mummy were going through the fair, the little boy saw the blue candyfloss and wanted some. He’d never seen blue candyfloss before.”

Nicky scoffs. He’d seen it last year, ages and ages ago. He’d eaten so much of it that he’d been sick in the car on the way home. The sick hadn’t been as blue as he’d hoped.

“So, anyway, the little boy was quite a bit littler than you and he was in a pushchair to that his legs didn’t get tired.”

Again Nicky, normally robust to a fault, looks smug in the near-dark.


When Nicky scoffs in para 2 he's feeling smug and superior to the fictional boy who (he thinks) represents his younger self) - not only has the kid never seen blue candyfloss (para 2), but he's so feeble that he has to go in a pushchair because his legs get tired (para 4).

The "normally" in "normally robust" is to remind us that Nicky is actually lying in bed ill, which is probably why he wants to despise the little squirt in the story who's at the fair having all the fun.

Hope that's useful, will attempt a rewrite if other people found it unclear.
 
 
Shrug
16:38 / 30.08.06
Ah, thanks for that Whisky. Never unclear really, I did understand the motivation behind the word usage and in fact thought there was something that worked very well because of "smug" and "robust"'s inclusion in the sentence (which I probably should've mentioned at the time), robust in of itself being a boisterous word and with smug connoting a more withdrawn state. I've somehow always found the the two more commonly aligned than an oppositional state, though. One can be both smug and robust, surely? Robustly smug? Smugly Robust?

Actually looking back I'm not sure what set off alarm bells in my mind, exactly, maybe I was just teh wrong.
 
 
Shrug
16:46 / 30.08.06
I took the comma-enclosed part as a clausal element pertaining to the rest of the sentence, I think.
 
 
Alex's Grandma
15:18 / 01.09.06
'The Hardest Florist In Stockwell' would get my vote.

It's a little over-written at the start (eg 'as the first early-shifters are wriggling in their beds,' 'she'd been in the bloom business for thirty years,' 'the land of midnight sun' - Pete's thoughts might pack a bit more punch if they were more studiedly banal, in my 'umble.) And about halfway through, it's fairy clear how it's going to end - the thing Pete's trying to forget might more interestingly be, I don't know, the corpse of a prostitute he can't work out how to get rid of before his wife gets back from her business trip, or some such; he'd have bought the flowers in a subconscious attempt to try and do something about the smell, or, seeing as the link bewteen flowers and memory seems to be a theme, in an attempt to work out what exactly the body's doing there in the first place. The story has to be a certain length, I appreciate, but if you cut some of the detail earlier on then there might be room for ... well I'm trying to tell my grandmother how to suck eggs, I suppose.

And really, there's lots to like about this. He isn't a good man, Pete, he's much more the other thing, but one does kind of feel for the guy, ultimately.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
10:12 / 02.09.06
Hrmmmmm ... I hadn't considered a corpse ex machina, but it's certanly ... a thought. Although if I do do that in the end, I think I'll keep it to myself rather than have the examiners recommend me for a mental health check.

Speaking of which, if you have half an hour of leisure, ladies and gentlemen, may I suggest that you enjoy the latest story, God damn you, Patsy Cline - if you can. Mwaha. Etc.

(Comments from US posters particularly sought on this one, as I'm not at all sure that I've got the voice down. Cheers.)
 
 
Alex's Grandma
21:34 / 03.09.06
The new material's pretty good, but I still prefer the one about the flowers and the dead prostitute (as it will always be in my hart ...)
 
 
Whisky Priestess
14:14 / 04.09.06
Bumpity bumpity VOTE VOTE VOTE.

Seriously. I've got two days and every comment counts. Bored at work/home/on the train? Just have a quick read and post here (or on the blog, I really have enabled anonoymous comments now, really really) and tell me which one's your favourite. Hugely appreciated if you've got time, and thanks to everyone who's put in their two pence so far.
 
 
Whisky Priestess
09:42 / 08.09.06
Right, it's in. The hardest florist made it in the end, for thanks to size and vehemence of voting response (here, in blog and on email). Thanks, both of you. KIDDING. There were at least three ...

Going to move for this baby to be moved to the Creation now.
 
  
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