Walkabout - A Short Story

[WinterSun]

Don't ask me what it all means. I just know it takes a week of heavy drinking, smoking and whoring to get over it.

 

I like that.

[Baley]

Walkabout - A Short Story

 

 

I was walking, or running, or trekking, or marching, doing just about everything a man can do to get from point A to point B on two legs. Point A was the small town of Devils Lake, North Dakota, home of Satan, Sioux relocation and a whole lot of water. 79

[kalimeeri]

You've got some talent, Baley. Proud o' ya. Keep writing.

[Archmonarch]

If she returns my kiss we proceed to the bedroom, an old bed with old sheets and a red wooden lamp, if not I show her the way out with the same gentle smile on my face.

 

I found myself an orphan at tender the age of 17.

 

There were plenty of bars on the open road and where there were bars you usually found women as well, negotiable women, bless their souls.

 

I saw a cowboy shoot fifteen bottles straight, seemed like quite a feet to a dumb kid with an attitude problem.

 

He was 6.7 and 250 pounds.

 

50%-50%.

 

"What now?" I asked.

"LA."

"Huh?"

"The stars, the beach, the babes. "

"Yeah."

"Wanna come?"

"You know, I just might."

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

I really liked it. Good narrator, allows the reader to sympathize with him despite the murder and everything.

 

What Ive done here is separate the areas where I noticed a problem, either one that occurs in only this one place or one that you follow throughout the piece. I'll go through it in order.

 

1. Several times, I noticed runons, as in the first example. Here I would either use a semi-colon or separate it into two sentences. Either would work.

 

2. No big thing, just a few words out of order. Should be "at the tender age of..."

 

3. Same thing as 1.

 

4. Feat not feet.

 

5. This may be an American thing, but Ive always seen height done like this: 6' 7". Since your story is set in North Dakota, might want to try that.

 

6. Similar to 5, Ive always seen it 50-50, no percent.

 

7. Separate dialogue. Each should be as its own paragraph. As so:

 

"What now?" I asked.

 

"LA."

 

And so on.

 

 

Also, one thing I forgot to quote, you spelled stared incorrectly several times. One r, not two. Minor thing but it stands out to english readers.

 

Otherwise, great story. I agree with kal; you have talent.

Edited June 5, 2006 by Archmonarch

[Baley]

Thanks, guys.

 

Duly Noted. You know, I'm a terrible proof reader. The last time I submitted a piece for a literary competition I spent a tremendous amount of energy polishing it.

 

You're right about almost all those things, blame it on my overly-dazed persona or my inherent dislike of semi-colons.

 

Except 7, that was intentional. I preferred writing each event in its own paragraph.

Edited June 5, 2006 by Baley

[kirottu]

Except 7, that was intentional. I preferred writing each event in its own paragraph.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

I agree.

[Baley]

Hehehe. You've yet to comment on the whole story, you sneak feline, you! : (

 

I've amended the story. Well, you can all thank Walsingham for editing it. Cheers.

[Fenghuang]

ConvoKiller87: I just wanted to say I liked the story.

ConvoKiller87: Character was somewhat sympathetic even though he was a sleaze.

ConvoKiller87: At least I didn't hate him though I probably should've.

ConvoKiller87: Jeremiah was interesting, I almost wish you'd explored him a little more.

ConvoKiller87: Good story.

kryoxer: You know, Jeremiah was possibly a rapist. \

kryoxer: I wouldn't call The Narrator a sleaze. Just tired.

ConvoKiller87: Hm.

ConvoKiller87: I missed the rapist line.

ConvoKiller87: Was that supposed to be obvious or ambiguous?

ConvoKiller87: To me it just seemed like he got caught screwin a farmgirl in an uptight Christian society.

ConvoKiller87: Also he was black.

kryoxer: He had just had his way with a farmer's daughter who was madly in love with him, that's what he claimed anyway

kryoxer: It's all about what other people claim. Horace, Ian

[Walsingham]

Hehehe. You've yet to comment on the whole story, you sneak feline, you! : (

 

I've amended the story. Well, you can all thank Walsingham for editing it. Cheers.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

 

Please don't mention the beastly affair.

[SteveThaiBinh]

I think it's pretty good, though it's not the kind of story I often read, so I don't know how useful my suggestions would be. Still, here are a few random thoughts.

 

The opening paragraph has a lot of long lists: walking, running, trekking, marching, or fat broads, tall broads, blondes etc. I just feel you need to grab the reader's attention more quickly, and that the strengths of the story don't come across in the beginning.

 

The guy is verbose with his descriptions, yet he omits the grammatical subject of his sentences a lot like a man of few words might. The two don't sit well together for me.

 

If I could persuade you to cut any sentence, it would be "My left hand is foreign to me", even over the thing with the monkey nipples.

 

The treatment of Heinesen and how Iain justifies his murder to himself could do with some fleshing out, and probably deserves a paragraph either by itself or coupled with the murder. doesn't seem to go together with the description of the hotel and the clerk.

 

I like the sudden intrusion of dialogue at the end, for the first and last time. You might even consider ending the story on that, without the following sentences.

 

Overall, very interesting and a good read.

[Baley]

I think it's pretty good, though it's not the kind of story I often read, so I don't know how useful my suggestions would be. Still, here are a few random thoughts.

 

What do you usually read? I've been trying to broaden my literary horizons. I bought:

 

William S. Burroughs' The Western Lands,

Philip K. Dick's The Man in the High Castle,

Louis-Ferdinand C

[SteveThaiBinh]

I'm confident your literary horizons are broader than mine. I seem to read very little these days...

 

I don't think the beginning is bad at all, but it certainly didn't come across to me as fast. Iain gives all this detail about his job, for example. I think you could cut out a third of the words in that paragraph while still giving just as good an introduction to the character yet also supporting the idea that he's a man of few words. I'm not suggesting that you write the whole narrative in three-word sentences, just that the first paragraph is so important in giving us an impression of the man, and the things he chose to talk about and how he talked about them stay with the reader through the rest of the story.

 

I think your writing has a number of strengths. I like Horace's 'small beautiful child some punk stole', because it contains a world of pain in very few words and you don't elaborate. I like the sudden changes of pace, at the crash site for example, suggesting a panic attack and then talking him down and back into calm? ambivalence? I've enjoyed the story more each time I've re-read it, and that's definitely a compliment.

 

Obviously I wouldn't call Iain verbose to his face. I like my life, and my limbs. The lead-up to the murder suggests ambivalence and apathy, yet there's this anger that Iain creates within himself, then the murder itself is back to complete calm. I don't know - it works, but (and I'm not suggesting any anvils, I hope) could do with a bit more reflection, a bit more of the aftermath of each mood swing, and a bit more signposting for the reader. This is the time for Iain to get verbose, maybe?

 

OK, I'm done now. :">

[Baley]

Wait. Iain is not The Narrator. Iain is the poor drifter The Narrator discovers at the crash site. His letter was written on the napkin. The one the Narrator was hardly fond off.

 

Uh, did anyone else think of Iain as The Narrator? I need to know this.

[SteveThaiBinh]

Just me, maybe?

 

Oh well, for 'Iain', read 'The narrator' in my posts.

[Daaave]

I thought Iain was the narrator at first as well.

[Baley]

I thought Iain was the narrator at first as well.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Define at first. Did you realise he was not during the "Crash" paragraph?

 

Obviously I wouldn't call Iain verbose to his face. I like my life, and my limbs. original.gif The lead-up to the murder suggests ambivalence and apathy, yet there's this anger that Iain creates within himself, then the murder itself is back to complete calm. I don't know - it works, but (and I'm not suggesting any anvils, I hope) could do with a bit more reflection, a bit more of the aftermath of each mood swing, and a bit more signposting for the reader. This is the time for Iain to get verbose, maybe?

 

Oh, that depends on how much the Narrator is willing to share. His actions show those feelings not the man himself, he's not very introspective. He's not one to talk about his feelings much, I think he'd prefer some booze myself. The man's all about action.

[Daaave]

I didn't realise Iain wasn't the narrator until I read the "Crash" paragraph a couple more times. When I first read it through I assumed it was Iain saying how he had seen the body on his journey.

[Baley]

Perhaps I should rewrite Iain's passage in a more distinctive style? And swap the next two paragraphs?

 

I realise now that his writing style is somewhat similar to The Narrator's. It was supposed to show how akin two drifters can be, yet still, in a way, different. Iain has his own background and that too is seen in his technique. He's more showy, I think, more prone to wild externalizing, more accepting of what society calls for in a man. In his dying moments he's still focused on what the world demands of all of us. That, I believe, is what annoyed The Narrator.

Edited June 7, 2006 by Baley

[Baley]

"The name they gave me is Iain McAllister Cormack. I saw the light of existence in Fargo some twenty years ago. My father was a musician and my mother a housemaid. She had beautiful green eyes and I can still, at times, recall the way she looked at me as I was growing up. Imagine a kind woman, poor, lonely, putting all her hopes in a small child. Father was a drunk, and though I swear to God he never laid a hand on me or my mother, he was more than content with wasting his life in sleazy bars, talking trash and gulping trash. Mother worked hard, a hundred hours a week. She slaved in backward mansions, taking orders from rich ladies, eyed, mistrusted, observed, analyzed and discussed. She wasn't part of their world. None of us were. Poor Mother wanted me to have a proper education at one of those fancy upper-class schools. She took me to Church on Sundays and we prayed to the Virgin Mary together. I didn't know the words so she had to whisper them. When it was all over she gave me a hug and kissed me on the forehead. The job ended  my mother, just as much as the booze ruined my father. I found myself an orphan at the tender the age of 17. I knew how to write, read and play guitar. My uncle, a skinny aged dandy, gave me a job, cleaning shoes, doing laundry. It was like I was turning into my mother. Giving in to their whimsies. My next career was in the mail business. It lasted a mere thirty days. Shortly afterwards I decided on hitting the road. Got me some new boots and went down south. I spent years on the road. Doing small jobs and even smaller crimes. It changes a man. I think I'll have to end this soon. I can no longer feel my feet. My left hand is alien to me. All I have now is this shoddy second-hand table napkin. Consider it my memoirs. I wasn't a bad man and I didn't do bad things. Perhaps I followed the wrong people and maybe I hurt some decent folks along the way. But I didn't mean to, honest, I'm a good man. a good man"

 

It was a cold July 6th and I had just purchased an umbrella and a pair of gumboots from a nearby town. Fitted me nicely, liked them already. Can't say I was missing my old life all that much. There were plenty of bars on the open road. And where there were bars you usually found women as well, negotiable women, bless their souls. Fell in love with one once, lasted about four minutes, she was busy working some random bum, had a nice face. Yeah, I think that's what I liked about her. It all cooled off though when I met Big Al. Big Al was her guardian, at least that's how he introduced himself. He said "Nobody puts them charms on one of my girls, kid." and kicked me in the balls. I started sprinting in the opposite direction, left hand clutching my nuts on account of the pain, stormed out of the inn. Suppose I marched some five miles that day, heavy snow. Pretty good for a cripple running on fear.

 

There was this great crash site, a ford, completely wasted, fragments, blood, remains, everywhere. I couldn't breath. The smell was intoxicating. All of a sudden, my head, couldn't trust my head, staring at absolutely nothing in particular, not blind, not deaf, just not 100% there. Oh God. Oh God. Realization. A man, he laid there, wasn't moving, wasn't moving. I wanted to see his face. Wanted to see him so badly. I approached his body. No sparkle in his eyes, no movement in his chest, just peace, a long dead peace. I wanted to talk to the man. Not cause I cared for him. Didn't even know him, just another drifter, like me, maybe that was it, self-centered to the very end. Maybe I just needed a beer or maybe I could just pretend it never happened. Just leave him there. There was something on the ground, a piece of paper with drawings on the sides, a napkin, written on it he's last words. I read them. Bored me. Poor bastard. Decided on leaving him alone for a while. Could use some rest. Walked. Notified the next town's police force, tanned old sheriff - weaselly buck-toothed deputy. Their problem now.

 

 

I know no one really cares at this stage, but ^ that's been edited into the main text. Opinions?

 

Cheers, Meta, I realise I can be a tedious tiring bore of man when I'm craving for sleep. This has to be one of the most most mod-edited threads in recent forum history.

Edited June 7, 2006 by Baley

[metadigital]

That's okay, as long as I don't have to read it ... (j/k) :D

[Baley]

Oh, Mister Digital, you truly possess one of the most mischievous online personas. Now, read it and post your impressions or I'll cry! Honest!

[Cantousent]

I've read the thread. I'll have some comments tomorrow night or Sunday.

 

First things first, however, I'd like to start off with what I perceive as strong points in your story.

 

First of all, this piece is less edgy than some of your other work. I happen to think that "edgy" is a strength for you, but it sometimes comes at the cost of cohesion. This story isn't conventional, but it is understandable. That's a feat in and of itself.

 

Another thing that struck me is how you manage to create a sympathetic character out of a truly flawed person. In fact, it makes for a compelling protagonist. Some folks might be quite disdainful of your main character, but that's okay. They'll read through the whole thing just because they don't like the guy. Most folks will probably feel sorry for him. I know I do.

 

The way you use dialogue is quite clever. The one criticism I have for tonight is that, as Steve says, the quick dialogue at the end is an excellent place to stop. Of course, that's a lot of conventional thinking, so you might want to end it differently. However, the dialogue is much stronger than the sentences that follow. If you decide to continue after the dialogue, you should have something to offer that has more impact than the dialogue itself. Since I'm a big fan of that quick, little exchange, I don't see what would be better at this point.

 

It seems to me that you want to keep the story moving at a really brisk pace with an Ian's interlude separating the two parts of the main narrative. I don't think it's all that bad to confuse folks about whether or not Ian and the narrator are the same person. After all, when you're a rich, famous author, folks will debate the issue at universities.

 

Finally, it's a pleasure to see someone who so clearly enjoys writing. It's a real pleasure to see someone who gets such unabashed pleasure from folks reading his writing. Great luck to you, sir. I'll have some specific stuff tomorrow, but I'll say a pray for your competition. If you find my prayer offensive, you may consider it well wishing instead. :Eldar's cheerleader icon:

[Baley]

  I've read the thread. I'll have some comments tomorrow night or Sunday

 

Eagerly awaiting them.

 

The way you use dialogue is quite clever. The one criticism I have for tonight is that, as Steve says, the quick dialogue at the end is an excellent place to stop. Of course, that's a lot of conventional thinking, so you might want to end it differently. However, the dialogue is much stronger than the sentences that follow. If you decide to continue after the dialogue, you should have something to offer that has more impact than the dialogue itself. Since I'm a big fan of that quick, little exchange, I don't see what would be better at this point.

 

You're right about the lack of strength. Both you and Steve make pretty convincing cases. Now, what I really like about the last paragraph are the 3 adverbs. Suppose I do this:

 

The next day a guy came to our room. Didn't mention how he found us. Didn't mention a God damn thing. He simply left a black suitcase and said goodbye in a low gruff voice. "Goodbye" I replied. I spied with my little eye something beginning with H. Horace. He was outside, sneaky devil, got in the same car as the suitcase man and hurried into the sunset. Or something like that, anyway. The money was in there. All of it. Me and Jerry shared it. 50-50.

 

"What now?" I asked.

"LA."

"Huh?"

"The stars, the beach, the babes. "

"Yeah."

"Wanna come?"

"You know, I just might."

 

 

Obviously. Surely. Definitely.

 

Eh?

 

It seems to me that you want to keep the story moving at a really brisk pace with an Ian's interlude separating the two parts of the main narrative. I don't think it's all that bad to confuse folks about whether or not Ian and the narrator are the same person. After all, when you're a rich, famous author, folks will debate the issue at universities.

 

It seems kinda dishonest to The Narrator. And he doesn't fancy that. He's more of an honorable kind of guy.

 

Finally, it's a pleasure to see someone who so clearly enjoys writing. It's a real pleasure to see someone who gets such unabashed pleasure from folks reading his writing. Great luck to you, sir. I'll have some specific stuff tomorrow, but I'll say a pray for your competition. If you find my prayer offensive, you may consider it well wishing instead. :Eldar's cheerleader icon:

 

Now, why would I do that? Hell, under various circumstances, I'd even recite a prayer with you.

 

 

 

 

Got some free time so I'll try doing a vignette for that TOMBS thread. It may or may not have something to do with administering sausages.

Edited June 10, 2006 by Baley

[Cantousent]

Okay, first things first, never write a lengthy response and then decide to look at something on a different page. I lost a considerable amount of writing. However, I'm determined to give you the review I promised, so back to square one. :Eldar's shouting expletives at his computer screen icon:

 

From what I wrote previously, you tend to use the rule of threes a lot in your writing. I fall into the same practice, which is good when it suits your purpose but not so much when you find yourself searching for your third item to round off the list. I had a rather clever way of getting this point across, but I was f'n stupid and erased it. Suffice it to say, you should be careful you don't force yourself to write a list of threes about everything. We humans have this odd tendency to like the number three. The Christians like it. The ancient Egyptians liked it. Hell, ancient folks all over the place bought into the whole "three" idea and it's been the same ever since. On the other hand, you don't want to invent items where they really don't exist. Using less that three can be economical, brief, and.... umm... a lot less searching for something to stick into the list.

 

Now that I've said that, "stars...beach...babes" compliments "obviously. Surely. Definitely" quite nicely. I like the new ending better. It's like much of your writing in that you force the reader to try to figure out what the hell you're saying. Keep 'em confused, that's Baley's motto. It works. :haksthumbsup:

 

Speaking of that, I don't know why it's so important that folks don't confuse the narrator with Ian. You actually drop a pretty hefty hint when Ian says he's from Fargo while the narrator lives in a house that his family has owned for generations in Devil's Lake. My gut instinct is that some folks will still be confused, but that's not such a terrible thing. Make them think. If push comes to shove, you've got the evidence. In addition to the country house thing, Ian's interlude is separated by quotation marks and it's in italics. Anything more than that and you're beating your reader over the head with the idea. Much better, much more elegant this way.

 

The fact is, however, the true charm of your writing is that you force the reader to think. It's not a leisurely stroll down the literary road for you. Play to your strengths, ol' chum.

 

I think the work is too short. We could use a few more clues as to what's happening. The black fellow at the end confused me a tad. Once I thought about it, I understood.

 

Of course, your writing is a bit cluttered. Everything you've submitted to us here has been a bit cluttered, but I get the gist of it. At least I think I do. It doesn't matter, muddling through some confusion isn't a terrible thing. You just don't want it to get so confusing that folks can't follow you at all.

 

Mostly, your story is compelling because you obviously take such pleasure in telling it. This is where understanding the background gives us a little entertainment. I mean, you're writing about a place you've never been while working against a deadline. Good job. I'd've proabably just gotten drunk instead.

 

Finally, I don't know whether this is for a competition or a grade or what, but I hope it fulfils your needs. It seems to me that you've got a real talent. Keep plugging away at it and remember, when you hit it big, you're going to buy a round for us!

 

:Eldar's slapping Baley on the back and offering him a legal beverage of his choice icon:

[Baley]

1. Oh dear, I suppose I do that (the rule of 3s) unconsciously.

 

2. Thanks. I've changed it.

 

3. I've asked a few people about it. None realized that Iain was the dead guy. Only one understood that he was not the narrator. I'm afraid he's a pretty big part of the, hmm, setting, yeah. In a way he's the quintessential drifter.

 

This should gratify both sides:

 

There was this great crash site, a ford, completely wasted, fragments, blood, remains, everywhere. I couldn't breath. The smell was intoxicating. All of a sudden, my head, couldn't trust my head, staring at absolutely nothing in particular, not blind, not deaf, just not 100% there. Oh God. Oh God. Realization. A man, he laid there, wasn't moving, wasn't moving. I wanted to see his face. Wanted to see him so badly. I approached his body. No sparkle in his eyes, no movement in his chest, just peace, a long dead peace. I wanted to talk to the man. Not cause I cared for him. Didn't even know him, just another drifter, like me, maybe that was it, self-centered to the very end. Maybe I just needed a beer or maybe I could just pretend it never happened. Just leave him there. There was something on the ground, a piece of paper with drawings on the sides, a napkin, words written on it. I read them. Bored me. Poor bastard. Decided on leaving him alone for a while. Could use some rest. Walked away. Notified the next town's police force, tanned old sheriff - weaselly buck-toothed deputy. Their problem now.

 

What do you think?

 

4. Thanks.

 

5. I agree. But I might have to read it aloud. And I think it gets its point across. Or lack of point depending on your perspective.'

 

6. Noted.

 

7. Don't worry. I sometimes get reasonably intoxicated before writing commences.

 

8. Social meeting might be a better term, not sure. Not for a grade. More for a diploma.

 

 

Natural Grapefruit juice would be good.