Invitation to the Autopsy: Specimen no. 5
A Developmental and Line Editorial Pass on story part by Justin Rosenthal
(illustration stolen from the internet and turned into a meme by myself, Emil Ottoman, Cult of the Rainbow Rat 2020 something, maybe?)
Welcome to the Autopsy
Preface/ I’m an editor. I’m bored. I like to share my knowledge and experience, and sometimes a neat story. It’s winter. I hate winter. I really, really hate this winter. I love reading. I love good writing. I love new voices. And I love to read new work. I also have a thing for seeing things other people haven’t, but it’s just a ME thing, probably. (Maybe? I’m not that special right?)
Every Monday I make a post in the morning. If you want an editorial Autopsy, notes, a looksie; send me your best, your worst, your dead ideas, your precious darling, your recently divorced five pages of prose, your furry porn fanfic at: emilottoman@gmail.com.
I now accept emails MONDAY THROUGH WEDNESDAY (I’m seeing a lot of the same faces, ante up kids, it’s not a thresher), at that email address. NOT IN COMMENTS, NOT IN DMs, not at any of my other email addresses, but only at emilottoman@gmail.com.
Include: AUTOPSY (all caps) & your SUBSTACK AT/COMMERCIAL AT (no shit, it’s also called that apparently) HANDLE IN ALL CAPS, in the SUBJECT LINE (please. For organization’s sake.)
Be bold. The worst that can happen is I can try to help. And I want to read your stories.
I WILL NEVER PAYWALL THESE POSTS! I AM DOING THIS FOR SUBSTACK, FOR THE WRITERS WHO SEND ME THEIR WORK IN GOOD FAITH, AND FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME!
As such since I will do this until the end of time or people stop sending them in.
Above is a link where if you don’t want to subscribe and pay money, you can tip me or buy me a coffee. (A tall black coffee at Starbucks has not been $2.65 since 2014, remember that.) My continual hellish crisis of living situation is well documented. Feel no need chip in because of that, please.
A rolling crises creates fatigue. I’d rather if people hired me to do work at this point.
I AM TAKING EDITORIAL CLIENTS!
INQUIRY BY EMAIL: PLEASE PUT “EDITORIAL INQUIRY” ALL CAPS IN THE SUBJECT LINE
SEND TO: EMILOTTOMAN@GMAIL.COM
I hate needing to say this but: I AM NOT A MAGIC CHEAP DATE. The line between my business and what I give for free on my Substack is STARK. I’m a professional. I charge a non-negotiable $125.00 USD reading fee for up to 2500 words to see IF WE WILL BE ABLE TO WORK TOGETHER. Look up industry standard rates for Developmental and line editing and then ask me for a quote. I am MID RANGE for price and services provided. It is an EXPENSIVE AND OFTEN LENGTHY PROCESS. I am also soft hearted, stupid, and willing to work with people.
But my reading fee really is non-negotiable.
However, I would love to work with you on anything to flash (cheap) to full length manuscript consulting and coaching at the line and developmental level! (not so cheap, but still cheaper than an MFA or someone trying to sell you a load of bullshit!)
When the crisis hit I lowered prices in blind panic, then it hit me: just because I’m in crisis I shouldn’t fish for clients and overload myself while underpaying myself. I know what my time is worth. I will be compensated at that rate if you approach me professionally. If anything, I SHOULD charge more, I’m halfway to homeless with a fiancée and an aging mother currently living in a toxic fucking apartment, and I’m really good at what I do. (apologies for the fire and brimstone, but this idea needs to be made CRYSTALLINE, CLEAR AS A GLACIAL LAKE, as in you can see right to the rocky fucking bottom)
(We didn’t get the apartment, back to the grind, kill your landlord)
Previous Autopsies I hope you enjoy them. There is a lot of work, a labor of love for the craft of writing in there for you to peruse, if you want it.
(Now 100% less embedded, so they take up less room!)
(Thank you all who have been on the slab, And thank you everyone who continues to support this project)
Fuck the bullshit, on with the show, take your seats in the theater, and raise the lights.
ON WITH THE SHOW. I PRESENT TO YOU. I PRAY YOU ENJOY. I HOPE YOU TAKE SOMETHING OF VALUE FROM IT
THE AUTOPSY
A small cadre of faithful who will eventually get autopsied are sending in entries to be carved on the stab. Your time will come, it’s just not now. This week held yet more new faces, but I sense a reticence on behalf of some people. Plans are in the works. I want a broader cross section. Last week was much tougher to choose than this week.
This week is my first, (and potentially only) nepo autopsy. I know Justin Rosenthal. He is a friend to me. He’s family. His story is complex, but needless to say I spent several holidays (including a lovely Thanksgiving) at his family’s house. I was trying to do good. See, Justin died, and he needed help at home after he recovered enough they shunted him out the back doors. So I went. And I stayed as long as I could. He was the person who witnessed me experiencing the realtime death of my best friend 17 hours away.
He’s a talented writer off the blocks. He has vast potential. He is a poet. He runs my meme page and keeps the dream alive since I’ve mostly abandoned Facebook. He is, in other words, someone I care very deeply about. I’ve been encouraging him to get back into writing fiction for years.
Knowing him as a friend, and being close to him, knowing he HAS abilities, skills, and talent with the written word, if anything, I’m going to be much harder on him than I usually have been in the Autopsies.
The experimental stage of the Weekly Autopsies is over. I will be moving to more complex editorial passes (theoretically) it will be harder than the first month. I hope that you continue to take what you can or find something you need in them.
Anyway, Justin honestly deserves this. He died, he kept almost being dead for years, he’s now recovering. My job is to keep him honest.
This piece of story comes in at six pages and 2,844 words. It is in close third POV, past tense, and yes, I’ve read parts of the story in other iterations before.
But this is the autopsy room.
Tools in hand, we will begin.
Justin, I love you, you said you regret nothing when I picked you. When you’re done reading this (I’ll email you a copy too) please, continue regretting nothing. My advice is the same as it always is. If this is a longer piece, feel free to read my notes, take something from them if you want, but finish the draft. Without a draft, you have nothing. You’ll fuck with this until you kill it. Finish, the fucking, draft.
OK.
This has the most out of any notes so far on an autopsy. Some of them are extensive, some of them are just cut. You have an amazing ear for dialogue. This is obviously part of what would be a novel, or novella length work. The pacing is not that of a short story.
What’s more, some things need to be gone over thoroughly, some actions can happen off scene, and sometimes he can just close the door. A hallmark I see of early stage writers trying to find their literary voice is over explanation of detail of sequence of action. You have to justify that. By the end of this we are somewhere, the beginning of somewhere. Your average chapter length is around 2-2500 words in a contemporary novel. It took me a moment to get into the mode of the manuscript, but I still think there’s room in here for some paring down and improvement. Candy is so far the most interesting character, I think possibly by design. The Protagonist hasn’t been explored yet nearly at all. I know you have to have at least a contour of this story in your head. But the pacing drags.
Rough heuristic, about 25% of a novel is the opening/inciting incident/ whatever, about 50% of the novel is the meat, how we get where we’re going, how we solve the problem, how we get to the point where we can… something. Buncha shit happens in the middle. And in general averaged out across all novels about the last 25% will be the climax, end, denouement, solving the puzzle, setting up the sequel.
Your tone is cold and formal, but overly so. A little goes a long way. Some sequences of actions are explained to death. And some of your adverbs are just shortcuts to bypass writing something you have readily accessible shortcut for. I see potential. You’ve got good command of the language, banger dialogue, some amazing detailing, but this is something that’s like, 70k words in the making. Or a novella. Somewhere around 200 pages maybe. But then you’d have to move it along a little faster.
This is a solid but unsteady return to writing. Shake the rust off. Ignore these notes and don’t get bogged down in fixing what you’ve written. Move forward. This deserves a draft. I want to know MORE about these characters. (and their fucked up dynamic.) But you may consider rejiggering the beginning. It’s a slow burn with no hook at the front. You have to read into this piece to find any meat. In any market, that’s hard to work with. I’m not saying is ideal or how I’d like it, I’m just saying that’s publishing. And if it were a genre I’m having trouble placing it between psychological thriller, horror, and aspirational lit fic.
Anyone who’s read any of my autopsies so far, this one probably has the best examples of realistic character interactions and dialogue, to be honest. And that’s not against anyone I’ve ran across the table, it’s that I know Justin has been writing a LONG time. He’s just never gone all in.
Go in or don’t. But now that you’ve officially chosen life, shit or get off the pot. It’s a lifelong endeavor and you have a knack for it, you just haven’t closed in a while.
Good start. Many issues. Want to read more.
I hope you laugh at some of my snark. Thanks for volunteering for the slab. I went hard on you because I love ya.
Anyone else who reads this in the morning, thanks for your support, and I hope you get something out of the Autopsies. And if you like ‘em enough, I mean, you can pay me for this service as well. But I’m not going to stop doing them.
Show’s over, go home.
Emil Ottoman The Editor (02:26am)
THE TEXT
Story Part/Work in Progress
Reggie1 listened to the storm pounding rain sideways across his roof, against his windows.2 As3 he stared at the feed from the front door camera4, the sound of the rain mingled with the thundering of blood in his temples.5 Ten seconds that took ten minutes and he could hear Dimitri whine and bark at the fist pounding on the door.6
He slid his cell into his pocket, crossed from the kitchen to the front door and called Dimitri to heel and quiet with a wave and a point.7 Dimitri whined but otherwise complied.8
Reggie slid the deadbolts and threw the lock open.9 A sigh turned into a deep breath and concluded in a grunt as his jaw tightened up again.10 He opened the door and, of course, she was standing there.11
Even soaking wet and shivering in the rain, she towered over him with her boots and black dreadlocks piled high.12 Her soaking13-wet, shivering figure towered over him, black dreadlocks piled high on her head14, her height given a little extra help in the form of big ass boots Arms crossed, posture permanently defensive.15
"Reginald," she half-glowered through chattering teeth.16
"Candace," he responded17 flatly18. He stared.They both did. It wasn't long, a mutual mid sizing up.19
"Are you going to let me in?" she didn’t ask so much as she stated it as a formality, 20pushing21 past him. She stopped only to lean in and rub Dimitri’s eager face, hardly able to restrain his own excitement to see her.22 Reggie took note of the ancient Ford Bronco sitting in his driveway before gently closing the door and doing the work of relocking it.23
"Imagine my surprise, when one of the three people from the last three decades of my life, on the entire planet, who knows where I am shows up on my front doorstep," he turned to face her, to try to read anything at all from her vibrating poker face.24
"Is that bad?"
"Is it ‘bad’? How long did you drive to get here? Did you drive here nonstop? Whose Bronco is that?"25
"36 hours and yes. That beard looks really good on you."26
"Candace," Reggie’s eyes cycled closed and his hand instinctively went up to stroke his left eyebrow.27 "Is there something for me in that car?."28
"Surprise?"
Reggie finally allowed himself to let out the sigh that had been building in his chest.29 He opened his eyes and stared at her again.30 Glistening, the hairs growing back on the right side of her head clung damp to her face.31 Dimitri circled her feet affectionately, getting himself soaked in the process.32
"Follow me."33 He stalked past her, Dimitri leapt in excitement.34 Her posture relaxed, if only for a moment, and she followed him to the bathroom.35 "Take a shower. The towels are in here," He pointed closest to the door.36 "There should be new whatever under the sink. Help yourself to whatever in the medicine cabinet. It's been a long day. You should be able to find the bedroom on your own. There's a wooden basket full of shit you never took back in the closet on a top shelf."37
"You kept my things." It wasn’t a question.38
"Shut the fuck up." He glared. "Now give me the fucking keys so I can move that piece of shit into the garage."39
She threw the keys and he caught them as they bounced off of his chest. "Dimitri, stay." He could not escape that feeling in his chest as he grabbed a coat and the garage door slid itself open.40
A fucking Ford Bronco, he thought to himself.41 How utterly iconic for conspiratorial mistakes.42 He glared at the handle of the oxidizing relic. The mechanisms of the door squealed and creaked as their age warranted when he swung it open and he was hit with the smell of drying blood and human waste. He manually rolled the window down so he could make it from the driveway into the garage inside the literal rusting shitbox.43
Once the garage door thudded closed, in the bright white lights Reggie finally opened the hatch and had to catch himself from smiling.44
"Oh boy."
*
"Sorry, Dimi," Candy said as she parked the old45 german shepherd46 outside of the bathroom door and closed it.47 She leaned against the wall and pulled off her wet boots and socks. "This is how I get fucking trench foot," She mumbled, spreading her aching toes.48
The black marble pulled49 what50 little heat was left51 in her so she migrated to the plush rug in front of the sink, her hoody and undershirt yanked from her body with a sucking sound and landed wetly on the tile.52 Standing in front of the mirror she had a second to check out the bathroom. "Ugh."53
It was a thing he would have. Spacious with a minimal aesthetic, black and sterile barren of anything not useful to the doing. 54"There's nothing in here alive but me."55 she said quietly56 aloud57 so the voice inside her own58 head could echo back59
"That's sort of the point idiot." her fathers voice rattled momentarily60 inside her61 and she pulled at her face with both hands, groaning.62
“Stop.” She said quietly staring into herself in the mirror.63 She slapped her own shivering face, vibrating out of her skin.64 “Stop.” She repeated, quieter, the slap that followed filling the bathroom before the compressor on the air conditioning hummed to life.65 She white knuckled66 the edge of the sink with both hands and did that bullshit breathing thing her overpriced idiot Los Angeles therapist told her to do that never fucking worked. 67“Does this bullshit-mechanic have anything that will repair my fucking life.”68 She exhaled pulling the medicine cabinet open so she didn’t have to see herself anymore. “Oh this fucking unbelievable dork.”69
Reggies medicine cabinet contained six black jars with printed white labels: Head, Lust, Sadness, Nothing, Mood and XXX70. Her left hand did a once over of the jars before just grabbing the one labeled nothing. No, she decided, I don't care what he’s doing. I just want to be nothing.71
The weight and way things shifted when she picked up the jar confirmed to her what its contents were before she unscrewed the lid. “Just one.” She said to herself filling the glass on the sink top with water. “I’m dehydrated and have not eaten in 24 hours what could possibly go wrong.” She laughed, only for a second, but the adrenaline was wearing off now that she was out of the car and the cold and cramping was starting to set in. She swallowed the xanax in a gulp of water and opened the heavy glass door on the shower.72
The water was immediately blessedly warm and Candy couldn't be sure but she thought the tile in the floor of the shower had to be heated as feeling was restored to her lower limbs. She scrubbed at her face with her hands and tugged at what remained of her left ear. Her shoulders relaxed and she watched the dried blood in her hair stain the water pink as it circled the drain. Her annoyance at her hair still bleeding into the water grew as the warmth in her body did. The thick black towels hid the stains but couldn’t assuage her annoyance. She opened the cabinet beneath Reggies sink and grinned at exactly what she knew she would find.73
*
“Oh good you’re awake.” Reggie said to the man hogtied on the stainless steel table in his basement.74 “You’ve got to be so confused about where you are. Been a long couple of days for you huh? I know the back of those old Broncos are huge but between the ancient suspension and being unable to move, well.”75 Reggie noisily76 pulled a stool over and sat by the man’s head looking into his gagged face.77 “I took the liberty of digging through your wallet James Rickson. Your parents really named you James Rick? God no one should be allowed to have children.”78 He patted James on the cheek and smiled. “Do You mind if I smoke a joint James? A lot just got dropped in my lap.” James shook his head no. “Yeah I gave you a pretty hefty dose of ketamine through that IV I put in your arm while you were unconscious. You should be pretty comfortable by now.79
James was trying to reconnect his brain with his body to panic but it just wasn’t happening.80 The slight, older man in front of him pulled a bright white joint and lighter from a golden case. The flame painted shadows across his bearded face in the darkness as he lit it.81 He inhaled deeply, blowing a cloud of sour smoke around James' face.82
“So usually this is one of the fun parts of what I do in my spare time. I get to tell people that I am going to eat them before I kill them, you know? They get a look in their eyes, they beg, they bargain. I laugh hah hah hah. This is a thing that relieves stress for me right? That's why I do it by myself now, but here she is, complicating things.”83 He took another long drag of the joint. “Now I have to keep you here alive tonight so things are fresh for tomorrow along with rushing to put together a menu.” 84He sighed and laughed.85 “Men, anything to not get therapy right?”86 He extinguished the joint on the table next to James’ face and stood up.87
“I’m gonna put you to sleep now James and be a good host for my other guest.” Reggie crossed to a table grabbing a syringe he had already filled. James grunted as Reggie unscrewed the needle and connected the syringe to James’ IV. Reggie pulled the rough gag from James’ mouth. “Famous last words?”88
James’ mouth made several motions before producing sound.89 “You’re going to eat me? Like Hannibal?”
Reggies smile widened as he depressed the plunger on the syringe. “No James, Hannibal is a doctor. I am a butcher. This is going to be very messy. See you tomorrow.”90
*
Warm inside and out Candy admired her scalp in the mirror. She could feel herself fading as she rubbed the soft fuzz that remained. She rinsed her head one last time in the sink, disregarding the remains of her dreadlocks hampering the drain. Tonight is for me, tomorrow is for someone else, nudged the rat in her brain, and she nodded in agreement.91
She put her hand on the bedroom door frame half to feel the dark wood and half to have something to lean on.92 “How does this psychopath still not have any art where he fucking lives.”93 The bed and frame dominated the mostly94 empty room. The thought filled her that if she were to lay down it would be over and would that be so bad?95 Naked on Reggies bed? “Yes,” she scowled. “Yes it would '', and crossed to the closest to clothe herself.96
She thought it might be rude rubbing her naked body on his clothes but decided she didn't give a shit, leaning heavily against his hanging garments as she stretched to reach the wooden basket.97
“Of course you kept the shirt I was stabbed in.98” she huffed pulling the red Stone Temple Pilots shirt over her head onto her body. She stuck her fingers through the hole at the hem of the t-shirt. “Loved this fucking shirt.” She slurred, crouching to rifle through the rest of the99 baskets100 contents: A pair of shorts, A hoodie, sweatpants, a pair of underwear she didn't remember forgetting, three pairs of socks, black leggings, a Glock 43 with no magazine101, four black rings she used to wear on her right hand and 12 polaroids from 20 years ago of the two of them doing the things you do in the backseat of a car before you wind up getting arrested in the backseat of a car.102
She slid the rings on to each of her fingers without thinking about it, each one finding its place. She stretched her fingers out in a claw, admiring her own hand. She snatched the polaroids up, a messy pile in her newly adorned hand and forded the waves of benzodiazepine to flop face first onto the king size bed. She writhed, messily nesting comforters and pillows around her. Deep breaths Candy, if you close your eyes that's the end, the rat in her head chided her, where's the fun if you close your eyes.103
She went to post up on her hands and knees and wound up collapsing sideways into the headboard hard. Groaning, still clutching the polaroids in her hand she struggled towards the lamp on the nightstand. She put the polaroids down on the wooden tabletop and reached for the switch.104
But her hand lingered as she took another very deliberate deep breath. The rat in her head gnawed105 hungrily106 at her amygdala and she put her hand back down on the polaroids. The mixture of exhaustion and dwindling nervous system sensitivity made all the colors of the polaroids more color-y. Did I ever look like this, she thought, how did I ever forget his face.107
The thought of herself as a spider spinning Reggie in a silken cocoon to store in a web for later was interrupted by him making himself known in the doorway.108
“Thank you for the present Candace.”109
She groaned and grabbed the nearest pillow, dropping the polaroids back on the nightstand.
“You know me, out on a business trip and thought wow Reggie would love this.”110
“I told you to put clothes on.” he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. She rolled back onto her side, facing him.
“You told me you had some of my things in your closet.” She stuck her fingers back through the hole in front of the tshirt. “You told me ‘take a shower’ “ she put some bass in her voice and imitated his serious tone rolling over onto her back. She looked at Reggie, extended her arm and pat the mattress twice. “Come sit with me.” She said.111
“No I don’t think I will.”112
Candy rose quickly to her knees, glaring at Reggie.113 Her face was no longer soft or panicked114. “You spending time with me is the least illegal thing either of us is doing tonight. I drove for over 40 hours across the goddamn country to be here.Bring your spooky ass over and sit on the bed with me.”115
He took his time closing the distance. He stood next to the bed and did not flinch when she leaned her left arm lazily against his chest. Her right hand extended, nails tangling softly in his beard.116
“This really does look good on you.” She slurred. “You look less like a cherub.” She laughed when he smiled. “There he is.” She beamed, her nails dug into his neck. She pulled his face towards hers. Her eyes closed117
“Candy.” He stopped her, pressing his forehead against hers. She pressed back, her teeth gnashed and he was sure he heard a growl.118
“What.”
“I just came here to get a pillow. I don't really have a guest room.” Her grip on his neck got tighter and she scoffed angrily. She did not bother opening her eyes.119
“Don’t you think we’re fucking past this.” Her left hand ran up his chest and grabbed the other part of his neck.120 Her lips reached for his again. This time he put a hand onto her shoulder and pushed. She did not take much to sprawl backwards across the bed.121
“There's a lot to do tomorrow and I need to shower again. You need to get some sleep before your brain dissolves.”122
“Don’t fucking tell me what I need,” She yelled. “Just fucking stay. I want you to stay just fucking stay.”He turned away from her and moved for the door. “Fine you fucking pervert creep,” She shouted after him. “You kept my fucking underwear? She hurled a pillow at his head. He picked it up after it bounced off of him and closed the bedroom door behind him.123
Candy screamed and punched herself in the jaw. She pulled a pillow over her face, unable to suffocate herself she screamed and hit herself again through the pillow. Tomorrow there would be a bruise..The rat in her head finally ran out of steam and her body and bones collapsed under the weight of exhaustion124
*
Dimitri lay where he was put outside of the bathroom because he is a good dog. The old german shepherd's ears remained alert but deep in his marrow all of this was familiar instead of alarming. 125He stared at Reggie rushing from the bedroom to the bathroom and when their eyes made contact Reggie could swear the dog rolled his fucking eyes.126
“Don’t.” Reggie pointed at Dimitri as he passed and slammed the bathroom door behind him. Dimitri didn’t even flinch. That's why Dimitri gets the best treats.127
We have a name followed by a very, and so a character. Opening in this way almost always implies one of two things , in media res (shit's goin' down), or contemplation of some sort. In this piece I would say that it's contemplation, as we're soon to learn Reggie is listening to a storm batter his house with torrential rain.
It's obvious that the thing pounding rain sideways is the storm, but some editors are picky about this sort of sentence structure. Pounding rain is a cliche phrase, it brings to mind a vague image, but one that can be refined with sensory details.
In close third we don't need to be WITH or over the shoulder of Reggie. We have full interiority, but we can walk away from him to make a larger point. I would suggest that this is a weak open.
The potential is there (It was a dark and stormy night, plays on that.) And I like that there is an immediate connection made here. Notice the wording.
Against his windows, across his roof. (suggest that this is backwards. Rephrase or add a precise verb to go along with against. Wordhippo. The author's secret weapon. There, that's fifty bucks worth of self editing for free.)
Using as for a conjunctive sentence start is a weird flex for the second sentence, especially in contrast with the first sentence. Consider the intent of the scene.
Why did you choose to write it this way?
Visual sensory details of some kind. I would like one, but if this is a horse sentence, it doesn't need one. (A horse sentence just sorta does it's job. They don't have to be pretty, or perfect, but they pull things forward.) I would however suggest that using one so early in the first para is going to lose some attention immediately.
Suggest thundering of blood in his temples is bordering cliche in phrasing. Suggest that if you're going to go with thundering, exmphasize the sound of the rain more as being a solid force hitting the house. For emphasizing this I would make it clear that the rain is exceptionally loud, and even above that, he can hear the throbbing blood running through his temples. Be exact.
This sentence starts with a metaphor that isn't clearly defined as a metaphor. I'm almos always going to suggest getting rid of "that" especially to open a sentence. There's a better metaphor here waiting for you to write it.
Dmitri is obviously a puppers.
Good boy, have a treat.
However there is one very large nit that I have to pick here. You have presented a situation (Open with weather, I don't give a fuck, just do it well.) You've established that there is a man named Reggie, he has a dog named Dmitri, and he's watching someone presumably park, and take a long time doing it, in his front yard.
Things have been presented, but this is vague enough for me to be annoyed in an "I've read slush, get to the point" way. By the time it gets to the fist pounding on the door, you're losing them.
Vague or florid artifice for its own sake this early in what's obviously going to be a narrative story isn't what I want. Get to a point, get to it fast.
Siggest first sentence reggie and rain desc watching a vehicle struggle park in his driveway, sentence two intro banging on door and possible second char. as Reggie is frustrated, moving him and having the rain not be louder than his blood would be an effective move, introducing the second character while Reggie is moving to the door from wherever introduced the dog. You can also use ths sequence of action to clip the awkward ten minutes ten seconds metaphor for use later or discarding, because where it is now, it's a flat note.
OR
Do you start with the pounding and go backwards? Another option, this frontloads a crisis or questions or action of some sort instead of backloading it in narrative.
Just a thought. Suggest rewrite.
If watching front cameras from mobile, make a point of it. A lot of people still think of static banks of monitors when they think of a security feed.
Good sequence of action. I'd tighten it up or add a place detail or two, but it works. Nice detail on the silent commands for the dog.
Suggest recomp. "But otherwise complied" reads as awkward. If you're going to have Dmitri whine, maybe give him another visual. This is ____ dog?
Deadbolts are turned. A vertical deadbolt is to resist jimmying and that would be slid. You cannot slide a deadbolt, by definition. Throwing the lock open is a little on the melodramatic side.
Starting a sentence with an indefinite article is not ideal in most cases. Here I would Have Reggie own the sigh (you're still establishing authority, you have to convince me that you're fucking this pig, indefinite articles don't do that.) and then straighten the sequence of action from sigh to grunt, excluding or replacing "concluded" unless overly formal is what you're going for here, but so far there is no voice to the character in close third to justify it.
Jaw tightened works, but anyone can say it that way. Say it your way. Because that is bordering on cliche.
A mysterious woman who apparently is known to Reggie, as the italics point out.
The sentence works the same with or without the italics. By referencing the woman simply as "she" the point is made. You're doubling up by italicizing it, but that's not something I'd agonize over.
Reggie is a short king. This took me as a shock. Suggest "in" her boots and "black dreadlocks piled high on her head" or similar. The sentence works.
soaking and soaking, close echo, lose one.
I JUST SAID THIS, is there reverb in here? Ok, cut the repeat, pick one.
The passive verb structuring here is killing something for me from her height given onwards. "in the form of" cut for something more precise. "in those thick soled Ratty Surplus Paratrooper boots" et al. (See my million ways to fuck a chicken theory.)
Keep "arms crossed, posture permanently defensive" but maybe give one more detail about her posture. Crossed arms is a defensive posture, but is she shrunk, is she straight backed, is her stance wide? One more detail or two nails this description.
Unique dialogue tags, I'd suggest using sparingly and with purpose. This is NOT a dialogue tag in technicality as glowering is a facial posture or way someone looks, but many readers DO NOT know the real definition of the word. It is also implied as a dialogue tag directly after with "through chattering teeth" consider recontextualizing this sentence.
Best dialogue tags are almost always "said" they subvocalize, they are barely noticed, they're just there. Responded has a formal air to it. I could see this, but Reginald is NOT established enough in voice yet in close third.
cut. This signifies something. What does it signify. does he have no affect? Is he supposed to be annoyed?
This is awkwardly written in total. Rewrite. The idea is solid, the execution is off. (Where does mid come from though?)
Cut "So much as"
this gerund reads oddly without a connection of the sequence of actions.
"Stopped only" is backwards grammatically. I'd suggest some detailing on the interaction with the dog humanize the bitch a second, but if this is what you're going for, go for it. As a reader and editor, with the sequence of action, declarative clause, and gerund in a complex sentence, I'm not in love of it.
Using extra words. Economy of words. If the Bronco is ancient give me sensory details, visual, please. Rust, color? Wodden side panels? Broken window? Dent? Something. One or two details anywhere precisely placed drives home more than some whole paragraphs.
Gently can go. "Doing the work of relocking it" trim the fat. Are the words there because they sound good or are they there pushing the movement. Doesn't read bad as a sentence, but seems out of place with what comes before.
Good dialogue. Expressing exasperation without explicitly stating it, excellent. Note: It was not said where she was pushing past too, so him turning to face her loses sense of place in scene.
You have a knack for dialogue.
Give her some business here maybe. This is the only sentence in the exchange that I would give business. (Like on a movie set)
I like cycled closed, but I don't vibe with instinctively, otherwise good.
Ohh, presents.
He's talked multiple times, the sigh was building the whole time, put some more oomph in it. Cut "that" Google glue words.
This is meant to build some sort of interpersonal tension. The sentence control suggests it. It doesn't work any better than the tension already brewing, condense into previous sentence.
Does she have dreadlocks or, is half her head shaved? Under shave? A lack of earlier precision in description leads to confusion here. glistening is generally overused but eh.
"affectionately" give me one show instead of one tell. You can cut "in the process", junk words.
Yeet
Reggie should be named, background the dog, lotta action on the dog, we get it, the dog likes the chick
Her posture is vague, you're in close third, you've got full interiority on Reggie AND full eyes on anything in the room. And what about her posture relaxed. This is a good show but a bad tell. (And yes, showing and telling both have their places, but I suggest telling is not here)
To what closest to the door. Is this a guest bathroom? Sense of place is thready.
Still great dialogue. But what’s the purpose of it, what’s it moving in the story?
Good. I expect a payoff on this standing alone later.
Glared works. I'd prefer otherwise but in the middle of speech like this, it works.
You can cut some action. Not everything needs to be in scene. How is this propelling the story? Does this or that detail need to be there? First sentence lands with a thud. Rewrite. But also, does all this action need to be on page, or are we filling word count?
A lot of writers do that and don't realize it, especially on first drafts. And it happens a lot early in stories where you're juiced and everything the character does seems super important. It's not. Sometimes a dude just moved a Bronco into a garage.
This is a redundancy, avoid them. He's thinking, it's automatically to himself, no one can hear him but himself.
Keep this, lose thought tags. This is establishing authority. You're meaning to get to the point where you have the reader ready to get emotionally dog walked through the story, you're not there yet. Establish ideally in para 1-3.
glare and glared, close echo, cut one
Condense, this fucks the flow and slows down the action.
Condense that so you get here faster.
You use finally 3 times in six pages. Cut all of them.
telegraphing a reveal but doing it in an okay way aside from everything mentioned above
Candy, nice. We've gone informal and switched voices and perspectives. Close third past on Candy.
Move this to the first page.
One place I would advise possibly using a gerund for "closing it" or rewrite the sentence.
Decent. Could tighten up but barely.
suggest pulled out, or sapped, or another word
cut and replace.
I like this. Rewrite everything around it.
Shorten sequence of action a little. WETLY!? FUCKING WETLY!? -77 points. Red flag. Penalty on the play. You're better than this. Write up to the level of this story, not down to the floor wetly.
I would suggest shortening this sentence.
"to the doing" is interesting phrasing. This isn't that bad, but the dynamic between these two characters is still not clear. You're not getting to the point. Move it along. But I like this moment. Cut out as much glue as you can.
This is a one sentence para.
cut
cut (You see why these two cuts, right?)
this is a redundancy, cut. Her own head. Like the one I pointed out above.
Condense. But I like the vibe. She said out loud so the voice in her head could echo back to her, or who's going chicken fuckin' et al.
Cut. Imprecision. Or just cut, it fucks up the sentence
close echo, you can find a way to fix it
I like this whole sequence but it has too many close echoes, her, her, she, her, she. Some of them need reworking. Inspect the sentence, it says a good thing. It's a great moment. Put more intention into writing it with precision and economy of words, or maximalism, but this sounds like much more of the amateur then I know you are as a writer.
whispered at the mirror. She her issues. Good moment
Good action, vibrating out of her skin is cliche.
I'm almost always going to say there's a better thing than that when you're using that unless that absolutely has to be there. Does it? I like the scene temp ending with the AC compressor kicking on. Hummed to life, more cliche. Think of everything you've ever heard that's a stock phrase, or the like, ok, now start to take them out behind a shed and shoot them, and leave them out of as much of your writing as possible. Use extremely sparingly.
cliche.
This is great though.
I'm assuming she's saying this. Everyone else probably will too, this is a very her centric scene.
ompress action sequence here, love the last line.
Interesting detailing but Reggie's should be possessive and we're still in flavor, there is no story to the story aside from she shows up, they have history, she's crazy, there's something in the back of the Bronco that's a treat for him. Move it along. Your prose style isn't up to fucking around this long yet. It COULD BE, and it may be if you work at it, but not yet
Don't need the once over. Good vibes. I just want to be nothing. Great.
Condense, prose styling is dragging. Great parts, connective tissue is damaged. *tap water
Condense, this is a lotta work to say what it says. Heavy on style, but low on substance and movement.
Consider separating Oh good you're awake from the rest of the sentence and rewriting from authoritative view.
Great dialogue.
Fuck you.
But the rest of it is basically good. But noisily? Really?
Excellent.
Ok, see, this is the sort of scene I would zoom on. Actually, you're thinking maybe too linear. Remember, you're the master of time. Why does THIS scene have to be AFTER everything with Candy? As cut ins it would be really fucked up.
Words to eliminate, Just. You've been through this, go deep on it if you're gonna bother with it.
Good sentence.
Cut the gerund, makes it seem like he's inhaling deep and blowing at the same time
Do you see how this could work as effective cut ins with the Candy scene? I think it would carry more weight, honestly.
Very good.
Cut the sigh, keep the laugh. Personal opinion. Too much for this spot.
This should be a cut spot, I swear, it's too perfect.
tighten action and condense.
I like it but after "Men, anything not to get therapy right?" it don't hit. That was your hitta.
show motion, don't report motion, this man just got told he's cold cuts, a coursing menu, Jesus. Give him something.
I love this line. But I'm still torn over the therapy one up there. This doesn't even hit as hard as that. Consider parts of these paras are all in the wrong places. Because they feel like it. Your closer is "men, anything not to get therapy, right?" I'm telling you. That's THE sentence of this scene.
Show the dreads being cut or mention it more distinctly. The rat, I like the rat, but I'd intro the rat way earlier. The rat is an effective way to get rid of thought tags.
Is the description of this action important? If not, just have her lean on it and feel the dark wood. It's cluttered. There's a lot of clutter and great moments but very little movement or momentum in this piece. You need some movement. I love the potential, I do not like the clutter.
Consider voice, this sounded out of what I imagine her saying? Don't ask me why
If mostly empty what few things are there? vague and imprecise abstract language. I'm mostly awake right now.
carpet? Windows?
Rephrase. But you're on the right track here. Still some clutter in the prose. But I attribute this to rust.
OK, but there's no real reason why yet? Everything is obscurantist and telegraphed so far. Move along.
Say this, but in less words.
And that's outta nowhere.
love this but something about it screams of clutter. Does it need to be? Give it more reason to be, or cut it down some.
possessive.
cut "basket's contents" replace "basket" then just list it.
I like it all, you have style but you're lacking narrative control or direction. This lingers when it should move. Is how it feels.
Love the rat, frontload the rat. Condense this down. Cut as much as you can while keeping your voice and showing the action, or, why does this need to be here, or what's important, what is MOST important. Boil the scene.
You're dragging, but you're dragging with style.
DO YOU HAVE TO, DO YOU HAVE TO LET IT LINGER?
cut
Great detailing, great, there's a lot of great stuff here, but as a reader there is a component of the story that is losing me somehow. You've revealed the butcher. Now we have the chick just, going on.
rephrase. Good imagery though.
Nice.
Love it
Excellent interaction.
I read this in Johnny Cash's voice.
No more quickly no more glaring!
cut, telegraphs something you get great in the dialogue.
Again, GREAT DIALOGUE
The pacing is so off in some fundamental way. It's just. There's so much good and so much uneven here
Great.
There, we have some fire.
angrily again.
What other part of his neck? The neckier part?
Rewrite for sequence of action. Reportage "She did not take much" Show this.
DUN DUN DUN
I mean, I get it, it's a slow burn, it's psychological, this can work, but some of it is just clutter I feel like. Some stylistic fluourishes that don't come off how you want, but you know how you want them to come off in your head. Happens to everyone, but this whole scene is starting to drag out.
Condense, keep the action.
POV, on... the dog? Aight. I don't know if it works or fits, but OK.
Close echo, eyes end rolled his fucking eyes. But good conceptually.
Close echo, eyes end rolled his fucking eyes. But good conceptually.
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You pretty much confirmed everything I had been thinking about this already and corrected a bunch of technical stuff I appear to just have forgotten.
10/10 no regrets
This actually started as a much smaller idea and got reworked into something bigger.
I'm gonna fix the technical stuff for now and take some notes on rewrites while I work on finishing things.
excited to dig into this