[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character

Tue Sep 8 04:03:12 UTC 2009

Instead of cold and clammy, his hands could shake a bit.  This is a sign of 
nervousness but doesn't conjure up a negative image.  Judith
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Shelley J. Alongi" <qobells at roadrunner.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Monday, September 07, 2009 11:37 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character


> Barbara, thanks for responding to this. I didn't think about the cold 
> clammy hands being a turnoff. I meant to show Glen was nervous. As we go 
> through the story we'll learn more about his life through scars on his 
> hands; hands are very important. I'll think of something and if anyone has 
> any suggestions let me know. Tormented and physical, good observations. 
> Why does Judy put him off before he tells what's bothering him? She 
> explains it in the next lines. But I should indicate that she understands 
> he can't tell her everything right then it's so painful. Don't worry; he 
> tells her. I'll work on these details.
> Shelley J. Alongi
> Home Office: (714)869-3207
> **
> NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>
> **
> To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
> Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
> http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>
> updated July 2, 2009
> ----- Original Message ----- 
> From: "Barbara Hammel" <poetlori8 at msn.com>
> To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> Sent: Monday, September 07, 2009 1:30 PM
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
>
>
>> Personally, I got turned off by the cold, clammy hands.
>> He seems like a tormented man.  He strikes me as the type who is willing 
>> to face unpleasantness because he's willing to divulge a secret from his 
>> past. Not all people would do that.
>> He's a physical man, he likes to touch.  But why did she put him off just 
>> as he was about to tell her what he wanted to say?
>> Now I want to know what mystery his past holds.
>> Barbara
>>
>> If wisdom's ways you wisely seek, five things observe with care:  of whom 
>> you speak, to whom you speak, and how and when and where.
>>
>> --------------------------------------------------
>> From: "Shelley J. Alongi" <qobells at roadrunner.com>
>> Sent: Thursday, September 03, 2009 11:46 PM
>> To: "NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>> Subject: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
>>
>>> Hi Guys, If anyone is up for it I have an exercise for you. I want to 
>>> see how much of Glen's character is revealed in the first chapter to see 
>>> if it lines up with who I think he is. If you're up for this, read the 
>>> first chapter and tell me what you learn about Glen Streicher, 
>>> physically, emotionally, or anything else you notice about him. I've 
>>> been workign with him so long I'd like to see what others think.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Flirting with Monday
>>>
>>> Book One
>>>
>>> Chapter 1
>>>
>>> I sat with Judy Flower on the planter perpendicular to the railroad 
>>> tracks, they stretched out silvery in the EARLY AFTERNOON, empty, 
>>> nothing in sight. Then I spied the lights of an approaching freight, it 
>>> flew through the station, the sound surrounding us, the long rectangular 
>>> cars sliding past, squeaking, groaning, clattering, gliding along the 
>>> rails effortlessly. There was Fred, the lights winked, flirting with me. 
>>> The freight clattered off into the distance and it suddenly grew quiet, 
>>> I moved next to Judy. She sat silently. I reached out with both hands, 
>>> grasped her slender one, held it in mine, curled her hand into my palm, 
>>> lay my fingers across it.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Judy," I whispered. "Look at me."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> There was something about a train that could melt my defenses, if only 
>>> one layer at a time. I held her hand as if it might be a lifeline.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Judy," I said, her eyes fastened to mine, "I was hurt a long time ago. 
>>> Twenty years ago, before I was hired to work for the railroads. A girl; 
>>> we were going to get married; I showed up at the wedding, she wasn't 
>>> there. The day after that I got my letter saying I was hired by the 
>>> Union Pacific and I left and never saw her again. Never."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I stopped. I couldn't say anymore. She laid her left hand across my 
>>> cold, clammy hands and rested them on her lap. Her hand caressed a long, 
>>> ragged cut along the top of my left hand.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Hush, Glen," she said patiently. "Just hush. No more."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "After all this time," I whispered through the starting of my tears, 
>>> "after telling me I can't face this now you don't want to hear it?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I didn't want to tell her any more of the story. The layers I had 
>>> cocooned it in had been ripped away, the wounds fresh and stinging. The 
>>> rest of the story was so painful, it made me sick to my stomach. Even 
>>> mentioning Elizabeth caused cold sweat to pop out on my forehead.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "It isn't that I don't want to hear it," she explained quietly as my 
>>> tears started to fall. "It's that you can't tell me the rest right now. 
>>> I want you to face this I don't want to break your heart. But you have 
>>> to face it, Glen. I'll help you. You know that.""
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> She caressed my hand, she laid it on my knee, her warm fingers tracing 
>>> down my wrist, outlining my nails. She twisted the simple gold class 
>>> ring on my finger, the symbol of the one thing we had done together 
>>> before we knew it.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> We watched another train approach. I caught my breath in great, heaving 
>>> sobs. Gently removing Judy's hands from mine, covering my face, I leaned 
>>> forward, choking on painful tears, unable to stop them. They were 
>>> drowned out by the engine and the noise of the cars.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Judy moved close to me, leaning her head on my arm, cuddling up like a 
>>> comforting presence, saying nothing. The last of the train swept by, 
>>> engines behind it pushing the cars forward, and then all grew quiet. I 
>>> eased my hands away from my eyes and pulled Judy close to me, holding 
>>> her almost desperately, my tears dripping onto her shoulder, my head 
>>> resting there. I kissed her.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I'm sorry," I choked. "You are right. I have to face this. I can't lose 
>>> you." I couldn't speak anymore. Moments passed.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "There's a green light," she told me. "I can see another train." Judy 
>>> kissed my cheek, tasted my salty tears, sat their quietly.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Glen," she soothed, "Just remember I'm not going to leave you. You came 
>>> back to me. You want to do this. I promise you I'm here now." She turned 
>>> her head and looked into my blue, streaming eyes, wresting my attention. 
>>> "Sweet Glen, after all this time, do you finally believe me?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Her face questioned me, I touched her cheek with my fingers and nodded.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "You're sure?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I'm sure," I whispered. "Finally."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "glen," she said gently, "I love you. I loved you the moment I saw your 
>>> face in that window, the moment you waved at us through that window, and 
>>> I waved back and then I came and said hello and you smiled and said 
>>> hello back. I'll take you with all your baggage. I've been around long 
>>> enough to know that all of us have baggage."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Judy laid a cool hand across my hot cheek, gently eased the tears away. 
>>> She laid her head against my neck. I was glad when the third train came 
>>> through, blazing past us in a roaring spasm of sound and wind. The wind 
>>> blew Judy's golden curly hair across her face. I lifted my left hand to 
>>> touch it. My fingers caressed her hair, soft and staticky, the sensation 
>>> sending electricity through me. Quickly, I dropped my hand.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> We sat quietly as the train moved away from the station. The horn at the 
>>> next intersection came to us, haunting and comforting and healing and 
>>> disturbing. My tears kept falling. Judy looked off into the distance. 
>>> She sat back against me, her body giving me strength for my painful 
>>> journey. This had been a long time coming and now she focused her full 
>>> attention on me, the trains and the afternoon breeze forgotten. Moments 
>>> passed and she turned, easing herself off my knees, taking my left hand, 
>>> holding it quietly, rubbing my wrist. I sat there meekly, spent, knowing 
>>> Judy was right. It was time. It was time to rip away the last of the 
>>> defenses and get on with my life. Judy had been patiently waiting.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "What was her name?" she asked quietly, reaching out to touch me, giving 
>>> me permission not to answer the question. She put her head on my chest, 
>>> looking up at me. Her look made me want to at least tell her part of the 
>>> story.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Her name was Elizabeth Handling and we were very young. I met her in 
>>> Astoria where I grew up, right out of high school."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> Judy reached into her red shoulder bag and pulled out some tissue. She 
>>> gently wiped my face, the hot skin cooling under her fingers. I slid my 
>>> fingers under Judy's  cheek, turning her face so that her lively green 
>>> eyes looked straight into my red, swollen ones.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I want counseling," I now said, "I'm ready. You shouldn't have to hear 
>>> all of it. I think I just need to see a psychologist. We should find one 
>>> so you're not burdened with all of it. I want us to start fresh."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Okay," she said, still looking at me, "if that makes you comfortable. 
>>> I'm your friend, Glen. I'll help you. I won't leave you. Do you 
>>> understand that?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I nodded.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "Dr. Lee Meadows," she said, "on your early morning run. He's a 
>>> psychologist. And he's a nice man, too, Glenn. Maybe he can help find 
>>> someone."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I had to laugh and smile just a little. My Judy Flower, she knew 
>>> everyone on all my trains.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I'll call him," I said, sitting back, relaxing, "I promise."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> We sat there for another twenty minutes. On a Sunday, train traffic was 
>>> lighter. The sun peeped through the overcast sky on that Sunday, I sat 
>>> there, finally easing my hand through Judy's. I felt easier, if 
>>> exhausted. Even if I didn't want to tell her all the story today, I knew 
>>> the hardest part had been done. The wall I had constructed around my 
>>> heart had slowly over the last two years been breeched. Over the last 
>>> week during our painful separation a giant section had been knocked 
>>> down. I sighed, Judy leaned against me and rubbed my shoulders.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I love you," she said.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> We stood up, stretching, I gathered Judy to me, holding her quietly. Her 
>>> heart beat strongly against my Union Pacific shirt. I patted Judy's 
>>> shoulder and stepped away from her, just looking into her calm, 
>>> accepting face.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "How many times have you proved it to me?" I asked. "How many times."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I'll always keep proving it to you Glen if you'll let me. We're going 
>>> to be okay. Now," she rubbed my hands "shall we go home? Do you want me 
>>> to drive?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> I looked at my watch. How quickly the time had flown. Tomorrow we had to 
>>> start another week. But it would be a much better week than the last 
>>> one.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "I'll drive," I said. "I'm okay. Finally I am. My train gets off to an 
>>> early start in the morning."
>>>
>>> "Yes, I know," she held my gaze. "And I'll be on it. Right behind you."
>>>
>>> We kissed quietly there by the railroad tracks. Judy put her hand 
>>> through mine like a child and smiled. I took her other free hand and 
>>> kissed it, my lips curled about her fingers.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>> "You're quite a girl," I marveled. "Quite a girl."
>>>
>>> Shelley J. Alongi
>>> Home Office: (714)869-3207
>>> **
>>> NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
>>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>>>
>>> **
>>> To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
>>> Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
>>> http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>>>
>>> updated July 2, 2009
>>> _______________________________________________
>>> Writers Division web site:
>>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org 
>>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>>
>>> stylist mailing list
>>> stylist at nfbnet.org
>>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
>>> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for 
>>> stylist:
>>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/poetlori8%40msn.com
>>>
>>
>> _______________________________________________
>> Writers Division web site:
>> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org 
>> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>>
>> stylist mailing list
>> stylist at nfbnet.org
>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
>> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for 
>> stylist:
>> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/qobells%40roadrunner.com
>
>
> _______________________________________________
> Writers Division web site:
> http://www.nfb-writers-division.org <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
> stylist mailing list
> stylist at nfbnet.org
> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
> To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for 
> stylist:
> http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/jbron%40optonline.net
>