[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character

[James Canaday M.A. N6YR]

Shelley,
you just want comments on the character Streicher.
here are some comments:

Something not quite entirely formed ticks off in my head about the 
sentence  Fred, lights winking, and "flirting with me."  first I 
think that's really supposed to be two sentences because the lights 
are flirting not fred, right?
second, he's having the sensation that the lights are "flirting with 
him" implies there's something particularly captivating about the 
lights, the winking, the place, for him.  flirting connects to his 
lost love and his going to work for the railroad after being left at 
the altar, but "flirting" is a really powerful image there.  the 
lights capture his attention, arouse his interest and desire. while 
"fred" is is coworker, perhaps good friend.

>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.
I don't see the uproar.  "cold and clammy sure do fit here to me, 
with what's heavy on his heart about to share, and at that he's 
sharing it with a woman he cares about. further heightens the anxiety 
of reexperiencing the event.  in fact, cold and clammy hands really 
fit with other descriptions of him later.

Streicher is sentimental.  I'm guessing he's at least age 38.  I 
assume he's well built, powerful.

he is more in touch with his emotions than most men are.  apparently 
he and Judy must have some history because he is being quite 
vulnerable with her.
I agree with the comments about Judy telling him to stop telling her 
right then.  I think I have inferred the reason for it, but at first 
reading it feels like Streicher just needs a better girlfriend.

Streicher is an engineer?  if so, I think perhaps he'd note some more 
specific technical details of the trains passing.  on the other hand, 
your descriptions of the trains passing are excellent elements in the 
unfolding story and introduction of these two characters.  I like the 
"green light" especially.  this interaction takes place at his workplace.

what does fred think of seeing Streicher there with Judy?

hope this helps.
jc

Jim Canaday M.A.
Lawrence, KS


At 11:46 PM 9/3/2009, you wrote:
>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
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