[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character

[Shelley J. Alongi]

Jim, Hi, I enjoyed your comments on my character, Streicher; very observant. 
I agree with the cold, clammy hands fitting, they do show anxiety and you 
picked up on it. He is an engineer you picked up on that, he does have a 
history with Judy and that's what the story is about, how it develops. This 
is kind of the midpoint we can't have a story without this. The physical 
description is pretty much right on, we discover later that he is tall, he 
is big, not especially athletic, but well built is a good general 
description. The idea about flirting struck me, I had meant it in the way of 
love, he does love trains they are his life in a way, but Fred, I actually 
overlooked that; FRET it should be, not Fred. FRET is an acronym whose full 
explanation I won't put here because of the explicit use of language, but 
it's a railroad worker's term for the end of the train which no longer holds 
a caboose, it is the light at the end that says it's the end of the train. 
The sentence should be There was FRET, the lights flirting with me. Flirting 
does signify his attachment to trains, good catch. I wasn't sure if it was 
obvious that he is an engineer though I tried to make it obvious by saying 
"Judy Flower, she knew everyone on all my trains" and the references to 
passengers on his morning run. Your first reading would be correct if Judy 
meant to cut Glen off at the telling of the story, but she's the perfect 
girlfriend for him and she understands that he can't tell her the entire 
story right now I perhaps should make that a little clearer, he says that 
the story makes him feel sick so there's an implication that he doesn't want 
to tell it, but he will tell it later after counselling. Good points. I'd be 
interested in why you think the idea of the cold, clammy hands fits him. He 
is anxious. he uses those hands later in the story to build things so 
they're not always cold and clammy though they are important to his 
character. Thanks for taking the time to coment I'd like to know if you have 
other ideas. I'll send chapter 2 in a few days in case someone else has any 
responses about chapter 1. Chapter 2 is a flash back.
Shelley J. Alongi
Home Office: (714)869-3207
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updated July 2, 2009
----- Original Message ----- 
From: "James Canaday M.A. N6YR" <n6yr at sunflower.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Monday, September 07, 2009 11:22 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character


> 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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