[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
Barbara Hammel
poetlori8 at msn.com
Wed Sep 9 15:35:42 UTC 2009
Could they just be clammy? Do they have to be cold and clammy? I'm
stereotyping but all the men I know with cold. clammy hands are weak
individuals. But, hey! It's your story. If cold, clammy hands are what
you want, then leave them. When I see more of the story, I just may forget
about it.
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: Tuesday, September 08, 2009 11:09 PM
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
> 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
> **
> 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: "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
>>>_______________________________________________
>>>Writers Division web site:
>>>http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>>><http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
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>>
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