[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
Judith Bron
jbron at optonline.net
Wed Sep 9 22:18:34 UTC 2009
How about sweaty hands? Judith
----- Original Message -----
From: "Barbara Hammel" <poetlori8 at msn.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Wednesday, September 09, 2009 11:35 AM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
> 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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>>
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