short bit from a short story

[oriannescout]

Then there was Jackson by the front entrance, leaning on a pillar against which sloped the concave molding of the open door frame. He wore sunglasses and, although it was hard to tell, his head looked shaved under his trilby, and stubble darkened his cheek. I remembered that we slept together one night when we were drunk. That was high school. I hated that he wore those sunglasses because I couldn’t actually tell whether he was listening or whether he was thinking other thoughts, and my performance suffered as I tried to penetrate the lenses until I caught myself describing a man in the story as though he were this man in front of me. Nobody seemed to notice. I felt stupid for getting tripped up by the butterflies in my stomach and decided to put even more into the reading. I nearly descended to tears myself, reading the pleas of the teenage girl in the story as her father whipped her bloody for having slept with an indigenous fisherman. This brought a shocked silence to the crowd and rather than keeping my eyes off Jackson I found them involuntarily scanning the grass stains on his t-shirt.

Okay some context haha.  This excerpt is from a story about a woman who returns to her small hometown after many years away to do a book launch that benefits a local Heritage Society.

I don't know what I'm looking for here in terms of commentary being as it is so short so any thoughts would be helpful.  Cadence, consistency of voice?

[RAVENEYE]

I love the concrete details you employ. They make this excerpt vivid and relatable. To me, there were a couple of areas where the info gets a bit dense. You can fix that by cutting excess and dividing the info into separate sentences. I'll demonstrate with strikethroughs and (inserted words/punctuation).

Jan 9, 2021 14:26:02 GMT -6 oriannescout said:

Then there was Jackson by the front entrance, leaning on a pillar against which sloped the concave molding of the open door frame. He wore sunglasses and, although it was hard to tell, his head looked shaved under his trilby(. or ; ) and Stubble darkened his cheek ("ands" cause this description to drag a bit. Suggest cutting one or the other, if not both.). I remembered that we (had) slept together one night when we were drunk. That was (back in) high school. I hated that he wore those sunglasses because I couldn’t actually tell whether he was listening or whether he was thinking other thoughts (a bit vague and overcomplicated here, phrasing seems to state that if he wasn't wearing sunglasses she'd be able to tell if he was thinking about her reading but it hedges around the issue. "I couldn't tell if he was engaged or not" or more telling of her reaction toward him, "I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not") , and my performance suffered (prefer to see how her performance suffers rather than be told it suffers. I want to feel the awkwardness with her.) as I tried to penetrate the lenses until I (and) caught myself describing a man in the story as though he were this man in front of me. Nobody seemed to notice (except Jackson himself? a hint of a grin in response?). I felt stupid for getting tripped up by the butterflies in my stomach and decided to put even more (a bit vague here. More what?) into the reading. I nearly descended to tears myself, (while) reading the pleas of the teenage girl in the story as her father whipped her bloody for having slept with an indigenous fisherman. This brought a shocked silence to the crowd(.) and (transition here between actions. She goes from reading to scanning his shirt; suggest a hint about how she manages to do both at the same time) Rather than keeping my eyes off Jackson I found them involuntarily scanning the grass stains on his t-shirt.

A solid start! I'd keep reading for sure--and I'd back up to see how this all started. Keep going!

[oriannescout]

Thanks Raveneye for your comments! i know i definitely have a hard time trying to express the wealth of detail that someone might be exposed to in a single sentence, thus the "ands" and this could benefit from editing shorter sentences for clarity. Always good to hear how it comes across outside my head Also much appreciate the in-text suggestions that would allow me to "show more than tell" as the adage goes as it relates to her performance.

[Soliton]

I am intrigued by the potential relation with Jackson from their past relationship. It seems she has some deep backstory that needs closure with him. There is to me a lot of directions this could go from here, all interesting. I wonder if this is current or future setting, Earth-side or off world? Perhaps this could be the back cover of your book as it has me hooked.

[ScienceGirl]

First, you may have just pasted this in a lump paragraph, but just making sure you know that fiction reads smoother when it's in smaller paragraphs. It's more essay writing that's effective for larger paragraphs. 

Jan 9, 2021 14:26:02 GMT -6 oriannescout said:

Then there was Jackson Let's give Jackson a stronger action. I'm assuming you are listing a group of people outside of this excerpt. So I would need some context for this, but let's say you were talking about a list of people she dated. Lots of different ways to handle this. One would be if she were talking to someone or herself. I personally like going into deep POV for this and stream of consciousness writing, particularly if you write from first person. 

Was that... Jackson?  Jackson, standing draped against a pillar that sloped into the concave molding of the open door frame? --YES! This is a fragment. An interruption with ellipses. FORBIDDEN, right? LOL But you can use fragments as a tool sometimes. Not very often at all, and definitely not when you are outside of deep POV and character thought. 
 by the front entrance, leaning on a pillar against which sloped the concave molding of the open door frame.
Do we need to know this is the front entrance? You have a bit too much detail for one sentence here, so let's narrow it a bit. 

He wore sunglasses and, although it was hard to tell, his head looked shaved under his trilby, and stubble darkened his cheek.
See if you can make this statement come alive. Take the inantimate objects, like sunglasses, and give them actions. His sunglasses and trilby shielded an apparent shaven head... you did good with this in the second half of the sentence. Stubble has an action. It feels alive.

I remembered that we slept together one night when we were drunk. That was high school. First, this sentence is a little more relevant if you wait and bring it up after the sunglasses description. Better and more efficient to not separate those things. But, you're just telling us like relaying a message. Let's get some emotion into it. How does the character feel about this. Wistful? Sad? Proud?  Or, maybe add some commentary here to put a comparison on the past and now.  Darn those glasses. How dare he remain the same mysterious ???--give him a descriptive nickname here--bad boy LOL that I slept with one drunk night in high school? Even now, I can't tell if he's listening to anyone or thinking other thoughts. 

I hated that he wore those sunglasses because I couldn’t actually tell whether he was listening or whether he was thinking other thoughts, and my performance suffered as I tried to penetrate the lenses until I caught myself describing a man in the story as though he were this man in front of me. How did her performance suffer? What is she actually trying to do here? Have her trip or drop something. Give her an action. Okay, I see down below that she's reading something out loud. So have her say those lines and stutter over them. "Please, fa...father." The letters danced on the page before me. Is my forehead warm? Can I even breathe? "Um... Please, father!"

Nobody seemed to notice. This is a good statement and maybe consider letting it stand on its own for dramatic effect.  But let's show it a little more directly. Maybe: The intence faces of my audience never wavered. Now, we know they didn't shift their focus.

I felt stupid for getting tripped up by the butterflies in my stomach and decided to put even more into the reading. I nearly descended to tears myself, reading the pleas of the teenage girl in the story as her father whipped her bloody for having slept with an indigenous fisherman. Right now you're just telling us how you felt. Show us how you felt. Give us your thoughts instead of saying you felt stupid. 

How stupid am I? Teenage butterflies? I sat up straighter and gripped the book tighter. I am here to read, not to descend into tears. Now, give us the words from this book. Let us hear her reading it, too. Let us hear her quoting what the father says. Let us feel her wincing from the strikes and let the blood trickle down her arm, back, etc."


This brought a shocked silence to the crowd Here, you have a slip in POV. This character cannot know the crowd is shocked. She can assume, but she cannot know. So, you can say a silence fell over the crowd. You can say they stilled. You can have audible gasps. But you cannot say they were shocked and stay in her POV. 


and rather than keeping my eyes off Jackson I found them involuntarily scanning the grass stains on his t-shirt. Also, be careful in this sentence because you jump action character. You move from the crowd to the girl. And I'm chuckling a bit, too, ,because I see the eyes popping out of her head, flying around to Jackson, and her saying "Keep away!" so then they fall to his waist level and scan the grass stains. You've essentially removed her eyes from her body with this statement because they are acting independently of her. 

The crowd fell silent. Don't look at him. Do not look at Jackson. Agggh! The grass stains on his t-shirt provided yet another distraction from the page. Italics here because she is talking to herself, so it's addressed like speech.

Was that... Jackson? Jackson standing draped against a pillar that sloped into the concave molding of the open door frame?


His sunglasses and trilby shielded an apparent shaven head and stubble darkened his cheek.  

Darn those glasses. How dare he remain the same mysterious bad boy that I slept with one drunk night in high school? Even now, I can't tell if he's listening to anyone or thinking other thoughts.


"Please, fa...father." The letters danced on the page before me. Is my forehead warm? Can I even breathe? "Um... Please, father!"



The intense faces of my audience never wavered.

How stupid am I? Teenage butterflies? Really?

I sat up straighter and gripped the book tighter. I am here to read, not to descend into tears. "My father's whip strikes my shoulder, shredding flesh as beads of blood roll down the small of my back. 'A fisherman,' he bellowed. 'You slept with an indigenous fisherman!' ..."

The crowd fell silent. Don't look at him. Do not look at Jackson. Agggh! The grass stains on his t-shirt provided yet another distraction from the page.