Tuesday, May 26, 2009

#17 1000 Words

TITLE: Hiding in the Spotlight
GENRE: Mainstream/family saga




All I ever wanted was to be ordinary, to blend in with the scenery. I got off to a bad start from the get-go with this headline: LARGEST NATURAL BORN BABY ON RECORD IN TULSA, OKLAHOMA. I topped the scales at thirteen pounds one ounce; the beginning of a long battle with the spotlight aimed in my direction.

Many newsworthy events happened in '64: Lyndon B. Johnson was president. The Nobel Peace prize was awarded to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The Chinese detonated their first atomic bomb. The Beatles arrived in the United States. And my mom broke birthing records—her own. Starting with Rick at nine pounds, then Barbara at ten, Mike at eleven and then … me, Patty.

“That's one enormous baby you got there,” her doctor told her. “I think she’s a toddler already, smiling and looking alert. She’s one heck of a kid. You’re a lucky woman.”

Daddy's philosophy: "If less is more, then more is better." He was, therefore, ecstatic at my substantial dimensions. "That's one fine specimen of a baby," he told her with the enthusiasm of a farmer witnessing the birth of his prized pig.

Mama told me how the nurses gathered around me in awe that I behaved in ways considered too advanced for a newborn. I never cried and looked at each one of them in wonder, smiling. Strangers praised and revered me. I call that my popular period. A shame I have no recollection of it. There'd be no more of it later—when unordinary stretched its limits.

***

I leaned toward nervous, fretful people the way a sunflower follows the sun. I felt comfortable around people who were stitched from the same neurotic cloth as I. For this reason, my grandma Oma and I were inseparable from the day I first learned I could scratch myself until I bled.

A Cherokee Indian, Grandma Oma had none of the Indian pride she was supposed to have (she passed her pride to one of her four daughters, her blue-eyed redheaded wild child, my mother). What Grandma had were concerns, phobias, and disorders that she generously shared with me.

Grandma possessed unhealthy attachments to her chickens, along with a fear of dying. She was afraid of what might happen to her chickens if she passed away, she therefore lived a relatively risk-free life to avoid the possibility of an unscheduled fatality. She dreaded leaving her farm; afraid of riding in a car, she saw death at every turn. The last time she had left the property was to be driven four miles into Kellyville to have her chickens dyed at a beauty parlor; an annual Easter tradition. They came out in pastels.

My first unhealthy attachment was to an empty Aunt Jemima syrup bottle. She (the bottle) served as my water bottle, personal advisor, and imaginary friend. Aunt Jemima, AJ for short, answered any questions directed toward me. Except for my oldest brother Rick, the family became accustomed to this behavior, addressing her when talking to me.

"I don't wanna go to bed," sassed Jemima.

"You will or I'll bust you over my knee," Mama cut AJ a stare so fierce, she'd hide her cold, hard body in my pajamas.

"Don't encourage her," Rick said to anyone caught conversing with the syrup bottle. "It ain't right in the head."


When I was four we took a family vacation to California. I flatly refused to go without Grandma. And Grandma flatly refused to leave her chickens, causing quite a quandary amongst the family—and a stress rash for myself.

Outside, feeding the chickens for the third time inside an hour, Grandma Oma reached for another handful of chicken feed in one of the deep front pockets of her large housedress. The other pocket held her worry list and a water gun. The worry list she'd tell you was her prayer requests.

The water gun was to fend off her evil geese—and a disciplinary tool used on my mother.

Grandma's chaotic chickens ran every which way, plucking at the ground and pecking others within thieving range. With red-rimmed eyes, she muttered to herself while my aunt Melba, "Mouth", the youngest of her four daughters, encouraged Grandma to see us off at the airport. Visiting the airport was a big event for some of the relatives since many of whom didn't know the airplane had yet been invented.

“What about my chickens?” Grandma Oma asked. "You know I don't go nowhere without my chickens."

Now I knew where we stacked up against chickens.
“It's just an airport, Mama!" Mouth argued, hopping up onto a wooden fence. “Besides, dem chickens ain’t the ones you need worryin' about. Ain't you scared they'll die in a fiery plane crash?” "They" meaning my immediate family and myself.

Mouth earned her name because her big mouth contrasted with her small body, making said mouth more prominent. Grandma Oma said the name Melba was Indian for Little Big Mouth. My sister Barbara said because of her notorious failure to be quiet, someone slammed the door on it.

"What fiery plane crash?" Grandma asked as she drew her water pistol and fired away into a thatch of bushes at a combative goose.

What fiery plane crash? I mind-questioned my personal advisor, AJ. She said nothing.

I scooted next to Mouth on the wooden fence, watching as Rick rolled Mike around the pasture in a wheelbarrow, zigzagging through cows, laughing. I wanted to laugh and have Rick push me too, but I had serious end-of-life concerns to contemplate.

"Never mind the plane crash." Mouth winked at me. "They might die tragically when California sinks into the ocean." She was referring of course to the "Big One" the earthquake of catastrophe that would kill us violently. It had been the subject of many a hushed conversation amongst the relatives.

"California's gonna sink in the ocean?" Grandma said, clutching her heart. "Oh, Sweet Jesus, no!"

California's gonna sink in the ocean?

21 comments:

  1. The first paragraph is good because it lets me know something about the character - she wants to be ordinary, but is obviously not. There's definitely 'voice'. There's also way too much information being thrown at the reader. Too much, too soon.

    By the end of the 1,000 words I have no clue what is going on, what's going to happen, or why I'm even reading . . . oh, and no clue as to the main character's name.

    Sorry, not meaning to be harsh. I just think the reader needs to know (i.e., name) who they are reading about and something more about her before all the family backstory is thrust at them. Just a suggestion.

    Best of luck.

    S

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  3. I found your first paragraph about breaking birthing records with those weights hard to believe, which kept me from being pulled in. Nine pound babies are quite common.

    Even thirteen pounds... I think I've known at least eight different women who have had babies that big...and I don't know that many people!

    The largest babies I've ever heard of was a friend of my parents, whose babies were 13, 15, and 16 lbs. Her babies generated conversation and pity (from other women), but even they didn't generate news stories. I think the friend of my husband's who was almost 18 lbs when he was born might have.

    Anyway, babies making the news for their size are usually over 20 lbs.

    Sooo... you might want to raise those weights.

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  4. I really liked this. I found myself reading just for the humor (love the syrup bottle) and didn't think too much about critique. I hope that's as big of a compliment to you as it would be for me.

    Good luck.

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  5. It seems to me you have a lot of potential here but perhaps aren't starting in the right place. Is it critically important to the story that your character wants to be ordinary but isn't, and if so, is her birth the best opening anecdote? Because you immediately switch from there to examples of neurotic behavior, which is interesting but doesn't connect. (Other than by being atypical -- but neurotic behavior isn't exactly rare, either.)

    We as readers can't know where you ought to begin because we don't know where you're going with this, but it's something you might want to think about. I've rewritten my first chapter so many times I've lost count -- it's not easy picking the perfect beginning.

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  6. I was hooked. The voice and humor caught me. I will agree with others about pacing. The storylines seems tumble on top of each other. I would like it better if the stories were more fully developed, one leading into another, rather than rather than coming rapid fire.

    I do want to find out what happens to Oma and the main character. Keep writing and give us more.

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  7. I found your voice in this story delightful! Really caught me!

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  8. Not hooked. I found it confusing.

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  9. I like your prose and found it easy to follow. I especially like the description of Grandma Oma, and her chickens.

    I also wasn't sure of where the story was going, but I found your writing and characters engaging enough that I'd read a bit more to find out.

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  10. I'm going to side with Scott here.

    These read like a lot of little episodes, but I didn't see any set-up for what Patty's goal was going to be, or her opposition to it.

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  11. I agree with alot of what's been said.

    I like the voice, and I like the humor (AJ the bottle, nice touch).

    But, like Scott, I had no idea what was going on by the end of this. It feels like way too many different things way too early in the story.

    Everyone says start fast, start with action, with punch, etc. But I would say you need to slow down.

    Good luck!

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  12. I started it with curiosity, but your time line is all over the place. It's like starting off in a hurricane and finding the eye of the storm a dozen times. That's why it's not working.

    Take 1964 - you name all the things that happen. That means you did your research etc., but then I stopped reading anything more right at the point of mother's having set a birthing record for 1964 - all those babies? Did she have miracle births? I got so confused. They thought the single baby was big but it was more than one? It infers the mother is like a mouse. Multiple litters in 12 months?

    That's why I couldn't read any more. If I am standing in a shop with this book in my hand, stealing glimpses at that all-important first page crucial moment where my curiosity is tweaked but let down so soon, then it doesn't auger well for my further consideration.

    I notice the last sentence of the person in front of me. "Everyone says start fast, start with action, with punch, etc. But I would say you need to slow down."

    I'd interpret it as the second sentence here, "But..." should read,
    But stay focused.

    Hope this helps. Good luck!

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  13. I enjoyed the humor in this and I think it's a good draft but it has some problems. I found parts confusing, and too much backstory all thrown in. In this case I'm okay with not knowing where this is going (because I was entertained enough to keep reading)but I have a feeling if you cut some of the telling out, it will flow better. Good luck.

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  14. I like your writing and sense of humor but couldn't get any idea there was a real story coming.

    Comments about birth weights and 1964 were spot on, imho.

    Also Grandma is fun, but I think you drag that on too long. Cut it down to one example and tell us why this matters.

    As is, though, not hooked. Sorry

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  15. There is a lot about this that could be really good. It needs some work though. I love humor, but this is very telly. Wouldn't read on. But if you fixed it up, it could catch my interest.

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  16. I love the AJ bottle and how she hid her cold, hard body under PJs. Very clever. Grandma's dying the chickens for Easter was funny too. But I agree with some of the other comments that I just didn't have a feel for where this was going or what the MC's "problem" is other than that she wants to be normal.
    Also, I could be totally off on this, but the dialect didn't ring true to me as native American.

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  17. I liked the beginning, and I thought I could figure out what was coming. However, I must have thought wrong. Also eventually I began to lose focus because of the deluge of information.

    This phrase confused me: "when unordinary stretched its limits." I wasn't sure what I was meant to take from that.

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  18. RE: Weight...but back in 1964 was 13 pounds common?

    Anyway, I really REALLY liked this. You have a fabulous writing voice, Gradma Ona sounds like a hoot and I love the idea of an Aunt Jemima bottle as a "friend"--but I have to agree w/some of the other comments about staying on point and pacing. Give us a hint of where this is going :D

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  19. Thank you everyone so far for the valuable suggestions. I would like to clarify that a 13 pound baby born naturally was uncommon then and more so today since c-section is the norm. If I even keep that part in my re-writes, I'll make it clearer that we're talking a vaginal birth.

    And Scott, thank you for your suggestions but would also like to point out that the mc's name is in the 2nd para. Her name is Patty.

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  20. This is wonderful! Right now I'm reading She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb, and your piece puts me in mind of that. I'm on page twenty five and he's still setting up the childhood events that will lead to the main story. Which is what I felt you were doing here. This type of novel always seems to start out this way, The Bean Trees is another example I can think of. Something like twenty three pages of story set up before it takes off. I think this is fine when the writing is as fresh and interesting as yours is.

    A couple things, though. I wanted these little incidents to be a bit more fleshed out, set deeper into the psyche of your mc so we can get an idea of the larger story. Right now it has a sort of anecdotal feeling rather than carrying the weight of those childhood moments that define who we are. Because you are concentrating on a series of events that illustrate the obsessive/compulsive, I'm afraid that's what your story will be about. Childhood is defined by multiple events, and it would be great to see more in the first twenty pages. I think you could give a better sense of place, weather, time of year, folliage, etc. Does Grandma live with them?

    Don't be afraid to stretch your legs a bit in the beginning. I think with this type of novel, you can do exactly that.

    I really do think this is great. Good luck with it!

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  21. The first half worked really well for me. I found your voice and self deprecating humour very engaging.

    I agree that it seemed to lose its way in the latter part and I wasn't sure where it was going. is the plane trip the pivotal event here?

    I did have some grammar nitpicks as well.
    Your use of the reflexive pronoun 'myself.
    eg 'stress rash for myself' and
    "They" meaning my immediate family and myself.
    The objective pronoun 'Me' is the correct form here.

    This sentence needs attention too.

    Visiting the airport was a big event for some of the relatives since many of whom didn't know the airplane had yet been invented.

    I'd suggest you either delete 'since' and replace it with a comma, or replace 'whom' with 'them'.

    The sentence starting with 'I scooted next to Mouth' seemed seemed awkward to me (too many commas IMO)

    But those nitpicks aside, I found it an engaging read.

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