An Interesting Character

[Inkheart]

Again this is another first draft and I wrote it in school. I need to find where most of my faults lie so I'm posting this in the hope that you lot will have no qualms about ripping it apart. And if there is anything I do well, maybe you would mention that too.

The clock struck 5.00pm. As usual, the wizzened old man shuffled in the side entrance. The light was dim and the air was hazy with clouds of foul-smelling tobacco smoke. The room was filled with the steady drone of deep voices. No-one looked around to note the old man's entrance.

As old Seamus reached the bar he held up his hand to the bartender. The bartender nodded knowingly and Seamus turned awkwardly and headed for the corner table. He sat down and pulled off his cap. He lay it on the table and straightened the creases out of it with his fist.

Seamus shoved his gnarled brown fingers into his breastpocket. Slowly, he emptied the contents onto the wooden table. He studied these objects with great interest in the faded light until he was awoken by the thud of a pint of Guinness on to the table. Startled, he counted his coppers into the bartender's outstretched hand. Once he had done that and his change was returned he sat thoughtfully staring into the foam which had spread down the sides of the glass and onto the table.

After half an hour Seamus moved his watery eyes toward the clock over the cold fireplace. It was a quarter to six. Grumbling to himself, he swallowed the last of the contents of his pint glass. He stood up and rubbed his hands dry on his tattered, tweed coat. Seamus picked up his cap and placed it strategically covering his mass of straggly grey hair.

As he passed the bar he glanced at the bartender to see if he would acknowledge his departure. He didn't.

 

[leckert]

The clock struck 5.00pm.

I think this is cliche. Clocks can do such wonderful things, why make them do what every clock has done since the "three blind mice"?

Throughout this story, I feel that you are listing things for us as opposed to describing things.

Others have said (sorry, I forget which) that a story should "show" the reader what is happening as opposed to "telling" them. Let us know how foul, and smoky, and dimly lit the pub is by showing us how these conditions impact the character.

A note on adverbs. I have recently been called on this myself (see "What My Father Said"). Adverbs are to be avoided. Usually, when you feel you need to modify a verb it is because you haven't used the right verb. For example (I hate to rewrite for people, but don't know how better to explain myself):

Instead of "The bartender nodded knowingly", maybe "The bartender dipped his head in return and drew a pint of dark ale into a cold glass..." Just off of the top of my head, something like that, maybe? Definitely lose some of the "-ly" words (if not all!)

I'm also confused about Seamus' personality. I think he is intended to be contemplative and nostalgic?, but he also seems to be anxious and awkward?

Seamus shoved his gnarled brown fingers into his breastpocket. Slowly, he emptied the contents onto the wooden table. He studied these objects with great interest in the faded light

I think that if his aim is to study with great interest in the faded light (cliche, by the way), that a softer verb than "shoved" would be appropriate.

I really like the scene you are trying to paint here, and can't wait to read more!

Thanks for sharing! Posting here is certainly a courageous thing to do, and you deserve credit for getting this far!

 

[novella]

The first thing I noticed was that 45 mins had passed in half an hour.

More centrally, you can't decided whether the narrator is privileged with Seamus's point of view or not.

Examples of this: who thinks the air is foul-smelling? Is it him? If so, you should say so. If it's not, are we to believe this judgment is some generic truth?


Using words like wizzened and gnarled to describe him are clicheed ways of doing something you could do much better if we were priveleged to his POV.

In other words, is it difficult for him to move his hands? Are they swollen with arthritis or some other condition? Can he pick his drink up with them? Can he handle the coins? What does he feel about this deformity/difficulty?

Wherever you use an adjective, see if there's a better way to describe the thing. Usually it's more powerful to just leave them out and see what's left.

There are some good bits, like when he smooths out the cap. Try writing it again, but from the third-person POV that sees into Seamus. Does he have trouble opening the door? Does he know the other people in the pub? Does he hate any of them? Why? Like that.

 

[Inkheart]

Thanks for the feedback. Yes I had noticed all the cliches in there and was tempted to remove them before posting.

This is something I wrote back in school and little effort went into it.

I posted it here so people could see my writing style and notice any recurring bad habits I have.

Oh, and as for the time lapse, it was supposed to be half an hour from when he received his pint. But I'm afraid I didn't make it too clear.