Inner Clockworks - Chapter 1 part 1

[igloo15]

I just started writing recently before this I had only written poems and very short stories and got one of my poems published as result of a contest. None the less Novels are a whole different animal. I finished my first chapter and am now working on my second chapter. I edited the first chapter as much as I could but I have always been pretty bad at editing. This is part 1 and is probably the worst part of the entire novel so far in my opinion. I just couldn't get it to work for me anyways I thought I would turn it over to you guys to see if you could critique it. The rest of the chapter is at my website here if you want to read the rest. Thanks in advance!


Chapter 1: Inner Clockworks

Michael Bolsom was a conman; he cared little for the feelings of others. Every opportunity he got to steal from people, he did. So when he had to run from people with guns he had a lot of experience, none the less he had never run quite so fast then he was now. At the casino for the last two weeks he was trying to hook up with the young wife of some rich whale, hoping that his charm would win her over and allow him to dip into some of the large pockets of her husband. It was no more a risk than anything else Michael had tried, so Michael went for it. He did not realize at the time that the wife's husband was a Mafia boss, if he had known his decision might have been very different. None the less the events that proceeded had put him in grave danger.

It was a clear, cold night, one where you could easily see your breath among the still air. Michael's breath seemed almost to cloud his vision as he ran. The streets were dark and not a soul roamed about, except him and the henchmen. Michael’s options were dwindling and his heart rate was increasing rapidly. Michael didn’t want to die here face down in the snow.

Michael’s life had been a long series of challenges leading to this very moment. At a young age, cautious and rebellious, he took on the flighty life of a conman. The reasons where numerous for his dangerous lifestyle, but at this moment all he could think of was living. He wished back every sin he had done in his life and prayed to God something he hadn’t done in some time. It did not change his situation though and turning down an alley he tried to escape.

The alley he thought would provide places to hide and confuse the people following him. Maybe he could split them up and then escape to a nearby train. The alley twisted and turned but there was no way back to the street. He heard the patter of footsteps behind him closing in on him, he had to move fast. On his next turn he was faced with a chain linked fence, his instinct told him to climb so he jumped on the fence and began to climb. As he climbed though, the realization that it was taking too long and he would not be able to escape the henchmen this way, made him stop. Jumping back down he searched frantically for another way to escape his predicament. Behind the barrel or inside the trash container were all logical places that would not fool the henchmen for a second, he was out of options. Then he saw the door, Could it be open he thought grabbing for the handle, he pushed his way in, it was open.

Closing the door behind him he sat against it, with a moment of relief he breathed heavily to replace the energy that left him while he was running. Looking around he saw he was in a large building that seemed to be under construction their seemed to be no viable exit, at least none he could see. Windows and doors boarded up and holes in the floor which seemed to lead to some sort of cellar. Suddenly there was a sharp banging at the door he was leaning against, it was those henchmen again. He knew he would not be able to hold the door back for long so he grabbed for a nearby chair to prop against the door. He ran desperately looking for some way he might escape. He ran under some stairs and hid under some plastic sheets just as the henchmen kicked the door down.

“Where did he go?” “He could not have escaped this building he has to be close by”

The chairs and table strew about, began to be tossed about as the henchmen looked for him. He knew that it would not be long before they found him and he had to think of some other way to escape. He could run for the door and try to escape that way but the henchmen were between him and the door and he would be caught for sure. The only way to go was up, through the scaffolding and up the stair to the top of the tower. Maybe he could escape down some fire ladder or something. It was a dim hope but all that Michael had. Crouching into a running position he got ready to escape up the stairs the moment the henchmen looked away.

The time had come and Michael bolted swinging out from underneath the stairs on to the top of them and started running up them. They made a loud cracking noise as he ran up them and he hoped that the stairs would break as the henchmen followed but he had no such luck. The henchmen were quick to react and came running after him. Running through plastic sheets and knocking over paint cans and tools, Michael searched for an exit, an escape route, anything that could get him away from the henchmen. Then the bell rang why or how Michael did not know but the building began to shake with the ringing of an enormous bell that hung from the top. The sound was deafening and then Michael thought of something, a way out an escape plan. There looking out from an opening in the side of the building was the roof of the adjacent building. He could jump he thought, jump to the other building and make his escape that way. The henchmen would never jump after him it was just too dangerous but Michael knew it was his only chance.

The bell rang a second time even more loud and deafening, Michael backed up ready to run and make the jump. He took off running as fast as he could when he hit the end of the building and the bell rang. Maybe he hadn't heard it but he could certainly feel it, his leg was engulfed in pain and he faltered but he had gone too far and jumped anyway. He knew he had been shot as he soared through the air, where he did not know but the pain told him all he need to know. Michael also saw that he wasn't going to make it to the other side of the building, sticking his arms out he grabbed for the ledge of the building barely grabbing it. For a brief second he had hope but as he started to slip, he knew it was hopeless. The pain in his leg continued to grow and the bell continued to ring.

When he fell he screamed as loud as he could but he had not remembered how long he fell. His life had been so short he thought so little did he accomplish. The girl he wished to meet again the things he wished to do. His family in their blue farm house and white picket fence, how he would love to have seen them again. He knew it was over, his mistakes, his regrets would all be forgotten soon and he took some solace in that. Yet he still screamed as he turned in the air and saw the street below approaching fast. He found it funny how long it took for someone's life to end and ironic for life to see the end so clearly and know it is coming. He suddenly wondered if anyone would cry for him, his parents, his friends; He wondered if she would remember him, if she would come to his funeral, if she would cry or curse his name. He felt sorry at that but it was too late, all too late...

 

[Dafydd Cymraeg]

Hi Igloo,

You're right, it doesn't work for me either. Others with more experience than me will be able to explain why, but I suspect the comments will talk a lot about 'you are telling not showing'.

I think the pace may be too slow as well. There's a lot of words here to describe what should be a short, powerful scene (which it needs to be for chapter 1).

A different perspective could be:

The ice hardened street jarred through his legs as Michael ran. Discarded rubbish, dark alleys and barred doorways flashed past him as he scanned for a way to escape his pursuers, but neither cardboard boxes nor locked doors would save him this night; he needed sanctuary. And there it was. He shouldered the priest to the floor as he crashed through the closing door into darkness.

Michael Bolsom was a conman; he cared little for the feelings of others. Every opportunity he got to steal from people, he did. So when he had to run from people with guns he had a lot of experience...

Regardless of whether you tell us that Michael is a conman in the first paragraph, or keep it until he reaches a time of momentary calmness, I would like to know more about him fairly early on. This way it makes me care when he supposedly (?) falls to his death, and helps me get involved with the jeopardy he's in from his pursuers.

As it currently stands, the first two sentences definitely caught my interest, and I would really like to read more about his perspective on life which made him choose this profession - I want to get to know him.

 

[igloo15]

Thanks for you input i like your perspective alot more then mine it seems to flow better. I am not sure exactly what you mean by telling and showing. Do you mean that I am doing step by step what he is doing instead of removing the steps and just describing more vividly the start and end of a particular scene?

Thanks for your help I am gonna go back and just brainstorm on your ideas about the piece and see what I come up with.

 

[Erin99]

I am not sure exactly what you mean by telling and showing.

As always, this is just my particular point of view, so use or lose my comments as you wish.


Michael Bolsom was a conman; he cared little for the feelings of others. Every opportunity he got to steal from people, he did. So when he had to run from people with guns he had a lot of experience, none the less he had never run quite so fast then he was now. At the casino for the last two weeks he was trying to hook up with the young wife of some rich whale, hoping that his charm would win her over and allow him to dip into some of the large pockets of her husband. It was no more a risk than anything else Michael had tried, so Michael went for it. He did not realize at the time that the wife's husband was a Mafia boss, if he had known his decision might have been very different. None the less the events that proceeded had put him in grave danger. [All this is telling. To be honest, do I, the reader, care about his life before now? No. I haven't met him, I have no dialogue to help me like/dislike him, and this is just backstory. Where's the main character? Really? Is he leaping out at me? Doing something heroic? Saying something interesting? Running from the bad guys right now? No, because you've started the story off with his backstory, which is all telling. ]

Perhaps you could start the scene with some showing, which will engage the reader:

Michael Bolsom clutched at the stitch in his side, wheezing, but could not stop to catch his breath.
Bang!
The backfiring car caused him to duck, a behaviour that was all too familiar to him lately. With his heart pounding in his chest, he recovered and raced on through the backstreets, half expecting to hear another noise -- a shot -- and to feel a searing pain to engulf him, or to see the world dimming before his eyes.​

You see the difference? In the original first and second paragraphs I'm told about him running, about him being scared, whereas in the second we can actually see it happening and see his reactions. From this we can guess he's being chased and so on and so forth. Then, as you describe the action, you could drop hints as to who's chasing him, why they are doing so, etc -- and by that point we'd care enough to want to hear his story.


Does that help at all? I'm sorry I haven't gone into a longer critique; I've got a stinker of a cold and my head is having trouble putting the right words together, let alone a few other things too.

Anyway, good luck with this!


Oh, and I've just remembered: I saw a repeat of "none the less" in the first paragraph. You could use "However" or "Nevertheless" instead, if you must use it at all. Also, and this may just be down to preference, I spell it "nonetheless", which cuts down on your word count too.

 

[igloo15]

Thank you that is very helpful there seems to be a plethora of articles online about the art of showing instead of telling I have begun to read them and understand a big portion of my writing so far has been telling.

I guess its time for some big edits

I try to be careful with not repeating things to much but you are right I do say none the less a lot. I think when I edit it to make it more showing its should fix this but I will keep an eye out for that

 

[igloo15]

Thanks for all your help I went back and rewrote the entire section hopefully people like it better then my first attempt.


An icy wind cut across Michael’s cheek as he ran, the night was clear and the stars shown brilliant among the city sky. The brisk cold air made his labored breath fog his vision. The patter of footsteps close behind Michael picked up the pace hoping to escape from the Hench men that pursued him. Michael was a con man, a double-crosser, a liar and even a heart breaker and throughout his life had never stayed anywhere for long. Even now with men threatening to kill him close behind he left everything and ran, holding nothing precious but himself and tossing away everything else that cared for him into the icy wind that wrapped around him.

Garbage pails and cars of various sorts littered the cracked and decay sidewalk of this back street. Nowhere to hide and nowhere to go all the doors barred the windows locked and darkened to him; Michael escaped from the trouble he had caused. His latest job, a simple swindle, had gone dangerously awry. The wife of the rich whale that was his mark was to be his plan, swoon the wife get access to her husband’s bank accounts and then skip town. The plain was foolproof, until the husband turned out to be a mafia man all too paranoid of his trophy wife. Catching wind of their secret rendezvous and plans to take her husband’s money and run away had been bad enough, but when a hit had been placed on him his problems escalated.

It wasn’t till his car exploded that he had released that his plan had been foiled. The coincidences of his apartment being broken into and losing his cover job for no apparent reason had not just seemed as coincidences. Now looking back on it the warnings should have told him to run, far, far away. It was too late for that now though, while trying to meet with the wife he had entered a room with guns pointed at him. Two men of quite brutish and grave appearances had him cornered if it was not for their inept intelligence and lack of dexterity he might not have escaped that encounter. Even now he was still not out of the woods the men still chased him. Resting besides an old Contour Michael gasped replenishing his breath before the men would be on him again.

The alley before him ran along an old church under construction. The roof, windows and other parts of the building exposed to the elements. A large clock tower sat atop the church as a sort of steeple. Plastic sheets covered the exposed areas in a vain attempt to keep the elements and animals from inside the building. “Where is he?” “He has to be nearby I saw him along this street.” The two men had found him though they could not see him yet he would soon be discovered as they searched.

Bobbing and weaving between cars Michael made a dash for the back alley that straddled the church. Turning back ever so often to check if he was being followed, he stumbled down the alley littered with trash. The alley grew smaller and narrower as he ran coming to a chain link fence that stretched between the two buildings. A crash of metal against street chimed out and the voices of the henchmen closed upon him. I don’t have much time I have to escape Michael thought instinctively grabbing the chain link fence and climbing. The fence was taller than Michael expected and noises of grew louder as then men made their way to him. It is futile now to escape over this fence Michael thought.

Moving his head side to side scanning the surrounds he sought any refuge he could use. A metal dumpster a wooden crate but nothing these pea brained Hench men wouldn’t see right through. A wooden door of questionable integrity on the church was Michael’s best answer, running with his full weight against it Michael broke through. Bracing the door with chairs and heavy tables Michael thought to slow them down and escape a different way. The front door barricaded by heavy wooden planks missing floor boards to a basement below impeded his exit from the back all that was left was the door he entered through. Even now the tables and chairs stacked against shook and fell as the men forced their way through. The roof was Michael’s only chance, the boards creaked as he ran up them. Past the second floor and on to the third floor Michael could see below the men now crawling and pushing their way through the mess of tables Michael had left in front of the door. A loud crack interrupted his gaze as the third floor stair gave way, grabbing hold of the edge Michael hoisted himself up onto the third floor. Returning his gaze to the men below their eyes met and Michael lurched backwards hoping that he had not been seen. The stairs to the fourth floor were gone; looking frantically about the third floor Michael hoped to find some exit some hope of escape.

Plastic sheets and paint cans littered the floor, the flutter of birds and the loud creaking noise of running on the stairs was all the Michael heard as he dashed about looking to escape. Standing at the gap of the wall staring out at the starry sky Michael saw his chance. The building adjacent was not more than several feet away if he could jump he could escape. Retreating back to get a running start he took off his feet planted on the ground moved forward in ever larger strides, everything melted away so focused on the distance the arc the jump Michael ran. As if clockwork the great steeple shook and the bell tolled, Michael faltered a searing pain spread throughout his leg. Having gone too far to turn back on the precipice of the gap he jumped. They shot me Michael’s thoughts said over and over They shot me. The distance now seemed longer then before several feet turned to several miles as the Michael soared through the air, the building seemed so ever far away in those brief moments.
[FONT=&quot]
The brick building rushed toward him slamming against it hard he slipped sliding down before his hands can grasp its edge. The cold air tightened his muscles and burned his fingers by its icy touch. The ice now melting from his warm touch made the building slick his grip now slipped away. Falling back the brick and mortar building seemed larger and taller than before. The clock rang again its tone reaching down to Michael deafening his screams. It was over death would have him soon, His past his present, his wishes and hopes would soon be gone. He remembered the days in the blue farmhouse his grandparents home the laughs and the fun he had those times. Oh the regrets that he had the mistakes that he had made so many people he wished he could say sorry too. None of it mattered now soon he would drift away only memories to those he had loved and befriended. He wondered as the ground below approached if they would mourn him. He wondered if she would be there his true love would she forgive him or curse his name. He felt sorry at that, but it was all too late now all too late… [/FONT]

 

[Kromaethius]

The re-write is excellent, big improvement and thanks for sharing your craft.