New wip: Heart's Desire (400 words)

[allmywires]

Really well written and definitely hooky, but just going to echo the others in that I didn't really get what the Heart's Desire was, and if anything the next bit was even more confusing! So they're tokens, OK, but if this competition - or whatever it is - is also called the Heart's Desire - that makes it confusing. Obviously you don't want to be infodumping straight away, and there needs to be intrigue, but that's what I got from it. The double meaning threw me for a loop. If I'm interpreting it correctly, of course.

Also, I don't think you need to change the 'slipped' in the first sentence, makes perfect sense to me.

 

[Hex]

Mmm. Thanks, amw.

Again, I've obviously been confusing. The token's a Heart's Desire -- if you find one, that's what you get.

 

[Warren_Paul]

Hi Hex. I haven't read other's comments yet, so don't know if this has been said already or not. I liked this, found the tone and voice easy to read and get caught up in, but I found I had a big issue with the talking about Heart's Desire - By the end of it I still don't know what connection the on-screen thing has to do with the very first line, or what a Heart's Desire even is. The explanation, if it is coming, is left far too long.

I slipped Davy the Heart's Desire -Since this is the very first line of the book, I'm already wondering what a 'Heart's Desire' is. In a way that is a good thing, as I'm going to read on to figure it out, but the picture in my mind is impossible to form because I have no clue what it is. There isn't any description to know for sure. For all I know it could be some gimmicky teenager thing, a piece of jewellery, or an alcoholic beverage considering she mentioned bar in the same sentence-along with his change from the bar. He shoved the coins into his pocket and leant back against the seat, reaching for his pint with grimy fingers. -Using the word 'pint' puts me off thinking it's alcohol because I wouldn't associate a cocktail drink with being in a 'pint' glass. I'm also wishing there was a bit of description here for the sake of visuals-

I loved his hands -- chewed nails, grey around the knuckles, yellow cigarette stain between his fingers. Everything mine weren't, all plump and pale and weak-looking. -liked this paragraph. Good visual description and shows neither of them are the 'perfect' characters that people like to portray in YAish stories-

"How's school, Stas?"

"Ah, you know." -I really detest this phrase. I know it's likely what a teenager in present day would say, but it still grates on me in the most annoying way-I fought to be casual, not to blush. "They teach stuff." -This last bit was humorous though-

Brint laughed. "So nothing's changed. They did that when we were there." He tossed back his pale hair and drank a long swallow of beer. -the word 'swallow' doesn't work for me here. It's an action, not a description about how big a mouthful he took-

Davy raised his eyes, dark and brilliant. The lashes were absurdly long. Wasted on a boy, Mum said, but I didn't think so.

"Sure," he said. "But what are you learning?" -This question is never answered, btw. I almost want to say drop it, but answering it would give you a good chance to show their curriculum system might be quite different to what we have in reality. I'd be more interested in the answer to this than the execution replay of that guy I don't even know on the T.V.-

The way he said it made heat rush all over my skin, up across my face, over my cheeks. I couldn't find an answer quick enough to hold his attention and he glanced away from me to the vidscreen on the wall. It was showing the same old crap -- Councillor Corbus just before they guillotined him. The smooth grey walls of the execution chamber; his strange, hunched shoulder. The merciless light. -By now I'm starting to wonder about the setting. I have no idea what time/era to picture in my mind as I read this, or if it is even based on Earth. Is it a black and white T.V. or colour? Those little details. Smoke in the pub, or smoke-free (laws that came into fashion in recent years about smoking in public places). What kind of music is playing in the background? Is it noisy in the pub. Are people playing pool? There is so much potential to add nice visuals to this scene-

I didn't like seeing Corbus die. I watched, though. I always do. Davy and Brint -Who's Brint? That name is kind of just thrown in there with no character to go with it. I'd assumed the two of them were alone until I read this- looked as well, and -- like everyone else in the pub -- they were smiling.

Right after the blade came flashing down, the screens switched to the latest Heart's Desire -Oh, so it's a lottery? And that is their ticket she slipped him? I think that should be made clear from the beginning-winner -- some fat old guy who'd chosen a massive car. I liked that better than when they had a beautiful girl hanging over them, giggling. It always seemed like she was laughing at them.

The stats came rolling up the screen:

Totals for the year so far
7 Fear
62 Fire
but only one Heart's Desire! -What do these stats have to do with her 'Heart's Desire'? There appears to be a chance for a connection here but it isn't made-

Then it switched to the old guy going on about his car. I turned back to my drink, to watching Davy covertly when there was no danger he'd notice.

He was thinner than he used to be, dirtier too since his mum had gone. -Nice little drop of background details. I like the description in this paragraph-The real change was his expression, the tightening of his jaw. It made him look sharp-edged, like you could cut yourself on him.

Edited in the next bit:

I'd got the token when Mum had sent me to buy sugar. Brint's mum had told mine the grocer by the Tumbrilla was selling it ticket-free. By the time I got there, though, it was finished. He took pity on me -- they often do, which is why Mum sends me -- and scraped what was left into my bag.

"Say that's an ounce," he said, not even weighing it.

"Thanks, mister." I handed him my money, got a handful of change and a pinch on the cheek.

When I got outside, one of the coins hummed in my pocket. I felt for it, my fingers trembling with mingled dread and anticipation. It had turned black as liquorice, black as Davy's hair. When I brought it to my mouth, the metallic flavour rushed along my tongue and made my saliva bitter. I lowered it anxiously. If it was Fire -- it was probably Fire -- I didn't have much to lose. Except Pip. I couldn't bear to consider losing Pip. I didn't think about it being Fear -- because they knew, somehow, the Fear tokens, what you were most scared of. So I let myself hope I'd found a Heart's Desire.

In correlation to the first part, I don't see how we get here. I'm assuming there is something in between you cut out? That's probably more what I'm looking for. How did we get to knowing it was a token, how did it connect to what they were watching on TV and why is she thinking about it now? I think the explanation of how she got it is fine to come a bit later, but what does come too late is a bit of description about what a heart's desire actually is.

And I have now added the word 'token' right after 'Heart's Desire' in the opening sentence

Okay, that does help alleviate some of the issue.

 

[Hex]

Thank you so much for taking the time to critique this, Warren.

I seem to have confused people by this opening. I'm going to go back and see how much I need to add before it makes some sort of sense.

 

[Warren_Paul]

No problem. check my comments to see if I made edits after you read it. I tend to do that.

 

[alchemist]

I'm late and everyone got there first so I'll summarise.

It's all a little confusing, or maybe a lot confusing if you include the setting. But it's only (guessing, no checking) relatively short. I've been kept guessing for far longer than that in the past, and my interest held because it was well-written. This is up to your usual standard, so I'd reserve judgement until I'd read more. What it boils down to is, you're not very far away from where you need to be in terms of explanation. Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater.

 

[Hex]

Thanks, alc. You're right -- I have a nasty habit of reacting to confusion by trying to explain everything, which is probably as bad as explaining nothing. Oh woe

 

[alchemist]

No need for woe. It's intriguing

 

[JoanDrake]

I'd keep reading just to find out what is going on, and that is the purpose of a hook, so well done.

 

[Hex]

Thank you

 

[hopewrites]

I like your characters! That's what hooked me. I now wonder if she's working at the bar and that's how she can slip him the token or if she is sitting next to him and just adds it to his change.
I thought I followed it well enough when I was reading it, though I see now I didnt. I thought Hearts Desire was the drink and the Game Show, but you've fixed that by adding token so I at this point I would only question my immediate assumption that she was serving him at the bar.

 

[RJM Corbet]

I slipped Davy the Heart's Desire (What's it? A pill? A ticket? I can't vizualize the scene unless I know what it is, so it risks loses me after the first six words. But I read on 'coz I know it's you.) along with his change from the bar. He shoved the coins into his pocket and leant back against the seat, reaching reached for his pint with grimy fingers.

I loved his hands -- chewed nails, grey around the knuckles, yellow cigarette stain between his fingers. Everything mine weren't, all plump and pale and weak-looking.

"How's school, Stas?"

"Ah, you know." I fought to be casual, not to blush. "They teach stuff."

Brint laughed. "So nothing's changed. They did that when we were there." He tossed back his pale hair and drank a long swallow of beer.

Davy raised his eyes, dark and brilliant. The lashes were absurdly long. Wasted on a boy, Mum said, but I didn't think so.

"Sure," he said. "But what are you learning?"

The way he said it made heat rush all over my skin, up across my face, over my cheeks. I couldn't find an answer a quick enough response to hold his attention and as he glanced away from me to the vidscreen on the wall. It was showing the same old crap -- Councillor Corbus just before they guillotined him. The smooth grey walls of the execution chamber: his strange, hunched shoulder. The merciless light.

I didn't like seeing Corbus die. I watched, though. I always do did. Davy and Brint looked watched as well, and -- like everyone else in the pub -- they were smiling.

Right after the blade came flashing down, the screens switched to the latest Heart's Desire winner -- some fat old guy who'd chosen a massive car. I liked that better than when they had a beautiful girl hanging over them, giggling. (This is a bit confusing, Hex. It took me a while to figure you meant that she was hanging over Davy and Brint, and not on TV.) It always seemed like she was laughing at them.

The stats came rolling up the screen:

Totals for the year so far
7 Fear
62 Fire
but only one Heart's Desire!

Then it switched to the old guy going on about his car. I turned back to my drink, to watching Davy covertly when there was no danger he'd notice.

He was thinner than he used to be now, dirtier too, since his mum had gone. But the real change was his expression, the tightening of his jaw. It made him look sharp-edged, like you could cut yourself on him.


Sorry Hex. Small quibbles. Irritation with the first para, but good scene, good images, nice tension with the execution, and with Davy's literal new edginess ...

 

[Hex]

You guys are great. Thank you

I don't normally post revisions because it takes me forever to incorporate feedback, but because this is a bumpy thread, and in case anyone is interested, here is the most recent version (below).

I've tried to make what's happening clearer, but I haven't addressed most of the comments -- particularly the language points. It's not because I'm ignoring them, it's because I haven't edited this properly. I'm trying to write the rest. I will come back to it and use everything when I'm editing the draft (and I do really appreciate the time you -- yes, YOU, take to comment on my work).

This new version is almost 800 words long.

#

I slipped Davy the Heart's Desire token along with his change from the bar. He shoved the coins into his pocket and leaned back against the saggy old seat, reaching for his pint with grimy fingers.

I loved his hands -- chewed nails, grey around the knuckles, yellow cigarette stain between his fingers. Everything mine weren't, all plump and pale and weak-looking.

"How's school, Stasia?" he asked. Behind him, the vidscreen flashed, casting lights across the skanky tables, briefly coloured us all in something other than brown.

"Ah, you know." I pulled out the chair across from him, and sat. "They teach stuff."

Normally I was more articulate.

Brint laughed at my idiotic mumbling. "So nothing's changed. They did that when we were there."

I was about to squash him -- I didn't have any difficulties with Brint -- when Davy looked up. His eyes were dark and brilliant. The lashes were absurdly long. Wasted on a boy, Mum said, but I didn't think so.

"Sure," he said. "But what are you learning?"

The way he said it made heat rush all over my skin, up across my face, over my cheeks. I couldn't find an answer quickly enough to hold his attention and he looked away from me to the vidscreen on the wall. It was showing the same old crap -- Councillor Corbus just before they guillotined him. The smooth grey walls of the execution chamber; his strange, hunched shoulder. The merciless light.

I didn't like seeing Corbus die. I watched, though. I always did. Davy and Brint looked as well, and -- like everyone else in the pub -- they were smiling.

Right after the blade came flashing down, the screens switched to the latest Heart's Desire winner -- some fat old guy who'd swapped the token for a massive car. Almost all the winners were predictable and idiotic but at least the ones who chose cars were better than the sad old men who chose a beautiful girl. They ended up with some long-legged cliché three times as tall as they were and it always seemed like the girls were laughing at them.

After we'd heard about horsepower and leather seats for a predictable age, the stats came rolling up the screen:

Totals for the year so far
7 Fear
62 Fire
but only one Heart's Desire!

The vidscreen switched back to the old guy going on about his car.

"Do you think they have a script?" I said.

Brint tore his eyes away from the car. "What?"

"They always say the same thing. Blah blah horsepower, blah blah shiny paint -- it's as if they're all reading from a script."

"What are you talking about, Stas? The guy last year picked a 79 horsepower. This one's 165."

I groaned. "Why is that interesting?"

Davy laughed and, infuriatingly, my brain shut down. Brint was still talking but I didn't hear him. Warm and aching with the long curve of Davy's mouth, I turned back to my drink and to watching him covertly.

He was thinner than he used to be, dirtier too since his mum had gone. The real change was his expression, the tightening of his jaw. It made him look sharp-edged, like you could cut yourself on him.

"What would you choose?" Brint asked me.

"What?"

"If you got a Heart's Desire."

I suppressed a moment of excitement -- or panic. Giving the Heart's Desire to Davy had been a gamble and I badly wanted it to pay off.

"Girls never get them."

"How about that one -- Blanche, er... something a couple of years ago."

"Sutton," Davy said.

"Yeah. Blanche Sutton. She picked-"

"Bet it wasn't a car."

"'course not. That would have been sensible. She picked a washing machine."

"Where did she put it?"

"I don't know, Stas. Maybe they gave her an extra room. But whose heart's desire is a washing machine?"

I thought of Tuesdays when I heaved the washing down to the machine in the basement and then dragged the wet clothes up again, to hang on the line between our kitchen window and the Roberts's over the close. If, of course, the machine was working and I didn't have to take everything back up again unwashed for another week.

I shrugged. It wasn't a brilliant use of a Heart's Desire but I'd just given mine away, so who was I to judge?

"Maybe she had lots of kids," Davy said.

We both stared at him. Since his mum had gone, he'd been sleeping in the basement of his old block. The warden, Serg, was a nice enough guy and didn't throw him out much. Davy probably knew everything about washing machines now.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

'Tis excellent. Puts up hand to be a beta, please...

This line jarred:

Warm and aching with the long curve of Davy's mouth, I turned back to my drink and to watching him covertly.

I didn't quite get the with the long curve, I wondered if it should be from looking at or something a little more specific?

I'm mildly concerned about the servile role of women, but I'm assuming this is being set up to be less than straightforward. Only, you know, I hate housework and all that. I'd want the car. Davy is nicely set up as the poor, lost soul, who's a little dangerous. I do hope he doesn't choose the girl.

 

[Hex]

Yes... there's something wrong with that sentence. I like most of it but it doesn't work yet.

re: the servile role of women. I agree, it's not an ideal world.

Imagine, if you can, a world in which women had to do all the clothes washing!

 

[Abernovo]

I second Springs' excellent assessment.
Only two minor points, neither of which are necessarily a problem.

Normally I was more articulate.

I'd say it's perhaps optional, but you might consider a comma after 'Normally'.

Brint was still talking but I didn't hear him. Warm and aching with the long curve of Davy's mouth, I turned back to my drink and to watching him covertly.

I didn't have a problem with any of this, but I wondered about the first sentence ending with 'him'. Would 'I wasn't listening' work? That would leave the only 'him' as the important one - Davy.

 

[HareBrain]

I liked it, as before, though I wonder if there's just a tiny bit more admiration of Davy and description of the effect he has on her than there needs to be.

Some picky points:

I slipped Davy the Heart's Desire token along with his change from the bar. He shoved the coins into his pocket and leaned back against the saggy old seat, reaching for his pint with grimy fingers.

I loved his hands -- chewed nails, grey around the knuckles, yellow cigarette stain between his fingers. [Euurrgggh.] Everything mine weren't, all plump and pale and weak-looking.[Pedantically, this construction could suggest they were "all plump and pale etc", but I think the intended meaning is clear. I like the way the heroine isn't made out to be altogether attractive. (I hope it's not going to turn out that she is wonderfully so, but just doesn't realise it.)]

"How's school, Stasia?" he asked. Behind him, the vidscreen flashed, casting lights across the skanky tables, briefly coloured [although I might otherwise forgive a comma splice using "coloured" (though maybe not in this case), because you used "casting" in the previous clause, this really has to be "colouring"] us all in something other than brown.

"Ah, you know." I pulled out the chair across from him, and sat. "They teach stuff."

Normally I was more articulate.

Brint laughed at my idiotic mumbling. "So nothing's changed. They did that when we were there."

I was about to squash him -- I didn't have any difficulties with Brint -- when Davy looked up. His eyes were dark and brilliant. The lashes were absurdly long. Wasted on a boy, Mum said, but I didn't think so.

"Sure," he said. "But what are you learning?"

The way he said it made heat rush all over my skin, up across my face, over my cheeks. I couldn't find an answer quickly enough to hold his attention and he looked away from me to the vidscreen on the wall. It was showing the same old crap -- Councillor Corbus just before they guillotined him. The smooth grey walls of the execution chamber; his strange, hunched shoulder. The merciless light.

I didn't like seeing Corbus die. I watched, though. I always did. Davy and Brint looked as well, and -- like everyone else in the pub -- they were smiling.

Right after the blade came flashing down, the screens switched to the latest Heart's Desire winner -- some fat old guy who'd swapped the token for a massive car. Almost all the winners were predictable and idiotic but at least the ones who chose cars were better than the sad old men who chose a beautiful girl. They ended up with some long-legged cliché three times as tall as they were and it always seemed like the girls were laughing at them.

After we'd heard about horsepower and leather seats for a predictable age, the stats came rolling up the screen:

Totals for the year so far
7 Fear
62 Fire
but only one Heart's Desire!

The vidscreen switched back to the old guy going on about his car.

"Do you think they have a script?" I said.

Brint tore his eyes away from the car. "What?"

"They always say the same thing. Blah blah horsepower, blah blah shiny paint -- it's as if they're all reading from a script."

"What are you talking about, Stas? The guy last year picked a 79 horsepower. This one's 165." [Yet it's "a massive car". Is this a subtle indication that the world has declined, that the cars here are underpowered compared to ours? Or is this a world equivalent to ours of a few decades ago? (Either would fit with the scarcity of washing machines)]

I groaned. "Why is that interesting?"

Davy laughed and, infuriatingly, my brain shut down. Brint was still talking but I didn't hear him. Warm and aching with the long curve of Davy's mouth, I turned back to my drink and to watching him covertly.

He was thinner than he used to be, dirtier too since his mum had gone. The real change was his expression, the tightening of his jaw. It made him look sharp-edged, like you could cut yourself on him.

"What would you choose?" Brint asked me.

"What?"

"If you got a Heart's Desire."

I suppressed a moment of excitement -- or panic. Giving the Heart's Desire to Davy had been a gamble and I badly wanted it to pay off.

"Girls never get them."

"How about that one -- Blanche, er... something a couple of years ago."

"Sutton," Davy said.

"Yeah. Blanche Sutton. She picked-"

"Bet it wasn't a car."

"'course not. [Course, not 'course. It's still a whole word, even if it's a contraction of a phrase. (Even if it were a contraction of a word, I think you'd still have a capital start even with an apostrophe preceding it)] That would have been sensible. She picked a washing machine."

"Where did she put it?"

"I don't know, Stas. Maybe they gave her an extra room. But whose heart's desire is a washing machine?"

I thought of Tuesdays when I heaved the washing down to the machine in the basement and then dragged the wet clothes up again, to hang on the line between our kitchen window and the Roberts's over the close. If, of course, the machine was working and I didn't have to take everything back up again unwashed for another week.

I shrugged. It wasn't a brilliant use of a Heart's Desire but I'd just given mine away, so who was I to judge?

"Maybe she had lots of kids," Davy said.

We both stared at him. Since his mum had gone, he'd been sleeping in the basement of his old block. The warden, Serg, [Serge? Or does it rhyme with iceberg?] was a nice enough guy and didn't throw him out much. Davy probably knew everything about washing machines now.

 

[Hex]

Thank you both

Aber -- I will absorb your comments.

This is supposed to be set in a vaguely 1930s/40s type world -- hence the underpowered horses and the washing machines (and women having to do the laundry). I have not yet worked out whether it's alternate history or dystopia or something else.

I spelled the warden's name "Serj" and then changed it to "Serg" and got confused. Is "Sergei" spelled "Serge"? I was sort of aiming for a "Sarge" sort of thing with 'e' instead of 'a' (does that make sense?).

Completely oops on the "course". It felt odd but I wasn't sure why. Sigh. Thanks for catching it.

 

[HareBrain]

Is "Sergei" spelled "Serge"?

Serge is a French name (perhaps other countries too). I guess Sergei (Russian or whatever) might be shortened to "Serg", so if that's what you meant, fine, but it reads as rhyming with berg.

 

[Hex]

Bleurg. Complicated, this stuff. Maybe I'll go with "Serj". Or "Bob".