The Strangers, Scene 6, 1095 words

[TitaniumTi]

I expect plenty of red ink on this one. I'm certainly not writing what I know, in writing about a cricket game from the POV of a teenage boy.

This is the first of a set of three closely linked scenes which follow on from initial events and develop background for the future direction of the story, as well as establishing character for a major protagonist. In these scenes, I wanted to establish him as a likeable character, but one who is neither a risk-taker nor a leader. Later in the story, I want to show character growth as he needs to take necessary risks and become a leader.

I'm not sure that the very close 3rd person POV is the best choice.

I have lots of questions:

Do you like the protagonist? I'm worried that he seems like a nag or a "back-seat driver".

Is the protagonist believable as a teenage boy?

Does the close 3rd POV work?

Is the description of the cricket believable to cricketers and fans?

Is the description of the cricket comprehensible to non-cricketers?

Is the underlying story sufficient to keep the interest of those (like me) who don't follow cricket or any other sport?

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It’s so burning hot, so bright, but I’ll see the game out. We still could win. Josh Major scrubbed his sweaty face with his hand, grimly pushing away his headache. He squinted at the mid-afternoon sky, a vivid, blue bowl from horizon to horizon. Beneath it, the land was bleached by the sunlight; the grass gleamed white rather than brown, and silver heat haze danced against the white dust and black bitumen of the car-park. The bark of the eucalypt near the clubhouse was as stark as the sunlight. Its pallid leaves hung limply, casting sparse shadows on the few remaining spectators. The clubhouse would be furnace-hot, under its iron roof.

Josh tapped his bat against the ground and focused on the bowler. Concentrate. Don’t think about the headache. The Dusty River Under-17s were chasing 365 runs and definitely outclassed, but he’d brought their total up from 280 to 323, with only five runs from Max Bennett to help them on their way. I’ll bet I’ve surprised the coach. Hey, I surprised myself, too.

Jake fidgeted at the other wicket, and Josh glanced across at him. Settle, Jake, get ready to run. I know you’re mad as a dingo in a trap about being placed last in the batting line-up, but you’re not the only one who’s unhappy about it. I wish I wasn’t partnered with you.

The bowler was taking his time about warming up for the ball. Josh narrowed his eyes at him, trying to guess the pace and line of the ball. All right, all right, mate, cut the dramatics. They’re not working.

Settle down Jake, the way you’re jiggling like a pot coming to the boil, you’re more likely to psych me out than he is. Annoyed by the distraction, he thinned his lips. Jake didn’t have the patience for the defensive style of play advised by the coach, John Marshall. You were right to place him last; he’s not as good as he thinks he is. Not that I’m fool enough to tell him so.

Josh readied himself for a fast ball as the Dingo Gully bowler powered down the pitch towards him. The ball seemed to speed up as it bounced off the drought-hardened wicket. He had a momentary image of a ball soaring over the boundary, an easy six runs. Then he thought of the outfielder who’d caught Max out, and his mental image changed to one of the ball arching from his bat in a perfect parabola to land in a fielder’s glove, ending the game. I’d better play it safe. He tilted his bat and hit the ball hard, sending it skimming just above the ground back past the bowler. A good two, he judged, and set out for the runs.

He turned at the end of the two and saw that Jake had headed back for a third run, without waiting for his call. Beyond him, a fielder was sliding into the ball. It’s going to be close, he thought, pounding back down the pitch. Really close. He slid his bat in to the crease just in time, as the bowler caught the ball thrown to him and drove it at the stumps.

The three put Jake at the batting end. You’re happy now, aren’t you? Josh, seeing the gleam of satisfaction on Jake’s face, felt a quick rush of irritation. We can wave goodbye to the win, though. You won’t take it steadily, or even mix it up a bit. It’ll be all fours and sixes with you, until you’re caught out.

Jake smashed a fast ball with his bat and it arched high above Josh as he ran. He turned for the second run, to see a fielder racing across the ground below the ball, which seemed to hang in the still air. Not a chance, mate. The ball fell, clattering onto the clubhouse roof. A six. Well done, Jake. He high-fived Jake, then walked to the crease, catching his breath and shading his eyes with his hand while they rounded up the ball. Time to get ready. He rubbed his temples, then straightened, watching the bowler and Jake, getting ready to run again.

Watch out, Jake. That ball is slower than it looks, and they’re ready for you. Hit a low one next; keep them guessing. Jake got the bat under the ball to send it flying high. Josh ran, one run, two runs, three. His head pounded in time with his footsteps. Keep running. Can’t stop now. That’s not going to make the boundary. He ran the fourth, watching a fielder who was aligning his trajectory to intercept the ball. The ball slipped past the fielder’s fingers to hit the ground just past the boundary, then bounced high. Another six, Jake. Maybe you can win it for us.

The next ball looked as if it was going to be wide of the bat, but spun in at the last minute. Jake nicked the ball with the edge of the bat and it flicked out sideways towards cover drive. Josh pushed himself into a sprint, with his bat held across his body. A fielder ran in to intercept the ball, but it sped past him. Jake called a second run, then a third. As Josh neared the wicket at the end of the third run, he glimpsed another fielder sliding into the ball. It would be chancy to go again, he thought, but Jake called the fourth run. As Josh ran again, he saw the fielder toss the ball to a closer man, who lined up a shot at his wicket. He could feel the hot dust burning in his throat. I can’t make it. The ball sent the bails flying from the stumps, seconds before he reached the crease.

“Out!” The umpire’s voice ripped across the field.

The game was over. Thank goodness. Josh felt guilty at the thought. It was as if the umpire’s shout had unleashed his headache, setting it free to rampage through his skull.

Josh struggled through the formalities at the end of the game, shaking hands with the opposing team, seeing his teammates through a flare of pain and light and hearing the coach through a buzzing louder than the cicadas. Finally, he was back in the change-room. He glanced at the mirror. His face was bright red and shiny with sweat. His eyes glittered feverishly, as if the heat-haze danced there. Gotta get cool. Gotta cool down. He turned the shower on full cold and, without even removing his whites, stepped into the icy spray.

 

[alchemist]

It's bedtime here so I'll be brief rather than embarrass myself

The cricket is detailed and believable but I suspect there's too much detail for non-sports types. You're establishing that he's quick-witted and a good judge of character but I think you could do it in fewer words.

In response to your questions, he seems older than a teenager (too much considered thinking; not enough raw emotion and cussing). The POV seems fine. He's slightly naggy but not so much I'd stop reading or worry about it.

Hope that's of some use

 

[Hex]

I know nothing about cricket but I really enjoyed this. There's enough for me to understand what's happening (all right -- I do know a little about cricket).

The writing, though, is fabulous and I think it would pull most people through.

I did like Josh (though the similarity of "Josh" and "Jake" pulled me up a couple of times) -- very occasionally he comes over as a bit naggy but it's in his head so that's okay. If he keeps on like this I might twitch but I could cope with it for the game.

re teenage boy -- my only criticism is that sometimes I found his thoughts perhaps a bit long and coherent for the context. Places like here:

All right, all right, mate, cut the dramatics. [They’re not working. -- I wondered if you needed this]


You were right to place him last; he’s not as good as he thinks he is. [Not that I’m fool enough to tell him so. -- or this]

 

[HareBrain]

My main thought was that I found the italicised "direct thoughts" unconvincing. I prefer to see these used only when the words are exactly (or near as) what the person would mentally vocalise in their head. "All right mate, cut the dramatics" is convincing, but "It's so burning hot" isn't -- I can't imagine anyone thinking those words unless they're actually in the habit of mentally narrating their entire life, so for me it would work better as reported thoughts or standard description. Even where he's mentally "talking" to Jake, I often find his thoughts too coherent; it feels as though he's worked them out beforehand, and I think it's this that gives him, to me, the feel of an English public-school boy. This might also partly be because of the surname Major, which is reminiscent of the old (actually, perhaps current, I've no idea) way of telling brothers apart by the suffices major and minor. (Josh Major + cricket also puts me in mind of John Major, which meant my first image was of a middle-aged Prime Minister standing at the crease with his Y-fronts over his trousers.)

I also found the description in the first paragraph a bit long-winded, though it's well-written. I think three well-chosen details are enough to set a scene, unless it's important the reader has a more detailed picture; you have between five and seven (depending on how you separate them).

 

[TitaniumTi]

Thank you, Alchemist, Hex and HareBrain. I've started on a shorter version, in line with your comments, Alchemist. I've dropped about 50 words (and one nagging thought) at this stage. I've also substituted a bit of mental swearing for a "settle down".

Hex, I'm delighted that you liked my writing so much, and I'll be able to trim some more words by adopting your suggestions.

HareBrain, your comment about John Major made me laugh - John Major was never a major topic for the Australian media, so I wasn't consciously aware of the similarities in name. Subconsciously, who knows? It looks like he's in for a name change, anyway. (Josh, not John, that is.)

I'll prune the direct thoughts and make them less formal. I suspect that they won't stay at all in the final version, but for some reason I found the scene difficult to write without direct thoughts.

The rule of thumb re three elements of description is useful, and I've now mentally re-written that paragraph, removing the descriptions of the heat-haze and the bark of the eucalypt.

Now, back to work to put thoughts on paper, and see if I can channel a 16 yo boy.

 

[HareBrain]

The rule of thumb re three elements of description is useful, and I've now mentally re-written that paragraph, removing the descriptions of the heat-haze and the bark of the eucalypt.

Hmm ... I actually liked the haze and the eucalypt (edit: now realise you only mentioned the bark, which I've also removed). I had a go at seeing what I would include from your description. I don't think you need the sky: that's too general, and can be assumed. Anyway, I ended up with this, just as an illustration, but of course it's in my style not yours.

John Major scrubbed his sweaty face with his Y-fronts, grimly pushing away memories of Edwina. (OK, ignore that bit.) The grass lay bleached by hard sunlight; haze rippled above the black bitumen car-park and the iron-roofed clubhouse, which would now be a furnace. The eucalypt's limp, pallid leaves cast sparse shadows on the few remaining spectators.

 

[Glisterspeck]

For me, there was a disconnect between the descriptive paragraph and the rest, unless your character is a poet, and I just don't know it. It's much too beautiful, and not really in the character's head. I'd either place his internal thoughts, if you're going to keep the bit about being too hot, after the description, or get more cause-and-effect into the description. You have this with the sky, but why does he notice the tree? Why does he care about how hot the clubhouse will be? The haze of the heat he would notice, but it's probably enough to say it's coming off the parking lot without the description of the asphalt.

Once you got into the action, the pacing was spot on. (I only have the slightest idea of what cricket is about, by the way, but was able to follow.) Personally, I push most internal dialogue into prose. Internal dialogue itself is a distancing mechanic to my ear, similar to some who dislike words like feel and looked and listened.

So, something like this:

The three put Jake at the batting end, and his face gleamed with satisfaction. John frowned and shook his head. They could wave goodbye to the win. Jake wouldn't take it steadily, or even mix it up a bit. It’d be all fours and sixes with him, until he was caught out.

EDIT: Forgot to answer your questions!

I don't like or dislike the protagonist at this point. He definitely has a POV on how better to win the game, or at least, how to play with less risk, but I think this is common in sports.

If he's a teenager, he should probably be near the top of his class in school, I would think. He thinks in complete sentences, for the most part, which is pretty uncommon.

I think you could get much closer into character, so I wouldn't actually call this a very close third. The opening description, in particular, doesn't seem to come from a teenage boy.

The cricket description worked for me, but might be shortened just a bit, unless this is foreshadowing some exact situation down the road between these two characters.

 

[TitaniumTi]

Thanks Glisterspeck, your comment led me to a "lightbulb moment". Despite following the thread about POV and head-hopping, I hadn't realised that I shouldn't hop between close 3rd POV and omniscient POV. Now I know.

 

[George Ian]

Well written!
I do understand cricket - and your description makes perfect sense. Like some of your other commentators, I'm not sure the thoughts of a teenage boy are totally convincing - but the quality of your writing carries it through. You do need to finish this!

 

[TitaniumTi]

I've changed the POV and I hope that it now sounds more like a teenaged boy. I've also tightened up the scene, cutting it back to 853 words.

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I’ll see the game out. We could win. Caleb Hennessy scrubbed his sweaty face with his hand, grimly pushing away his headache. It was so damn hot. Hoping for a hint of rain, he squinted at the blue bowl of the sky. Nup, no storms this afternoon. The sunlight bleached the brown grass so that it gleamed brightly, stinging his eyes.

The Dusty River Under-17s were chasing 365 runs and definitely outclassed, but he’d brought their total up from 280 to 323, with only five runs from Max Bennett to help them on their way. I’ll bet I’ve surprised the coach. Hey, I surprised myself, too.

The Dingo Gully bowler was taking his time about warming up for the ball. All right, mate, cut the dramatics. Caleb narrowed his eyes at him, trying to guess the pace and line of the ball.

At the other wicket, Jake was jiggling like a pot coming to the boil. ****, Jake, you’re more likely to psych me out than he is. Caleb thinned his lips in annoyance and tapped his bat against the ground. Focus. Forget Jake. Forget the headache.

He readied himself for a fast ball as the bowler powered down the pitch towards him. The ball seemed to speed up as it bounced off the drought-hardened wicket. He had a momentary image of a ball soaring over the boundary to clatter on the clubhouse roof, an easy six runs. Then he thought of the outfielder who’d caught Max out, and his mental image changed to one of the ball arching from his bat in a perfect parabola to land in a fielder’s glove, ending the game. Play it safe. He tilted his bat and hit the ball hard, sending it skimming just above the ground, back past the bowler. A good two, he judged, and set out for the runs.

He turned at the end of the two and saw that Jake had headed back for a third run, without waiting for his call. Beyond him, a fielder was sliding into the ball. It’s gonna be close, he thought, pounding back down the pitch. Really close. He slid his bat in to the crease just in time, as the bowler caught the ball thrown to him and drove it at the stumps.

The three put Jake at the batting end. Happy, now? Caleb, seeing the gleam of satisfaction on Jake’s face, felt a quick rush of irritation. We can wave goodbye to the win. Jake wouldn’t take it steadily, or even mix it up a bit. It’d be all fours and sixes, until they caught him out.

The bowler wound up for a fast ball, but Caleb thought it was slower then it seemed. Watch out, Jake. They’re ready for you. Hit a low one; keep ‘em guessing. Jake got the bat under the ball to send it flying high. Caleb ran, one run, two runs, three. He could see a fielder racing across the ground below the ball, which seemed to hang in the still air. His head pounded in time with his footsteps. Keep running. Can’t stop now. That won’t make the boundary. He ran the fourth, watching the fielder, who was aligning his trajectory to intercept the ball. The ball slipped past the fielder’s fingers to hit the ground just past the boundary, then bounced high. A six. Maybe Jake can win it for us.

The next ball looked as if it was going to be wide of the bat, but spun in at the last minute. Jake nicked the ball with the edge of the bat, flicking it sideways towards cover drive. Caleb pushed himself into a sprint, with his bat held across his body. A fielder ran in to intercept the ball, but it sped past him. Jake called a second run, then a third. As Caleb neared the wicket at the end of the third run, he glimpsed another fielder sliding into the ball. It would be chancy to go again, he thought, but Jake called the fourth run. As Caleb ran again, he saw the fielder toss the ball to a closer man, who lined up a shot at his wicket. He could feel the hot dust burning in his throat. I can’t make it. The ball sent the bails flying from the stumps, seconds before he reached the crease.

“Out!” The umpire’s voice ripped across the field.

The game was over. Thank goodness. Caleb felt guilty at the thought. It was as if the umpire’s shout had unleashed his headache, setting it free to rampage through his skull.

Caleb struggled through the post-match formalities, shaking hands with the opposing team, seeing his teammates through a flare of pain and light and hearing the coach through a buzzing louder than the cicadas. Finally, he was back in the change-room. He glanced at the mirror. His face was bright red and shiny with sweat. His eyes glittered feverishly, as if heat-haze danced there. Gotta get cool. Gotta cool down. He turned the shower on full cold and, without even removing his whites, stepped into the icy spray.