Sleepy Grove excerpt - 1350 words

[ratsy]

I haven't posted anything in critiques for so long, I thought I would post a scene from one of my Sleepy Grove chapters to see what the general feedback is.

I don't think I need to give much back story for the scene. I just want to see if anything terribly bad stands out in the style and format. Rose works at the Sleepy Grove cemetery and on her way home this night, she saw a brown car in the cemetery, the driver was trying to bury a corpse from his trunk. She see's spirits and a troubled ghost from the cemetery fought the ghost from the dead body off and the driver loaded the body up and took off. Rose found a matchbook behind and decided to do some sleuthing of her own.

#

The Turtle parking lot was full of hogs and pick-up trucks. Rose was actually surprised to see that Sleepy Grove even had this many motorcycles near it. The parking lot lights were a dim yellow, casting an odd, uncomfortable glow on everything. She nearly turned back as she saw the group of rough looking men and women by the door; cigarettes burned red in the night sky. Something urged her on and into the bar, and she wasn't sure if it was the fact she really wanted to find the guy who broke into the cemetery or if she just needed the excitement in her life. She chalked it up to both and walked past the group and into the dingy building.

A large bouncer wearing a leather vest and a sleeveless shirt underneath grunted at her and looked her up and down. It wasn't the leering glance of a creep, just the experience of a bouncer looking for something out of place at a tough bar. He nodded her past and Rose wished for an instant that he'd asked her for ID. She knew she didn't look under twenty-one but as a woman in her mid-thirties she still wanted to feel young. That is the last thing I need to be thinking about here. I have a job to do and it isn't making the bouncer think I'm a young woman.

Her steps crunched on the floor as she stepped on layers upon layers of peanut shells. Haven't they ever swept the floor? She realized she was grimacing and quickly made an effort to not look so displeased at the dirty bar. An old classic country song played over the old jukebox speakers in the corner. She tried to think of the song name but couldn't recall it. Something by Alan Jackson she thought, but it could have been Vince Gill for all she knew.

She hadn't seen the old beat up brown car that she came here for in the parking lot but she figured someone here must know who the owner of it was. The bar was at the back of the room. To her left was a dance floor with two pool tables being used behind it. The right side had tables and a few booths. Most of the tables were full and there were a few unsteady looking couples on the dance floor, trying to two-step to the too fast song on the jukebox.

Trying not to stare or look out of place, she made her way to the bar where she saw an open spot. Something bumped into her and a bottle fell to the floor, shattering loudly.

“Watch wear you're going...” the large man stopped short as he turned and saw who he'd bumped into. “Pardon me. I didn't know there was a beautiful woman behind me, or I wouldn't have went full bear in a china shop on you.”

“I think it's a bull in a China shop,” Rose said quietly.

The man turned his head slightly as if trying to understand what she said. She figured she'd better stop him from thinking or the place might burn down. The thought made her snicker to herself which of course the big brute took as a shy smile for him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, already clearing a path to the bar for the two of them.

Against her better judgment she followed along after the big man and soon she was standing at the bar. She leaned on the hard surface and quickly moved her hands off of the sticky surface.

A bald man with a handlebar mustache made his over to them and nodded at her new friend. “I suppose you want another Bud there Larry. You wanna be more careful with dropping those bottles. Someone could get hurt.” He winked at Rose. “And for you?”

Well a glass of Cabernet would be nice, but I have a feeling the wine here is made in someone's bathtub. “Just a beer for me too please.” The bartender turned around to grab the beers from a cooler and plopped them down on the wooden bar...without coasters she noted.

“So, Larry is it? My name's...Eunice,” Eunice? I've been hanging out with old ghosts for too long.

“That's an...interesting name for a young, pretty lady. First time I've seen you around here. What brings you to the Turtle so late at night?” Larry gestured for her to have a seat on the worn wooden stool at the bar. She obliged him and hopped up.

“Oh just looking for a friend of mine. Maybe you know him.” She had to think on her feet since she didn't know the guy's name.

“Is that so? Well I know most everyone here, so I'm your man.”

She took a stab in the dark. “He said his name was Carl, and he drives an old brown beater from the eighties – a Chrysler I think. Owes me an explanation or two.”

“Well I don't know any Carl, but I do know the guy with the brown car.” Larry didn't look impressed by the man. “I wouldn't trust him. See he told you the wrong name. His name's Fred, and he is a low level criminal -robs gas stations and bingo halls. He's done time on half a dozen occasions, but always gets out quickly because he never steals enough to be a felony.”

Rose couldn't believe her luck. She'd only been there for a few minutes and already she had the name of the guy.

She decided to press her luck. “Larry, do you know where I can find Fred?”

Larry took a long swig from his beer; the bottle looked too small in his meaty grip. He set it down, the bottle was almost empty. “I'm not sure a nice lady like you should be looking for a slime-ball like Fred.” He set his paw down on her hand. “I would be much better company I'm sure.”

It took every ounce of Rose's being to not pull her hand away and run out of the dank bar.

“Well Larry, just tell me where he is and maybe we can have another drink,” Rose said sweetly.

“He lives in a small house up on fourth street, I think. He always brags he is mortgage free. I think his mom left it to him when she died or something.”

Rose had what she needed from this place and she knew the best move was to get out of here. Eunice would be forgotten quickly in a place like this. She glanced over to the washroom and decided to see if there was a way out. Why not? I've seen it in the movies a hundred times.

“Larry, I have to go to the ladies room to freshen up. Can you order me another drink?”

He looked ready to say something about her untouched beer sweating on the bar but she had already gotten off the stool and was halfway to the washroom. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. There was one woman at the sink, looking far too drunk to be standing. Rose supposed she wasn't so much standing as leaning against the vanity. Bingo. The stall had a small window behind the toilet, and she locked the partition door behind her. The toilet was full of things she wished she'd never seen, and she used her foot to close the lid down. The window slid open with a screech and she hauled herself up and out of the window. It was a short drop into the cool night and she was happy it left her behind the bar. No one would be here to see her slip out of the woman's room.

I have to stop climbing out of windows..or putting myself in these situations. Her phone buzzed and she saw Roger was trying to call her. Probably just checking to make sure I stayed home. She put the phone back in her purse and ran around the building and to her car. Well Fred, here I come.

 

[Kerrybuchanan]

I liked this, ratsy. There were a couple of minor things, like “Watch wear you're going...” instead of where you're going.

The main problem (and I realise I am quite probably the last person in the world to be dishing out this advice) is that it felt a little distant. I feel you needed to bring us deeper into Rose's feelings with a bit more show. For example:

Against her better judgment she followed along after the big man and soon she was standing at the bar. She leaned on the hard surface and quickly moved her hands off of the sticky surface.

How did she feel when she ignored her inner voice, the one that old her it was crazy to let this guy buy her a drink? Was she frightened? Did bravado drive her? Desperation? Did she glance around her and notice the other men in the bar watching her in a predatory manner?If so did it make her shiver? Heart rate pick up? Goosebumps?

You will see from this that I have trouble writing these situations well too....

 

[ratsy]

Great point Kerry! I do know that I need to delve deeper into the POV as I write them. This is something I usually try to add back in afterwards, with limited success. At this point I've been just trying to get the story down, but it would be smarter of me to attempt to be more thorough as I write the first draft.

 

[Kerrybuchanan]

As I said, I have big trouble myself with this. I'm currently going through my steam punk short and trying to inject some closeness, and I write mainly in 1st person, so there's no excuse. It's supposed to be the easiest form in which to get close to your POV character.

 

[ratsy]

Anyone else have a chance to give it a looksie? @TheDustyZebra @Juliana maybe???

 

[Jo Zebedee]

I will try to get to it in the next day or two.

 

[The Judge]

I have to confess I struggled to get into this, ratsy. I think the problem for me is that the sentences are all much of the same length in the opening paragraphs, and it made for rather a deadening effect. I'd suggest you vary length a lot more to give some impetus to it.

Another problem I had, though this is a personal bete noire, is the use of the direct thoughts in italics which aren't actually telling us anything you couldn't have expressed in indirect unitalicised type. To me it rather reads as if you think simply by making it direct thought you're somehow getting closer to her, when in fact it doesn't and -- again this is just me -- it actually acts as a turn off. Sorry.

 

[Toby Frost]

On a first glance, I liked this a lot. I felt that it's one of those occasions where the style of the story perfectly fits its subject matter. I'll have a closer look tomorrow morning, but I thought it flowed well.

 

[J. L. Holtz]

Situational Awareness is off for me,

Example, cigarettes burned red in the night sky. -- look at what this implies, are they holding them up high against the sky, did the clause make sense? May be something like; cigarettes burned red contrasting in the dark of night.

What is in the bar is of no matter as it is not used again, 'A guy walks into a bar.' The covenant between the author and reader is already established. We already know there will be chairs, tables, and a bar.

"the bar was at the back of the room. To her left was a dance floor with two pool tables being used behind it. The right side had tables and a few booths. Most of the tables were full..."

Ditch the pop-cultural references if you want someone to appreciate your writing in the future. They add nothing to the story, unless you are promoting the singers, but the part that she could not remember the song does add some value to Rose's character.

"Something by Alan Jackson she thought, but it could have been Vince Gill for all she knew."

If Rose is one of your main characters, she needs to be more likable to the reader, and needs to have more at stake. She came into the bar, got what she wanted, and from biker bar at that, easy-peasy--no problem... right?

What if she didn't get what she wanted? What would the implications be? Would it be exciting, would it put her in danger, would she survive?

Why did she even have to go out the window? I did not read where there was any real danger that would cause someone to crawl out a nasty little bathroom window, so this part didn't add anything to the story. If she's crawling out a window, I want to know that it was for a good cause. An 'inciting incident' -- cause and reaction.

If a girl goes into a biker bar and is not a biker chick, then she is looking for trouble. And she's going to find it.

Tension, tension, tension is your friend. Things should not come easy for your characters, especially if you want to make the reader care about them.

And, maybe vs. may be
Maybe = perhaps
May be = the possibility of

I hope this helps, keep at it, work your phrasing, and it will come along. Just always ask yourself what is at stake, and what it means to my character.
Thanks
J.

 

[Toby Frost]

I think the authorial voice works well. I first assumed that "hogs" were literal pigs (especially given the pick-ups), but the slang seems to suit the style and setting. It gives the impression of the story being told by an insider.

I like the atmosphere. I can imagine this sort of place, although my mental image might not be precisely yours: a locals' bar, rather than a bikers' one, perhaps out in the sticks or some small American town. It feels tough but not directly threatening. I imagined the inside of the bar to be rather empty, which may not be the intended aim, which made me think that Rose had got there early in the evening. That's probably because Rose only interacts with one patron and the barman. The musical references don't really bother me: if anything I'd make them older and more obvious (Johnny Cash, Metallica, whatever seems appropriate). I wouldn't expect guys like this to be listening to current music.

My overall feeling is that there's something slightly procedural about the scene, as if Rose is a detective carrying out routine inquiries. This probably comes from the lack of tension. If that's the case, then fine, but if this is a scene that requires threat etc, it needs a bit of beefing-up - perhaps not in literal events so much as showing Rose's apprehension more. But overall, I liked it.

 

[ratsy]

TJ, thanks for the advice. I see what you mean about the sentence lengths and I will look at that. I'll also see of I do that elsewhere because I probably do. I know italicized thoughts aren't for everyone but I've done it throughout the book. If betas dislike after its done, I may look at adjusting.

JL, good points. I will review. To me this scene comes between her witnessing someone trying to bury a dead body in her cemetery and being chased off by a 16 year old suicide victims spirit that resides at her cemetery. And it leads up to her snooping at Fred's and learning about another murder that takes place, escalating to an FBI agent pulling his gun on her as she stands over the bodies hoping a 'ghost' pops out to talk to. So I do have a lot of action and tension. Maybe this scene can be a little lighter...or maybe I should beef it up a bit.

Toby, that's a lot for liking the voice. Its always good to hear that. The bar is packed... Its after midnight in the only rough bar in town on a Friday night. I will probably just make reference to a country song playing, and remove names.

As for the window, she has had to escape from via a window in my short story that became chapter one (You will be able to read this in Emby Press' upcoming Ghost Papers, anthology) and i wanted to duplicate that.

She is a lonely thirty something who spends her time alone at the cemetery where she loves and works, and talks to ghosts...she finds her calling when a 'guest' shows up at their funeral. They tell her who killed them, and she realizes she can help these spirits move on by helping them find peace. So in my head some of these scenes, she doesn't seem as worried as someone may be. She has been through much more terrifying at this point, and knows the stakes are high, and in a sick way, she is enjoying the hunt and the 'detective' work. She finally feels alive after so many years of hiding.

Anyways, great feedback so far and I will take it all into account and see if I can't make the scene better, and use the advice throughout the book. This is why we post here.

Thanks

 

[J. L. Holtz]

In your explanation, it seems that this sense is a transition scene. They're the hardest to write and most always can be tossed out of the book. ask yourself: How does this scene propel the story-line, is it even necessary, what road it does it lead your main character to, does it make her grow, evolve, or is it just to get to the next scene?

In most cases it is better to leave a transition scene out, end the chapter after all that brilliant heart pumping action, and go to a new chapter. Pick up the story from there.

OR, ask your main character what she would do? Believe me, after a while they start talking to you.

Back to the situational awareness; girl walks into a biker bar, crosses the threshold into a cowboy bar. Unless she's time warping, the situation is:

A biker bar is born to be wild, tattoos, chain belts and all bikers flying club colors stitched on leather garb and all those biker chicks will up in Rose's face the minute she walks in. They certainly don't want any competition.

A cowboy bar is stomping the two-step on discarded peanut shells, hey-ha! and show me the hot wings. Or better yet, show me the beef!

Anyway I am sure you see the point

Ratsy, I really like the set up of the story-line as you have explained it, and am real interested where you are going to take it. Keep us posted.
Thanks
J

 

[J Riff]

I guarantee you almost nobody around here would know from Jackson or Gill.... even though this is technically still part of N. America. Besides, it could have been Dierks Bentley, yes? Or Garth, or Clint. Perhaps you could list the contents of the jukebox, to add depth y'know.

 

[JoanDrake]

Flow was very good for me. I could easily see the bar (it seemed crowded) while Rose and her companion talked believably

I too wondered why cigarets were in the sky and pigs in the trucks, but once I realized what was going on it seemed an interesting description, especially the cigarets. I've seen bars where a tight group of smokers is always around the door

And I also agree her going out the window seemed a little much. You could throw in something about how much the place frightened her and this would make that more believable while adding more characterisation

 

[Bowler1]

I felt this was very distant from the character and apart from her being very prissy, I had little connection with the character. I felt the car description coming when she was already in the bar as being odd, would she not have seen the car and then entered the bar – or what, this brown car was confusing for me. The barman and customer were coughing up details of Fred far too easy and in general the whole thing lacked realism for me. The bar was a cliché, as were nearly all the characters Rose shared her world with. This was also 1,350 or so words with very little actually happening, so a little slow, but I accept this is a connecting section of writing. More character emotion wouldn’t hurt and I didn’t mind the internal thoughts, but felt it was close to telling instead of showing.


Getting a feel of realism right is like hacking through a thick jungle, you slog it out until you get your style right. This was very close to the mark and I’m not in the least surprised Toby liked your writing because it’s close to the mark for me too. I can only recommend you keep sharing and working hard and as reviewers like me say we connected with your writing more; then keep doing more of that. This is finding your writing voice, which I think is trial and error at times. So good work here, but lacking the special Ratsy touch (to be fair, there were little diamonds shining here and there, so I know you have writing flare) to make it stand out more. Keep slogging on and chipping away, you’ll get there.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

Shall I apply teeth?

The Turtle parking lot was full of hogs and pick-up trucks. Rose was actually what's the benefit of the adverb? surprised to see that Sleepy Grove even had this many motorcycles near it. The parking lot lights were a dim yellow, casting an odd, uncomfortable glow on everything. She nearly turned back as she saw the group of rough looking men and women by the doora wee bit of feeling here - is she edgy? Nervous? too snobbish to like such people? Remember we don't know her character, we need you to help us; cigarettes burned red in the night sky. Something oh, a little weak - what thing? A feeling, a hunch, some knowledge? urged her on and into the bar, and she wasn't sure if it was the fact she really wanted to find the guy who broke into the cemetery or if she just needed the excitement in her lifebetter. She chalked it up to both and walked past the group and drop and? into the dingy building.

A large bouncer wearing a leather vest and a sleeveless shirt underneathdo you need underneath - try to cut words already applied? He won't be wearing it over his vest will he? grunted at her and looked her up and down. It wasn't the leering glance of a creep, just the experience of a bouncer looking for something out of place at a tough bar. He nodded her past and Rose wished for an instant that he'd asked her for ID. She knew she didn't look under twenty-one but as a woman in her mid-thirties she still wanted to feel young. That is the last thing I need to be thinking about here. I have a job to do and it isn't making the bouncer think I'm a young woman.

Her steps crunched on the floor as she stepped on layers upon layers of peanut shells. Haven't they ever swept the floor? I agree with The Judge - the thoughts above were fine, as you went into first, but here you stay in third. (No I). I used to do this, too, thinking it added weight to the thought, but really it's just intrusive She realized she was grimacing and quickly made an effort to not look so displeased at the dirty bar. An old classic country song played over the old jukebox speakers in the corner. She tried to think of the song name but couldn't recall it. Something by Alan Jackson she thought, but it could have been Vince Gill for all she knew.getting a bit waffly here

She hadn't seen the old beat up brown car that she came here for in the parking lot but she figured someone here must know who the owner of it was.Why didn't she look for it in the parking lot - it would have been much more natural to mention this at the beginning? Here it feels info dumpy. The bar but above you indicated she was at the bar? was at the back of the room. To her left was a dance floor with two pool tables being used behind it you could do a nice show here - the clack of balls, someone holding a cue and it catching the light?. The right side had tables and a few booths. Actually, I think there's way too much info here. All we need is a grimy bar with pool tables and country music and we're there. Anything else just slows things for you without adding. Most of the tables were full and there were a few unsteady looking couples on the dance floor, trying to two-step to the too fast song on the jukebox.

Trying not to stare or look out of place, she made her way to the bar where she saw an open spot. Something bumped into her and a bottle fell to the floor, shattering loudly.

“Watch wear where you're going...” the large man stopped short as he turned and saw who he'd bumped into. “Pardon me. I didn't know there was a beautiful woman behind me, or I wouldn't have went full bear in a china shop on you.”

“I think it's a bull in a China shop,” Rose said quietly.

The man turned his head slightly as if trying to understand what she said. She figured she'd better stop him from thinking or the place might burn down. The thought made her snicker to herself which of course the big brute took as a shy smile for him.this could be so much closer and likable - eg below. Also you jump pov at the end - how does she know what he's thinking?

He turned his head, as if struggling to understand her. She'd better stop him from thinking or the place might burn down. She snickered to herself, but managed to turn it into a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, already clearing a path - show! Does he push his shoulders through, escort her, tell some people waiting to eff off? to the bar for the two of them.

Against her better judgmentwhy does she do it, then? Keep us with the character she followed along after the big man and soon she was standing at the bar. She leaned on the hard surface and quickly moved her hands off of the sticky surface.It's all a bit listy. She did, he did. Can you put some life into it? the music changing? Don't tell us she leaned on the bar, exactly, just that she moved her hands off the sticky bit? Break things up a bit?

A bald man with a handlebar mustache made his over to them and nodded at her new friend. “I suppose you want another Bud there, Larry.? You wanna be more careful with dropping those bottles. Someone could get hurt.” He winked at Rose. “And for you?”

Well a glass of Cabernet would be nice, but I have a feeling the wine here is made in someone's bathtub.she's pretty dislikeable. Which is fine if that's what you want, but she is coming across as a snob and not a good one. “Just a beer for me too please.” The bartender turned around to grab the beers from a cooler and plopped them down on the wooden bar...without coasters she noted.

“So, Larry is it? My name's...Eunice,.” Eunice? I've been hanging out with old ghosts for too long.

“That's an...interesting name for a young, pretty lady. First time I've seen you around here. What brings you to the Turtle so late at night?” Larry gestured for her to have a seat on the worn wooden stool at the bar. She obliged him and hopped up.

“Oh just looking for a friend of mine. Maybe you know him.” She had to think on her feet since she didn't know the guy's name.How's she feeling? Nervous? She's on her own in a rough bar with some strange man? Out of place? Anything...

“Is that so? Well I know most everyone here, so I'm your man.”

She took a stab in the dark. “He said his name was Carl, and he drives an old brown beater from the eighties – a Chrysler I think. Owes me an explanation or two.”

“Well I don't know any Carl, but I do know the guy with the brown car.” Larry didn't look impressed by the mando you need by the man?. “I wouldn't trust him. See he told you the wrong name. His name's Fred, and he is a low level criminal -robs gas stations and bingo halls. He's done time on half a dozen occasions, but always gets out quickly because he never steals enough to be a felony.that's a lot of info. A tad convenient. ”

Rose couldn't believe her luck. She'd only been there for a few minutes and already she had the name of the guy.We know this...

She decided to press her luck. “Larry, do you know where I can find Fred?”

Larry took a long swig from his beer; the bottle looked too small in his meaty gripnice - more of this sort of show?. He set it down,semi, at least the bottle was almost empty. “I'm not sure a nice lady like you should be looking for a slime-ball like Fred.” He set his paw down on her hand. “I would be much better company I'm sure.”

It took every ounce of Rose's being to not pull her hand away and run out of the dank bar.

“Well Larry, just tell me where he is and maybe we can have another drink,” Roseshe said sweetly.

“He lives in a small house up on fourth street, I think. He always brags he is mortgage free. I think his mom left it to him when she died or something.”Hmm, getting a bit boring here - nothing is happening. She's not frightened, or worried, or anything. It's all an info giving scene, and I think it could be working much harder for you.

Rose had what she needed from this place and she knew the best move was to get out of here. Eunice would be forgotten quickly in a place like this. She glanced over to the washroom and decided to see if there was a way out. Why not? I've seen it in the movies a hundred times.

“Larry, I have to go to the ladies'? room to freshen up. Can you order me another drink?”

He looked ready to say something about her untouched beer sweating on the barbit silly to draw attention to it, then, by asking for another but she had already gotten off the stool and was halfway to the washroom. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. There was one woman at the sink, looking far too drunk to be standing. Rose supposed she wasn't so much standing as leaning against the vanity. Bingo. The stall had a small window behind the toilet, and she locked the partition door behind her. The toilet was full of things she wished she'd never seenah, no, come on. Show us that. , and she used her foot to close the lid downdrop down - closing the lid tells us that. The window slid open with a screech and she hauled herself up and out of the windowdid she struggle? Was it easy to fit - keep us with you. It was a short drop into the cool night and she was happy it left her behind the bar. No one would be here to see her slip out of the woman's room.

I have to stop climbing out of windows..or putting myself in these situations. Her phone buzzed and she saw Roger was trying to call her. Probably just checking to make sure I stayed home. She put the phone back in her purse and ran around the building and to her car. Well Fred, here I come.

I think there is work to be done. I think some of it was what TJ was saying about the italics - you drop into them a lot when staying in third and putting them in her voice could be just as effective (I'll try to find an example and PM you) and less distracting. I think, too, it's too listy and not enough about what the character is feeling. Too much tell in the description of the bar, for instance, and hardly any show.

Sorry. You did ask

 

[ratsy]

Thanks Bowler. She saw the car earlier in the night, and a time or two before that. I intended the bar to be cliche. If you go to any small town in North America...this bar exists. haha. And the characters in it exist in one form or another.

Springs, great points. I will review all of it, and try to see if I can use everyone's suggestions to improve this scene, and all scenes because that is the point of critiques. And yes, I did ask.

My goal is to turn out a good book once I'm done, and I won't do that with out help from my peers!

 

[ratsy]

Hey Gang, thanks for the help. Can you take another look and see if it is a little better now? I tried to adjust based on suggestions. It is now 1297 words.

***

The Turtle parking lot was full of Harley’s and pick-up trucks. Rose was surprised to see that Sleepy Grove had this many bikes in it. The parking lot lights were a dim yellow, casting an odd, uncomfortable glow on everything. She nearly turned back as she saw the group of rough looking men and women by the door; cigarettes burned red in the otherwise dark night. Despite the nervous feeling in her gut, she headed towards the door. She wasn't sure if it was the fact she really wanted to find the guy who broke into the cemetery or if she just needed the excitement in her life. She chalked it up to both, and walked past the group, into the dingy building.

A large bouncer wearing a leather vest and a sleeveless shirt grunted at her and looked her up and down. It wasn't the leering glance of a creep, just the experience of a bouncer looking for something out of place at a tough bar. He nodded her past and Rose wished for an instant that he'd asked her for ID. She knew she didn't look under twenty-one but as a woman in her mid-thirties she still wanted to feel young.

Her steps crunched on the floor as her boots crushed layers upon layers of peanut shells. She realized she was grimacing and quickly made an effort to not look so displeased at the dirty bar. An old classic country song played over the old jukebox speakers in the corner of the room.

She hadn't seen the old beat up brown car that she came here for in the parking lot, but she hoped someone here would know who the owner of it was. If anyone was going to know it would be a server or the bartender so she made her way past a couple pool tables and the semi-full dance floor to the back of the bar. Something bumped into her and a bottle fell to the floor, shattering loudly.

“Watch where you're going...” the large man stopped short as he turned and saw who he'd bumped into. “Pardon me. I didn't know there was a beautiful woman behind me, or I wouldn't have went full bear in a china shop on you.”

“I think it'sa bull in a China shop,” Rose said quietly.

The man turned his head slightly as if trying to understand what she said. She figured she'd better stop him from thinking or the place might burn down. The thought made her snicker to herself, which she turned into a fake smile for him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, pushing has way through the small crowd around them.

Against her better judgment she followed along after the big man, and soon she was standing at the bar. If she was going to track the mystery man down she needed to talk to the locals. The bar top was sticky and she looked around for something to wipe them with.

The bartender stepped up to them and nodded at her new friend. “I suppose you want another Bud there Larry. You wanna be more careful with dropping those bottles. Someone could get hurt.” He winked at Rose. “And for you?”

Her thoughts jumped to the unopened bottle of Merlot she had sitting on her kitchen counter. “Just a beer for me too please.” The bartender turned around to grab the beers from a cooler and plopped them down on the wooden bar.

“So, Larry is it? My name's...Eunice,”Eunice? I've been hanging out with old ghosts for too long.

“That's an...interesting name for a young, pretty lady. First time I've seen you around here. What brings you to the Turtle so late at night?” Larry gestured for her to have a seat on the worn wooden stool at the bar. She obliged him and hopped up.

“Oh just looking for a friend of mine. Maybe you know him.” She had to think on her feet since she didn't know the guy's name. Her heart was pounding lightly, and she realized she was having fun in a strange sort of way.

“Is that so? Well I know most everyone here, so I'm your man.”

She took a stab in the dark. “He said his name was Carl, and he drives an old brown beater from the eighties – a Chrysler I think. Owes me an explanation or two.”

“Well I don't know any Carl, but I do know the guy with the brown car.” Larry didn't look impressed. “I wouldn't trust him. See he told you the wrong name. His name's Fred, and he’s a low level criminal -robs gas stations and bingo halls. You don’t want anything to do with a guy like that. Take me for example. I own my own bike repair shop, now that’s an honorable gig.”

Rose couldn't believe her luck. She'd only been there for a few minutes and already she had the name of the guy.

She decided to press her luck. “Larry, do you know where I can find Fred?”

Larry took a long swig from his beer; the bottle looked too small in his meaty grip. He set it down; the bottle was almost empty. “I'm not sure a nice lady like you should be looking for a slime-ball like Fred.” He set his paw down on her hand. “I would be much better company I'm sure.”

It took every ounce of Rose's being to not pull her hand away and run out of the dank bar.

“Well Larry, just tell me where he is and maybe we can have another drink,” she said sweetly.

“He lives in a small house up on fourth street, I think. I drove him home one night after him and his buddy Jim had too much to drink. They didn’t even say thanks, the bums.”

She had what she needed! Now she just needed a way to get out of here without Larry following her. Eunice would be forgotten quickly in a place like this, but his eyes suggested he didn’t want to see her leave. She glanced over to the washroom and decided to see if there was a way out. If people in the movies could do it, why couldn’t she?

“Larry, I have to go to the ladies room to freshen up. Can you order me another drink?”

She hoped he didn’t notice her first one was almost full. She pushed the door open and stepped into the room. There was one woman at the sink, looking far too drunk to be standing. Rose supposed she wasn't so much standing as leaning against the vanity.Bingo.The stall had a small window behind the toilet, and she locked the partition door behind her. Unthinkable things floated in the toilet and she hurried to kick the seat lid down to cover the mess. The window slid open with a screech and she hauled herself up and out of the window. Her shirt caught on the almost-to-tight frame ripping the blouse. It was a short drop into the cool night and she was happy it left her behind the bar. No one would be here to see her slip out of the woman's room. She leaned against the brick wall and caught her breath; her heart was banging in excitement.

She knew she should stop ending up hopping out of windows, but part of her hoped for more of the excitement. Her phone buzzed and she saw Roger was trying to call her. He was probably just going to apologize again for having to run out on their date. She put the phone back in her purse and ran around the building and to her car. Well Fred, here I come.

 

[barrett1987]

Did the first few paragraphs. Not sure if my critiques make sense or not but i hope it helps. This is top notch. Similar style to my own. From what i remember about your earlier pieces on here, you've improved a great deal.


The Turtle parking lot was full of Harley’s and pick-up trucks. Rose was surprised to see could change it to make it more immediate. Its rose pov so we dont need the rose was, we can have a comment on the surprise itself. Withotu the distancing of the Rose WAs bit. (Does that make sense?) that Sleepy Grove had this many bikes in it. The parking lot lights were a dim yellow, casting an odd, uncomfortable glow on everything. She nearly turned back as she saw the group of rough looking men and women by the door; cigarettes burned red in the otherwise dark night. Despite the nervous feeling in her gut, she headed towards the door. She wasn't sure if it was the fact she really wanted to find the guy who broke into the cemetery or if she just needed the excitement in her life. She chalked it up to both, and walked past the group, into the dingy building. REALLY GOOD WRITING

A large bouncer wearing a leather vest and a sleeveless shirt grunted at her and looked her up and down. It wasn't the leering glance of a creep, just the experience of a bouncer looking for something out of place at a tough bar. He nodded her past and Rose wished for an instant that he'd asked her for ID. She knew she didn't look under twenty-one but as a woman in her mid-thirties she still wanted to feel young. This line of thought is good but you could deliver it better. ATM it feels a little 'fake' or unnatural. I think linking it to a physical reaction AS she walks in would help ground the thought.

Her steps crunched on the floor as her boots crushed layers upon layers of peanut shells. She realized she was grimacing and quickly made an effort to not look so displeased clunky, consider rewrite. at the dirty bar. An old classic country song played over the old jukebox speakers in the corner of the room...and? link something to the music, a thought or a description to round out the paragraph. Id mention who else was in the bar, a few drunks at the bar stools, a young couple slow dancing to the music.

She hadn't seen the old beat up brown car that she came here for in the parking lot, but she hoped someone here would know who the owner of it was. <-- This is the distancing i was talking about earlier. Rewrite: the beat up brown car hadn't been in the parking lot but that didn't mean someone here didn't know who owned it.--the writing is 100% her brain rather than a story teller telling the reader what she hadn't seen.

If anyone was going to know it would be a server or the bartender so(Telling and a little tension killing. Just get her moving through the room and actioning, the reader will understand shes heading to the barkeep.) she made her way past a couple pool tables and the semi-full dance floor to the back of the bar. Something(someone?) bumped into her and a bottle fell to the floor, shattering loudly.

 

[ratsy]

Thanks for the words. Good suggestions too