Her Light - hoping for some feedback

[damppanties]

Lately I've been thinking a lot about my writing, mostly because it's getting harder and harder to sustain a 'mood' to complete a story. I'm wondering if I'm losing it. Despite that, I have a new story up - Her Light, in the Romance category. I'm not wholly satisfied by it, yet I cannot say what bothers me really. Can't treat it until you know what it is. So I'm throwing this out to anyone here who'd like to read and comment on it. I'm interested particularly in what doesn't work for you, however small. And then, also, what does, because the pats are good too.

 

[JADED_ONE1969]

........

 

[mjl2010]

I would have liked to have known who Michael was. A close friend? Former lover? Relative? Brother to her deceased lover? Who was he that he cared enough to not only call and try to get her out that night, but then to check back early in the morning? He had a key to her apartment anyway.

It doesn't really matter I suppose in the gist of the story, but he's an important character in the story as I see it. Her lover is gone and Shauna sought to join her, but didn't. Perhaps, partly realizing that someone in this world still cares.

Who knows what small unconscious things playing in our mind at our darkest, lowest moments keep us from taking our lives. Knowing someone still in this world cares about you might be one of them.

It was just a thought.

A sad tale but with an uplifting end. I got to the razor and thought, Ah no, don't let her do it. I was glad when she was still alive at the end. Damn near quit reading at the razor, but glad I didn't.

MJL

 

[Peregrinator]

Riles

 

[damppanties]

I would have liked to have known who Michael was. A close friend? Former lover? Relative? Brother to her deceased lover? Who was he that he cared enough to not only call and try to get her out that night, but then to check back early in the morning? He had a key to her apartment anyway.

It doesn't really matter I suppose in the gist of the story, but he's an important character in the story as I see it. Her lover is gone and Shauna sought to join her, but didn't. Perhaps, partly realizing that someone in this world still cares.

Who knows what small unconscious things playing in our mind at our darkest, lowest moments keep us from taking our lives. Knowing someone still in this world cares about you might be one of them.

It was just a thought.

A sad tale but with an uplifting end. I got to the razor and thought, Ah no, don't let her do it. I was glad when she was still alive at the end. Damn near quit reading at the razor, but glad I didn't.

MJL

Yes, you have a point about Michael. One loose end.
Thank you so much for the feedback.

GW, thank you for your comments too.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

I thought the story was quite good. I don't think we need to know more about Michael. To me, he represents the reason for her to go on living. Michael need not even be a living person, he could represent the need for life.

Overall, it was a well written story, and one that made me think after I had read it.

 

[slyc_willie]

I left a comment, but I want to reiterate it here: what you wrote was a beautiful story of accepting the loss of the most important person in your life. It's not an easy thing to accept.

The memories were the best part of the story, in my opinion. As Shauna took out each item and remembered the connection of those items, I could see the scenes in my mind.

Exceptional, Dampy. That's all I can say.

 

[damppanties]

Thanks drkside and slyc.
No critical feedback at all?

 

[mjl2010]

Thanks drkside and slyc.
No critical feedback at all?

There's nothing to criticize. unless you want us to get super uber nit picky. My earlier comment wasn't a criticism. Just something I thought.

MJL

 

[damppanties]

There's nothing to criticize. unless you want us to get super uber nit picky. My earlier comment wasn't a criticism. Just something I thought.

MJL

I do actually want you to get nit-picky.
Every little comment helps.

 

[mjl2010]

I do actually want you to get nit-picky.
Every little comment helps.

hmmm. ok over the weekend I'll read it again. I'm sure I can find a missing comma or someplace you could have used a semicolon.

If you havn't yet, maybe you'd read mine and vote a 5 <shameless beg> unless it deserves less of course. I wouldn't mind some decent feedback on that. Starkers so far is the only feedback that gave me much insight. If you wish , skip straight to the campfire

MJL

 

[Varian P]

I do actually want you to get nit-picky.
Every little comment helps.

Very well, then; here's me getting out my fine-toothed comb.

My biggest concern is that this is deeply intimate story, but the way it's narrated feels distant at times, outside the person going through the loss and healing. I'll do my best to go through, and point out examples of where/how this seems to be happening, along with other little nits I spot along the way.

She leaned against the window, her cheek touching the cold glass where hundreds of little raindrops chased each other down to the ledge. Fat droplets backlit by streetlights glittered silvery, mercury. Their shadows on her face slithered down too, mirroring their counterparts' progress down the glass. Grey-black snakes, tearing down her profile, absorbed by the black shirt she wore. Her eyes stared unseeing out into the empty night.

The opening paragraph is more visual than emotional; even though it does a lovely job of creating mood through imagery (the tearing shadows of raindrops suggestive of her unspilled tears), I feel I'm on the outside, gazing at her, rather than getting inside her head, feeling her pain. Except for her cheek touching the cold glass, none of this seems to be about her experience; even if I'd thought she was watching the raindrops chasing each other down the window, at the end of the paragraph, I learn she isn't.

All the looking done by Michael distances me, as well. Instead of connecting with what Shaunna is going through, I identify with him, seeing Shaunna's slumped body, etc., rather than feeling her exhaustion, her relief, her emptiness, or whatever it is she's going through at that moment.

...the time when the membrane between this world and that one was the thinnest, when they could slip through and be together again.

The language and imagery there are soft and sensual, and nicely lull me into a sense of longing and melancholy. Elsewhere, though, words and phrases pop up which do the opposite, pulling me somewhat out of the mood you'd built up to this point:

The phone beeped softly.

The phrase 'beeped softly' bugs me, in part because 'beep' evokes a harsh sound, and my impression is contradicted with the adverb that comes along behind to modify. Maybe a single verb that captures the kind of sound you want? Like vibrated, thrummed, buzzed, or something along those lines?

padding over to the instrument, she clicked it on and brought it to her ear.

I know you're varying your word choice, but “instrument” sounds so cold. Technical.

She ached to press her lips to the faint blue nerves on the back of that hand.

I tripped over that one; the blue lines we see on the backs of hands are veins (or is it arteries?), not nerves.

This is a delightful bit of characterization:

They were colourful, written on flirty stationery, bound with a red ribbon. Full of life, just as she had been. In contrast, her own letters to her lover were starkly black and white.

And here's a wonderfully visceral image:

Dry, breathless sobs sucked air out of her lungs

It's a poignant story, and your prose is often lush and vivid. I hope my comments are of some help.

-Varian

 

[damppanties]

hmmm. ok over the weekend I'll read it again. I'm sure I can find a missing comma or someplace you could have used a semicolon.

If you havn't yet, maybe you'd read mine and vote a 5 <shameless beg> unless it deserves less of course. I wouldn't mind some decent feedback on that. Starkers so far is the only feedback that gave me much insight. If you wish , skip straight to the campfire

MJL

Thank you.

I just read yours. You're right, it really starts at the campfire; that was when I was hooked. And just when I thought it was just a story and they'd all get up, brush their backsides off and go inside to sleep, you knocked me with a surprise ending. Well done.

 

[damppanties]

Thank you for indulging me, Varian.

My biggest concern is that this is deeply intimate story, but the way it's narrated feels distant at times, outside the person going through the loss and healing. I'll do my best to go through, and point out examples of where/how this seems to be happening, along with other little nits I spot along the way.

A valid point. This is making me think.

She leaned against the window, her cheek touching the cold glass where hundreds of little raindrops chased each other down to the ledge. Fat droplets backlit by streetlights glittered silvery, mercury. Their shadows on her face slithered down too, mirroring their counterparts' progress down the glass. Grey-black snakes, tearing down her profile, absorbed by the black shirt she wore. Her eyes stared unseeing out into the empty night.

The opening paragraph is more visual than emotional; even though it does a lovely job of creating mood through imagery (the tearing shadows of raindrops suggestive of her unspilled tears), I feel I'm on the outside, gazing at her, rather than getting inside her head, feeling her pain. Except for her cheek touching the cold glass, none of this seems to be about her experience; even if I'd thought she was watching the raindrops chasing each other down the window, at the end of the paragraph, I learn she isn't.

Ah yes, I am very visual in my writing. Thank you for pointing it out. Perhaps I should try out something different as an exercise.

All the looking done by Michael distances me, as well. Instead of connecting with what Shaunna is going through, I identify with him, seeing Shaunna's slumped body, etc., rather than feeling her exhaustion, her relief, her emptiness, or whatever it is she's going through at that moment.

You're right, though the distancing is not totally unintended. I never realised the reader would be looking to identify with Shaunna. It was intended as a peek into a the life of someone who'd lost a loved one.

...the time when the membrane between this world and that one was the thinnest, when they could slip through and be together again.

The language and imagery there are soft and sensual, and nicely lull me into a sense of longing and melancholy. Elsewhere, though, words and phrases pop up which do the opposite, pulling me somewhat out of the mood you'd built up to this point:

The phone beeped softly.

The phrase 'beeped softly' bugs me, in part because 'beep' evokes a harsh sound, and my impression is contradicted with the adverb that comes along behind to modify. Maybe a single verb that captures the kind of sound you want? Like vibrated, thrummed, buzzed, or something along those lines?

Good point.

padding over to the instrument, she clicked it on and brought it to her ear.

I know you're varying your word choice, but “instrument” sounds so cold. Technical.

I see how it could sound that way. It's refreshing to see my words from another's eyes. I call my cordless phone 'the instrument', so that's where it came from. To me, the word is just a phone to me but I see how the can be seen as cold and clinical.

She ached to press her lips to the faint blue nerves on the back of that hand.

I tripped over that one; the blue lines we see on the backs of hands are veins (or is it arteries?), not nerves.

Agh, yes! You're right.

This is a delightful bit of characterization:

They were colourful, written on flirty stationery, bound with a red ribbon. Full of life, just as she had been. In contrast, her own letters to her lover were starkly black and white.

And here's a wonderfully visceral image:

Dry, breathless sobs sucked air out of her lungs

It's a poignant story, and your prose is often lush and vivid. I hope my comments are of some help.

-Varian

Thank you so much for your comments. They made me notice some points I normally wouldn't have and think about how I could do things differently.

 

[mjl2010]

hmmm. ok over the weekend I'll read it again. I'm sure I can find a missing comma or someplace you could have used a semicolon.

Promised I'd come back to this...

First of all.. The opening dialog was great. I thought it was perfectly done.

The long italized parts are hard on my eyes...but I have trouble with monitors anyway...

I got to the razor and my eyes picked up "crumpled form" from the next paragraph and I went ...Oh fuck no way... and because I have issues there I almost back clicked right then... I was glad I didn't. Something made me stay and keep reading.

Michael's character development, while not essential to the story, could have had one sentence added to it. Who he was. Would have made a difference to me, not to others I suppose. Little details that l like, even in very short stories.

The last thing I'd say. Obviously Shaunna had a lesbian lover. Normally, that sort of stuff doesn't turn my switch(not that I object to peoples preferences). But I saw right off that this wasn't a sex vignette and went with it. It had to be damn good to keep my interest at that point. And you did so...

I'll just it one more time. I thought it was great.



MJL

 

[damppanties]

Promised I'd come back to this...

First of all.. The opening dialog was great. I thought it was perfectly done.

Thank you.

The long italized parts are hard on my eyes...but I have trouble with monitors anyway...

Hmmm...yes. I did wonder if that would be the case, but I didn't really know how to separate it better. I didn't want to do the **** sort of separator for this.

I got to the razor and my eyes picked up "crumpled form" from the next paragraph and I went ...Oh fuck no way... and because I have issues there I almost back clicked right then... I was glad I didn't. Something made me stay and keep reading.

Michael's character development, while not essential to the story, could have had one sentence added to it. Who he was. Would have made a difference to me, not to others I suppose. Little details that l like, even in very short stories.

Yes, after you mentioned it, I did think that would only make the story better. Sometimes I expect a lot of work to be done by the reader, and leave a few things unanswered. Thanks for pointing this out.

The last thing I'd say. Obviously Shaunna had a lesbian lover. Normally, that sort of stuff doesn't turn my switch(not that I object to peoples preferences). But I saw right off that this wasn't a sex vignette and went with it. It had to be damn good to keep my interest at that point. And you did so...

I'll just it one more time. I thought it was great.

MJL

Thank you for reading and then re-reading and commenting in detail.

 

[starrkers]

OK, dampy, you already know I thought this story was excellent. I'll reread it with my editor's hat on and get back to you. (probably tomorrow).

 

[damppanties]

OK, dampy, you already know I thought this story was excellent. I'll reread it with my editor's hat on and get back to you. (probably tomorrow).

Yay!

 

[petemgurk]

overwhelmed

DP, this is one of the sweetest, or bittersweetest I suppose I should say, most moving stories I've read here. I devoured it - your prose is marvelous, evocative and breathtaking. I, too, was worried for Shaunna as she went to the bathroom to get the razor blade, felt a sadness for her as she spoke to her departed lover. Ah, ah, ahhhh....you are a wordsmith, m'dear.

For me, I like not knowing too much about Michael. There's a parallel here with the Archangel by the same name, perhaps, or perhaps not. Still, there is something to be said for leaving something up to the reader to decide just who he is.

Again, a marvelous, witty, moving story. Thank you.

Pete M'Gurk
PS I left feedback as well at your story.

 

[damppanties]

DP, this is one of the sweetest, or bittersweetest I suppose I should say, most moving stories I've read here. I devoured it - your prose is marvelous, evocative and breathtaking. I, too, was worried for Shaunna as she went to the bathroom to get the razor blade, felt a sadness for her as she spoke to her departed lover. Ah, ah, ahhhh....you are a wordsmith, m'dear.

For me, I like not knowing too much about Michael. There's a parallel here with the Archangel by the same name, perhaps, or perhaps not. Still, there is something to be said for leaving something up to the reader to decide just who he is.

Again, a marvelous, witty, moving story. Thank you.

Pete M'Gurk
PS I left feedback as well at your story.

Thank you so much for the feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed the story.

 

[starrkers]

OK. You did it to me again. I knew it was coming, "I couldn't die" got me again, squeezing my heart.

Unlike Varian I like the way the beginning is written. The distancing works for me, showing her disconnection from the living world. The use of the word "instrument" for phone works for me too - it's an annoyance, and intrusion, so the clinical term fits.

The blue nerves thing tripped me this time (probably because Varian mentioned it here ) - call them lines, you use veins later in that par.

The only thing that I did hiccup on both times was your description of the candlemaking

She added the new wax and the old and heated the mixture until it was soft and pliable. Shaunna then poured a few drops of her favourite perfume, scenting it with something she associated with her, and then transferred the mix into one fat mould, collecting the night into one keepsake. All the time she was working, she concentrated on the materials in front of her and the colours and the smells.

Just the wording didn't quite ring true - I've made a few candles from old wax and it needs to be melted totally to be poured into a mould, and to take on perfume properly. "Soft and pliable" doesn't sit right with me.

It's the only real nitpick I've got.
Beautiful story, DP. Going in as a favourite for me.

 

[damppanties]

OK. You did it to me again. I knew it was coming, "I couldn't die" got me again, squeezing my heart.

Unlike Varian I like the way the beginning is written. The distancing works for me, showing her disconnection from the living world. The use of the word "instrument" for phone works for me too - it's an annoyance, and intrusion, so the clinical term fits.

Hmmm... different views. I like seeing the story from different eyes.

The blue nerves thing tripped me this time (probably because Varian mentioned it here ) - call them lines, you use veins later in that par.

Ok, that is a problem. They aren't nerves.

The only thing that I did hiccup on both times was your description of the candlemaking

She added the new wax and the old and heated the mixture until it was soft and pliable. Shaunna then poured a few drops of her favourite perfume, scenting it with something she associated with her, and then transferred the mix into one fat mould, collecting the night into one keepsake. All the time she was working, she concentrated on the materials in front of her and the colours and the smells.

Just the wording didn't quite ring true - I've made a few candles from old wax and it needs to be melted totally to be poured into a mould, and to take on perfume properly. "Soft and pliable" doesn't sit right with me.

It's the only real nitpick I've got.

Hmm... my mother makes candles, and I just realised I don't see exactly how the wax is when it's poured into those moulds. But, yes, makes sense it would be more liquid than solid.

Beautiful story, DP. Going in as a favourite for me.

Thank you so much for the detailed read again, and for telling me early on that you loved it, and then here again too. It really does make me feel on top of the world when it comes from fellow writers.