Narrating Simultaneous Events (Editorial Advice Sought!)

[Oblimo]

Hello!

I am in the process of editing a second draft in preparation of submitting it to Literotica, and there is a particular sequence that, well, particularly sucks, and I'd love some editorial advice on how to clean it up.

I'm writing a novel length story in the NonHuman category. It's a sex farce written in a pulpy, "comic-booky" style with in-jokes and references to multiple Internet fetishes and communities. The first act (around 22,000 words) is submitted already, for good or ill (hey, it got an H today! Woo!): link to It's Always Time. If you're masochistic enough to read the first drafts of the rest of it, I'm posting them blog-style on my storywiki.

Anyway, the sequence I'm having trouble with is a narrative of frenetic, simultaneous events. It's an action sequence where three things happen at once, and I want to narrate the events in detail and convey the sense of fenzied activity while (gasp!) making sense at the same time. I'd love general advice on how to pull that off and I'd be delighted if someone would be interested in putting their red pen to work, either just on that scene or the whole durn draft.

I'm obviously a EF newcomer. Would it be appropriate to post the sequence in this thread? It's only a couple hundred words long, but it would be out of context and it does, well, suck at the moment.

 

[CopyCarver]

I'm obviously a EF newcomer. Would it be appropriate to post the sequence in this thread? It's only a couple hundred words long, but it would be out of context and it does, well, suck at the moment.

Appropriate--and a time-saver as well. Post away.

BTW, in this venue, "suck" isn't necessarily a perjorative.

 

[Oblimo]

Appropriate--and a time-saver as well. Post away.

BTW, in this venue, "suck" isn't necessarily a perjorative.

(True, there is a difference between a "sucking scene" and a "scene which sucks." It's pretty obvious what category this next bit belongs to, anyway.)

You got it. Oh, boy, is this going to be embarrassing.

Looking at it, it really needs some context, so I'm including the first part of the full scene, rather than just the sequence. Feel free to rip the context to shreds, too. The part that I am especially interested in salvaging, however, is the last two paragraphs. The two characters and the location have been introduced and described earlier in the story.

Dee's banged-up Volkswagen drove past fields of wild grass, land zoned for commercial use decades ago but left fallow thanks to its invisibility from the elevated highway. No signs were posted to name the local roads and the MapQuest print-out proved just as wrong now as it did four days ago. Dee half expected never to find the place, or if he did, to find it boarded up and seemingly deserted for years. After all, his previous excursion to SRU Medical Technology had taken him across the Twilight Zone and beyond the Outer Limits to that little curtained-off cubby in the far corner of the video store of cosmic reality that the likes of Rod Serling, H.P. Lovecraft, Stephen King and Clive Barker visited in their imaginations but knew better not to write about it.

A much-relieved Dee pulled into the oversized SRU Medical Technology parking lot just a few minutes before six o'clock. The pickup truck was nowhere to be seen, but the old Mini still sat exactly where Dee remembered it at the very edge of the lot. A dusty blue van rumbled past, its driver apparently lost, the only other traffic Dee had seen since turning onto the local off-ramp.

Dee parked one space away from rose colored Mini Cooper out of some ancient herding instinct. He listened to the click and clack of the cooling engine, trying to screw up his courage. He might have to shout, he realized, or even threaten violence, to get what he wanted. But could he? He glared at the Mini Cooper. The owner had taped a "For Sale" sign in the passenger-side rear window. Instead of a price, someone had written "What are YOU looking at?" in an elegant longhand calligraphy. Below that was a phone number: (555) GET-LOST. "I know the feeling," Dee said, but got out of his car and made a bee-line for the store anyway.

A "Help Wanted – Inquire Within" sign hung amid the clutter of collapsible crutches, orthopedic pillows, home blood pressure kits, and posters for various medical manufacturers crowding the glass storefront. The bell hung on the front door clattered even louder than Dee remembered. The elevated counter ran down along the wall to the left, the cash register perched on the countertop just a few feet away from the front door, providing the occupier of the stool behind it a clear view of the remaining three corners of the store. The stool's occupant, however, was currently frowning over a book of Sudoku puzzles as thick as a phone directory, rubbing down the open page with an eraser worn away to the nub. Dee stepped over to the counter directly in front of her, but she did not look up until the puzzle box on the open page was clean. When her eyes eventually met Dee's, however, she startled with a lightning-quick double-take, as if surprised at being surprised at who she saw, but her poker faced mask of happy inscrutability flicked back in an instant. "Oh, hey!" the young woman said, sounding delighted. "Thick Jell-O boy. How'd it go?" Her dark eyes twinkled. "Let me guess: chocolate, right?"

"Who are you?" Dee said.

She brushed pink eraser shavings off her white blouse. "You can call me Tomoe Exposition."

"What kind of name is 'Tomoe Exposition'? Other than the obviously fake kind, I mean," Dee said.

Tomoe made that all-inclusive, one-shouldered shrug again. "What's your name?"

"Dieter Detwiler. Who are you, Tomoe, really?"

"Oh, hey!" she said, exactly as before. "Dieter Detwiler. How'd it go? And what kind of name is 'Dieter Detwiler'?"

Dee sighed. "Call me Dee. Who are—"

"Oh hey!" she said, a pitch perfect repeat. "Dee. Now are you going to tell me how it went or am I going to have to call in the big guns?"

Dee reached into a jacket pocket. The SRU Thickening Agent tin clicked onto the countertop. Anticipating a samurai staring contest, he did his best to match her inscrutable smile, trying to act cool and but certain he looked like a terrified dweeb. "Call in whoever you want," he said, hoping it did not sound as stupid to her as it did to him, "I don't kiss and tell." They matched stares. Dee's stomach knotted as the moment stretched. "Do you?" he said, thinking: I'm not going to get anywhere with her. This is her Mysterious Foreign Shopkeeper schtick, she is a master at it, and she knows that I know and vice versa. I'm never going crack it, and I'm never going to hurt her, or even bluff about it, because I like her too much. How can I not like her? She set me up, all right, but she set me up with the best thing that's ever happened in my entire life—

Tomoe blinked and swiveled her gaze down to the floor. "No, I don't," she said.

Dee, bewildered over winning the standoff, said, "Huh?"

"I don't kiss and tell," Tomoe said, her grin wide and very real. "But for you…" She held out a small hand. Dee clasped it, expecting a handshake, but instead Tomoe used his arm as leverage to stand on the stool. Dee wondered at her strength and grace. "For you, Dee," Tomoe said, "I will show and tell."

She pumped her fist three times at the window. "Wait a minute," Dee said as the Mini Cooper started forwarded. "What's going on?" he said, as the little rose colored car picked up speed. "Look out!" he shouted as the Mini Cooper showed no sign of slowing down, but Tomoe just stood there.

Dee guessed the little car had accelerated to at least thirty miles per hour before hitting the curb of the sidewalk and his mind shut down while his hindbrain kicked in. He stepped up onto the countertop in a single, glass-crunching stride, Tomoe turning to face him just as the front tires cleared the curb. "What—" Dee plucked her up into the air by the armpits as the front tires bit down on the sidewalk "—the—" Dee spun about, carrying her in both arms as the car's rear tires cleared the curb "—fuck—" Dee leapt and ran into one of the aisles across from the counter, laying her flat on the floor and shielding her body with his "—do you think you're doing?!" Tomoe shrieked at him as the car careened into the front door.

 

[CopyCarver]

Life is intruding (damn that employer who expects me to work!). I'll take a look as soon as I get a few free moments. In the meantime, any volunteers with sharp blue pencils?

 

[snooper]

The phrase:

"Meanwhile, back at the ranch ..."

comes to mind.

 

[CopyCarver]

Oblimo,

Sorry to be slow getting back to you...the demands of earning my daily animal crackers and Cutty Sark intruded.

I just finished marking up the copy with some suggestions, but the mark-ups won't paste into this venue. I'll e-mail you my notes on the early 'graphs.

As for the last two paragraphs, my biggest suggestion would be to break the second paragraph after "curb" and begin a new 'graph for "What--" It’s an unusual construction, and many readers will initially assume that Dee is the speaker instead of Tomoe. A third graph would minimize the speaker confusion.

Also, please, please lose the double punctuation (?!) Grammatically, the question mark is the more correct, but an exclamation point might be more in keeping with the situation. Either works for me, but not both—ever—anywhere in this universe.

Also the Mini is currently starting [forwarded] –I’m sure you intended [forward]

Minor point: in the first graph, you might want to consider using [asked] instead of [said] in [“What’s going on?” he said,] Dee is indeed asking a question; the switch would also reduce by 50% the number of “saids” in two short sentences. There's still a lot of attributions in there.

I’d also hyphenate the compound adjective [rose-colored car], but it’s doubtful anyone will throw rocks at you if you don’t.

In all, something along the lines of:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She pumped her fist three times at the window. "Wait a minute," Dee said as the Mini Cooper started forward. "What's going on?" he asked, as the little rose-colored car picked up speed. "Look out!" he shouted as the Mini Cooper showed no sign of slowing down, but Tomoe just stood there.

Dee guessed the little car had accelerated to at least thirty miles per hour before hitting the curb of the sidewalk and his mind shut down while his hindbrain kicked in. He stepped up onto the countertop in a single, glass-crunching stride, Tomoe turning to face him just as the front tires cleared the curb.

"What—" Dee plucked her up into the air by the armpits as the front tires bit down on the sidewalk "—the—" Dee spun about, carrying her in both arms as the car's rear tires cleared the curb "—fuck—" Dee leapt and ran into one of the aisles across from the counter, laying her flat on the floor and shielding her body with his "—do you think you're doing!" Tomoe shrieked at him as the car careened

 

[Oblimo]

Oblimo,

Sorry to be slow getting back to you...the demands of earning my daily animal crackers and Cutty Sark intruded.

No problem. Well worth the wait!

Also, please, please lose the double punctuation

You're right, you're right. I was hoping to get away with it just once for the comic-booky feel. What was I thinking?!

Also the Mini is currently starting [forwarded] –I’m sure you intended [forward]

I don't think I intended the car to be forwarded in an email or something. At least I hope I didn't. You never know with first drafts. >.<

Your red pencil is greatly appreciatied. Only 59,793 more words to go! Please have your corrections in a change-tracked MS Word document on my desk by close-of-business tomorrow. Thank you.

 

[CopyCarver]

Your red pencil is greatly appreciatied. Only 59,793 more words to go! Please have your corrections in a change-tracked MS Word document on my desk by close-of-business tomorrow. Thank you.

Tried that earlier, I got a message: "Sorry! That user has specified that they do not wish to receive emails. If you still wish to send an email to this user, please contact the administrator and they may be able to help."

 

[Oblimo]

Tried that earlier, I got a message: "Sorry! That user has specified that they do not wish to receive emails. If you still wish to send an email to this user, please contact the administrator and they may be able to help."

I can't get to your email, either, oddly enough.

I'll PM ya!

Gah! Your PM box is full, you fiend!

My email address is "oblimo@gmail.xom"

Just replace the "x" with a "c"

 

[snooper]

... In all, something along the lines of:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She pumped her fist three times at the window. "Wait a minute," Dee said as the Mini Cooper started forward. "What's going on?" he asked, as the little rose-colored car picked up speed. "Look out!" he shouted as the Mini Cooper showed no sign of slowing down, but Tomoe just stood there.

...

I'm sorry, CC, but it is much more normal to start a new paragraph for each new speaker (or each new speech if time has passed since the speaker spoke) so:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She pumped her fist three times at the window.

"Wait a minute," Dee said as the Mini Cooper started forward.

"What's going on?" he asked, as the little rose-colored car picked up speed.

"Look out!" he shouted, as the Mini Cooper showed no sign of slowing down, but Tomoe just stood there.

 

[CopyCarver]

I'm sorry, CC, but it is much more normal to start a new paragraph for each new speaker (or each new speech if time has passed since the speaker spoke) so:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She pumped her fist three times at the window.

"Wait a minute," Dee said as the Mini Cooper started forward.

"What's going on?" he asked, as the little rose-colored car picked up speed.

"Look out!" he shouted, as the Mini Cooper showed no sign of slowing down, but Tomoe just stood there.

Uh, yeah--and that's what I suggested. Are you under the impression that "he" and "Dee" are two different people? They're not.

 

[CopyCarver]

I can't get to your email, either, oddly enough.

I'll PM ya!

Gah! Your PM box is full, you fiend!

My email address is "oblimo@gmail.xom"

Just replace the "x" with a "c"

Get 'em OK? My e-mail has gotten about as reliable as smoke signals in a hurricane.

 

[Oblimo]

Get 'em OK? My e-mail has gotten about as reliable as smoke signals in a hurricane.

Alas, no.

 

[CopyCarver]

Alas, no.

I'll try again. You should have it within the next few minutes. Give a shout if they don't arrive. (I've diminished my fiendhood and forklifted old messages out of my PM box)

 

[CopyCarver]

Heads up for incoming PM--we're gonna get the copy through those damned firewalls one way or another!