The day I left, I cut up every single piece of clothing she had bought me with his money into little shreds. I cut up my sheets, my pillowcases, stabbed the mattress ‘til the stuffing bled out and all the pillows, too. I even shredded my socks and underwear. My mom was silent and white with anger, but I just felt glad I could get her so mad. She deserved it. I didn’t even care that she made me wear clothes from the attic- packed away 3 years ago when I was 10- that I could barely get on. The shirts were so tight and short, they only reached the middle of my ribs, and the sleeves came to just below my elbows. The jeans were the funniest, because they didn’t fit at all. I got them on but split them up the butt the second I sat down. They made a huge ripping sound, like a giant fart, and I spit out my cereal laughing. My sister just rolled her eyes at me, but I could tell my mother was really mad. And I didn’t care. In fact, it made me feel happy to see her mad. I felt even happier when she made me put on the clothes from when I was 10, because it just reminded her of all the things she had done to make me this way. All the things I could have been, if she had only cared about me instead of him. I also knew it would make Dad really pissed to see me like this. Ha, I thought. Serves her right.
We drove the whole five hours west in silence. We stopped for McDonald’s, gas, and bathroom breaks without saying a word to each other. My mom had news radio on, but sometimes I could tell that she was crying. A part of me felt this twinge inside, felt…bad. But then I’d remember all the things she promised my sister and I after the divorce: That we would always come first in her life; that just because she started dating her lawyer didn’t mean she had always liked him in that way; that after the wedding we would all be living in a big huge house in New York and we’d all have everything we’d ever wanted; that yes, Daddy would be far away but we’d still get to see him once a month. What a lie. The last weekend I had with my Dad was Christmas, and that was eight months ago. I felt bad about that, too, but again, that was another thing that was mom’s fault.
I guess it won’t make sense unless I explain it.
Erin and I took the bus from X, New York, to X, Pennsylvania, the town my dad lives in now, to visit him for Christmas vacation. I was really excited, because I hadn’t seen him since August. Dad’s a guy’s guy, like me. Not like my step-father, who’s just a geek. A stupid rich geek, who doesn’t like sports at all. But Dad likes to watch football, and play catch, and stuff like that. So I figured if there was enough snow we could go snowboarding, and if not we could go to the park and run around, play touch football, that kind of thing.
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I’m curious to see where
I’m curious to see where you’re taking this to. So far it reads like an angry teenager’s diary rant, almost self-consciously so ("and stuff" "that kind of thing", blaming divorced parents).Â
This reads like a set-up to either a dysfunctional family outing that will go wrong in ways no-one anticipated, or a coming-of-age type story. Either way, please write more!
Needs a "spark" of passion.
Needs a "spark" of passion. I’m not quite sure how to say it. I agree though, it sounds like a teenager’s diary (which isn’t bad.) It’s just….missing something key. I don’t know how else to say it.
 The character talks about cutting up the clothes…but how did she feel? Are the clothes a metaphor? Or are they important to the characters somehow?
 How did the character feel when they were driving away? Everything they’re driving past should be symbols of the things she’s feeling. McDonald’s could easily represent greed and money. A dirty gas station could be a representation of the dirt and grim and running out of fuel the character is feeling. And the order they come in should be important too.
"I don’t think you need to know. Best leave here with your head still full of kitty cats and puppy dogs." -Otis, ‘House of 1000 Corpses’
LOL, after Saturday’s
LOL, after Saturday’s chat, I knew I was off to a bad start because everyone was referring to the main character as "she". Â I wrote him as a he! Â So…that alone has given me a lot to think about in terms of what I want to accomplish and what my limitations are. Â I can and have written men…just not sure I can write an angry teenage boy authentically.
I guess that would be an
I guess that would be an indication that something is not working.
Remember the Sumarians remade their calendar when July brought snow one year….
"I don’t think you need to know. Best leave here with your head still full of kitty cats and puppy dogs." -Otis, ‘House of 1000 Corpses’
Oh, your main character is a
Oh, your main character is a he? Makes me wonder why I automatically assumed he was a she…
It might have been due to interference from seeing your picture next to the excerpt, together with the diary style. Also, when I read about a 13-year-old methodically shredding their clothes, I picture a girl.Â
So the confusion might not (exclusively) have to do with limitations at all. It might just have been your picture.
That’s true - I didn’t
That’s true - I didn’t think of that. Usually clothing is thought of as being an interest of women.
Serious question: is this character gay? Then I can see how he would be really angry and confused about all these new men coming in to his life. Is it possible that he’s attracted to his new step father?
"I don’t think you need to know. Best leave here with your head still full of kitty cats and puppy dogs." -Otis, ‘House of 1000 Corpses’
Petro & Tzi- you guys are
Petro & Tzi- you guys are both right…hmmm…thinking a comment might be too long, maybe I’ll blog it, in case it could help anyone else…
Spas, I also thought this
Spas, I also thought this was about a female and one thing for me was calling the father "daddy". I generally think that as something said by little girls and boys under the age of ten. (unless they’re old southerners like my family)
I read what you wrote about the story line and I think it sounds like a very interesting read. You will have to watch the cliches, though. Although the story line about the boy being hard to manage and being sent to his father is so true to life, you also risk falling into "another one of those stories" and you don’t want that to happen.
How will the father impact the boy’s decision to join the WS group?
Yeah, that’s it.