“Amgine, she's your mother; she'll love you no matter what.” That’s what the social worker named Barbra had told me exactly two and a half hours ago, before she put me on a plane from Chicago to Baltimore. I was so caught up in this thought that I didn't realize the flight attendant was trying to get my attention. I blinked and looked at her, taking my earphones out she repeated, obviously annoyed, “That should be turned off Miss, we'll be landing soon.” She was referring to my music player.I looked at the player in my hand then back at her “Oh,” I said switching it to off then I mumbled a quick “sorry”, she didn't seem to notice though and turned her back to give aid to a mother and her screaming child. I sighed and looked out the window. It was breath-taking in a strange kind of way, we were just above the clouds which oddly resembled something close to broccoli covered in marshmallow fluff, at the thought of food my stomach growl, I hadn't eaten since last night and I was paying the price for it now. Soon enough I was snapped out of my food filled dreams by the pilots’ voice announcing that we'd be landing in Baltimore in approximately 10 minutes.
I really didn't know what to expect when I got to the terminal, I had only seen pictures of my mother, she was pretty, beautiful actually and had left dad just after I turned two, she had wanted nothing to do with either of us, then dad died and she had no other choice but to take me. Then something caught my eye, a piece of white poster board with the words Amgine Carter scrawled across it in messy black cursive, I blinked and looked at the sign again, making sure it said my name, then I looked at the person holding the sign. What I saw freaked me out, it was like I was staring back at my own reflection only 30 years older. She had my blue green eyes and deep mahogany colored hair. Her nose had a little hump in it, just like mine, I resisted the urge to blink again, for I feared that she would disappear just like she did 14 years ago, this was my mother in the flesh. I walked slowly towards her; she had a hard look in her eyes as I finally reached her, I gave her a feeble smile and looked down at my feet feeling very awkward as silence filled seconds tick by.
“You’re late.” She said her voice as cold as her gaze.
I looked up at her, it took me a minute to register what she had said, I glanced down at my watch, its digital numbers read 11:45, and I was supposed to have met her at 11:15.
“The flight was slightly delayed.” I replied, this wasn’t exactly the first sentence I had planned on saying to my mother, what I had in mind was a speech, but I would have settled for a “Hello” anything but ‘The flight was slightly delayed’.
She looked at me, really looked at me since I arrived; a quick flash of shock distorted her face as if she had just realized that I looked like her. She quickly regained her composure, she was only about an inch taller than I was but still somehow managed to look down her nose at me.
“I see, well, do you have all of your belongings?” she asked trying to fake a smile.
I had already gotten my luggage and my other belongings were being shipped to her house. I nodded “Yes.” I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
She didn’t notice I had said anything, she had her hand up to her face, it took me a moment to realize that she was on the phone “Yeah…I’m at the airport…yeah…just picking up James’ daughter…all right…I’ll see you in the office tomorrow…Bye” then she hung up. Something churned deep inside of me as referred to me as James’ daughter’. My head filled with images of middle aged man with deep blue eyes that brought a certain youth to the aged skin, of a crooked smile and a smooth, comforting voice, then finally I saw him, as his eyes flashed with fear when the car came hurtling towards him, then as he was being wheeled away into the ambulance, these were the images that filled my nightmares every night. After the funeral I had gone days without sleep, to afraid to see his face, afraid of waking up and knowing he was really gone. When I had stepped off the plane I had carried with me a small sliver of hope that I still had someone who cared about me in this world, that I wasn’t completely alone. As the two innocent words James’ daughter slipped from her perfect lips, that little sliver of hope slowly dimmed and then flickered out completely, leaving me alone in the dark.
I don’t know how long the car ride to 372 Rittle Dr took; all I knew was that I had fallen asleep and that my mother’s shiny black Porsche was parked in front of one of the most gorgeous houses I had ever seen. It was a huge two-story house with a perfect eggshell white exterior and taupe shutters. The front door opened and a man stepped out, he looked about my mothers’ age, if not younger. He stepped around to the driver’s side and opened my mothers’ door sweeping her up into an embrace and kissing her lightly. A wave of nausea mixed with confusion washed over me. Who was he? Were they married? Whose house was this? Then he opened my door and held out a hand, at least he was a gentlemen. I took his hand and stood up, he smiled, and it made his entire face light up. He shook my hand “You must be Amgine, I’m John”. I just stared at him, trying hard not to stare at his handsome face “Pleasure to meet you, John.” I would have added something like ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ but that would have been a lie, I knew nothing about this guy. My hand fell to my side; I subconsciously slipped it into the pocket of my jacket. My mother had stepped to my side and had placed her hand on my shoulder; she looked at John and smiled “Could you bring her bags in, I’ll give her a tour of the house”. John nodded and went around to the back of the car.
The inside of the house was even more beautiful than the outside. The walls of the entry way were a deep burgundy. The floors were made of a deep brown cherry wood that glistened in the lighting coming from the overhead chandelier. I stared at the high ceilings and pricey art pieces that were scattered tastefully around the rooms. I almost wanted to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Only the sound of my mother’s voice could have woken me from my marvelous daydream.
“Your room is up the stairs, at the end of the hall on the left, next to the laundry room.” She said, pointing to the wide stairway.
“Thanks” I managed quickly.
Then she was gone, talking on her cell phone again.
**Note: Anything that is Underlined is not a definate detail and may be removed eventually. Oh yeah also, if you steal I will find you and I will press charges for palagarism. Thanks
Interesting so far. I don't
You might try to make your protagonist more sympathetic, if she's meant to be. I didn't get much of a feel for who she is, you know? She just seemed to be drifting through the events occuring around her. Some more insight into her thoughts would help. You have some of that, but not enough, I think.
I liked this one, a lot. I'll
yay angst!
I think Gorzek lies - I understood Amgine's reason for being so out of it. Her dad just died. Her mother's a bitch. She's moved to an entirely new place and knows no one. oh, and her mother's a bitch.
hehe
Thanks for reading,
Lana
Don't threaten me....
First of all, I was a bit turned off by the threat at the end to find me and press charges. It gives me the feeling that you don't trust someone or anyone at this site, or maybe you've been robbed in the past, but I think you can feel safe in sharing your work here, so the "oh yeah" part seemed "extra".
Others already know that I don't care for first person narative too much, and this, along with the second chapter, illustrate one of the problems I have with it. I know way too much about the main character's surroundings, which seem to be a casual setting for her emotions and experiences, but I get no objective view of that person. It was nice that you described her through the description of her mother, but that description makes some of the mother's coldness splash onto the main character, making her cold as well.
The mother says she's going to give a tour of the house and then simply tells her where her room is in words, supposedly because she has received an important business call on her mobile phone. Sorry, can't believe that they simply would leave her to wander about this house without a guide on her first day, especially not the "step-father" who seemed friendly enough and is only bringing in a few bags from the car. In the second chapter you make a comment about something being ironic, oh yes, that the mother had left, but that the girl had ended up in the mother's house and that the father had actually left. Sorry, I don't see what is ironic about that and didn't care being told that I should think it ironic.
I find myself wandering about in the mind of a 16 year old girl who is too caught up in her own grief to notice anything besides the decoration of the new home she's been thrown into. The comments about the other three people we have met do not delve into who they are now as preparation for possible change in any of their personalities in the future. If the change in the story is going to be the bed-cover or the paint job in her bed room, then I would not be very impressed. If the change is going to be from cold mother figure to thawed out adult recognition of earlier errors, or revelation about the mother's true and acceptable reasons for having abandoned her first husband and her 2 year old daughter, then I need to know much less about her taste in furniture and paintings and more about her emotions and history. I think that might be pretty difficult to discuss using the first person narrative, again, another reason to trash it and try an outside voice to tell the story.
Change in adolecents is quite common and sometimes very rapid, they are growing up. Change in an adult who has spent years and years developing whatever character they have is, at least for me, much more interesting. That the girl learns to accept her mother as she is, well, kids are resiliant. That the mother learns to accept a possible mistake in her own past, that takes courage. We'll see where you are taking this (if it is not autobiographical and the story is not yet over because you are in the middle of it....)
peace,
revel.
maybe I should try it at a different POV........but
much appreciated,
Lana
A lot
You mention: "I'm not sure how many teens would want to read from the mother perspective" and I answer, probably a lot. Any teen already knows what the girl is feeling, going through, but so many teens need to understand the same situation through the adult's eyes. You might think that, because you are a teen, you can best present the girl's thoughts and emotions, but that is not true: if you cast your imagination into the role of the mother you will find the frustrations and conflicts that that character is suffering in the situation. And, those may very well be the ones that the teen reader needs to be told about. Teens can be so self-centered (sorry, I am 50 years old and work with teens, so I have my prejudices, hehe) and writing the story from the point of view of the mother might just get that girl out of her own grief and on with her life.
Does the mother every feel guilty for having abandoned her daughter and husband so many years ago? Has the mother felt that she is over those original feelings, only to find them surging out again through the death of her first husband (whom she must have loved at some time in her past) and the need to care for her daughter (whom she carried in her womb for nine months and then felt slip out and heard cry for the first time). If she is such an important woman, why didn't she just look for some kind of foster care for her daughter, instead of taking on a teen who will probably only bring her emotional (and logistical) problems? Might she not be worried that her new husband would concentrate on the new girl in the house? How is the arrival of the new girl going to change the house rules? These are the points that you don't even come close to addressing, and though they may seem secondary to you, they would be a very interesting set of facts to help your young adult reader understand what is ahead of them in life, not just what is going on right now in high school, but the complications that arise after graduation, and boys, and cheerleading, and nice bedrooms. Get yourself out of the girl's head and into the mother's head and you will get a better grasp on what is going on in the girl's head.
Maybe make them "soul-sisters", something deeper than mother/daughter....truth is they have never been mother/daughter, so they almost have to start from zero in developing their relationship. In the end, though, you're going to have to define the mother figure a lot more if you want us to swallow the relationship that the daughter has with her. And I think it's a good idea to alternate the points of view, maybe not each chapter (though that is a good start and structure), but maybe with each event that occurs.
Good luck with the writing.
(yes, I have edited this post, highlighting all the words that I think make my comments suggestions and not dictations. Take away those words and you would find me telling her how to do things, leave them in and you will find that I am offering many alternatives that she can try out if she wants to....)
peace,
revel.
I appreciate
-Lana
Slightly younger adult perspective
The limitations of the first person have always been that "I" is always biased towards themselves. That's just a fact of it and there's nothing any reader can do except acknowlege that fact and move on.
The fact that Amgine is so young, and just lost her family and her home and is now living with a complete stranger who is a bitch, I can see where she is coming from - why she chooses to focus on the decorations or the wallpaper. Distractions to keep from thinking about her total misery. Her life, as she knew it, is over. She has to begin again completely. Losing a parent isn't an easy thing at all. That's the one who is supposed to protect you and love you unconditionally, and now they're gone. Now she's in a house with a woman who wants nothing to do with her but may as well be a mirror.
However, you probably should have some reason for the mother to have not taken Amgine on a tour of the house.
In the end, it all comes down to understanding your character's motivations.
Go take a look at Gorzek's 200 question character sheet and see if you can fill it out (for the questions that apply) for all the characters you've established so far.
The adult perspective isn't that difficult. Being 24, I'm less crotchety and more willing to read a bit of good angst on occasion.
Depending on what type of person the mother is, she may not even be any more mentally mature than her daughter. Or, she might have some very good reasons for having left Amgine.
What you need to do is find out what her reasons are. Why did she leave, why has she taken Amgine in NOW of all times?
It all comes down to motivations in the end. Adults are merely motivated by things outside of themselves. (sorry to generalize here...) Teens are usually motivated by self-gratification. Adults do it too, but with different pressures exerted on them. The need to have shelter, insurance, pressures of a job, getting the payments on the house and car on time... Teens worry about whether this top makes me look fat, and whether Jonny likes me or not and getting schoolwork in on time.
Am I making sense?
Dictating?
Well, I have reread my comments several times and they still seem like suggestions to the writer to help get a grasp on the many different levels that could be available in the story. I use "might" and "maybe" a lot, which certainly doesn't sound to me like dictaing. And I will point out, it is true, teen-literature is not my bag at all, but I am not asking that the story be written to suit what I want (I have in my blog heavily defended the creater's right to write for him/herself), am simply trying to explain the feeling I get of "incompleteness" and suggesting exercises that the writer might do for him/herself to "fill in the blanks" that this reader felt.
Of course, the writer must write the story as he/she feels fit to do, but that does not excuse the writer from the mental work that might not get onto the page. I'm not one to say "you forgot a period here" or "you spelled that word wrong" or "copy edit", I have to do that for a living, where those details are more important than the actual content of the writing. So, my comments may not seem like what is expected in "constructive criticism", but they are, indeed meant to be constructive and I am sorry that they may have sounded like "dictating how to write the story", something I certainly would not let anyone do to me. But then, seeing that few bother to leave comments on my contributions, despite spending time reading others' works and trying to contribute to the development, I guess that either no one cares or no one has anything to say.
In any case, the writer writes, the reader reads, the reader can not tell the writer how to do what he/she is doing, the writer can not control how the reader reacts to the material. We are at an impass. Sorry I couldn't have been of more help. Don't take my comments as advice, don't bother to reread them and certainly don't try to do the exercises I have suggested. (I am a devil!)
peace,
revel.
I think your comments here
Won't limit myself
"if the subject matter or perspective is not your cup of tea, there's not much to say, is there?"
there is always something to say. Perhaps Aloria has said it in more acceptable words than I, but we are saying the same thing, we are missing the motivations for the actions of some of the most important characters of this story. Otherwise, we are faced with a distraught teenaged girl, her bitchy mother, a possibly helpful step-sister (who might later become evil and jelous) and that oddly friendly step-father (who might become a child molester, who knows?), stuff of Saturday afternoon "based on real events" dramas that one sees on TV, good for a nap but not all that "interesting". My comments, misinterpreted, my fault I admit, were not "I want you to write this story this way or about this person", they were meant to lead this writer to think, something she has admitted to doing but which, in my opinion, she has more yet to do. That's all. She can write the story however she wants to, she can limit herself into thinking that she can only use the pov of the teen because she is a teen if she wants to, she can do whatever she wants to.
I guess I feel a little attacked, and believe me all, I have read and reread all of the posts in this thread and don't see why, unless as I have mentioned elsewhere, we are only looking for "this is great but" and copy editing comments. On the other hand, have to ask myself if I am unable to take what I dish out, but also do not think that is the case, and no one has been able to convince me of it yet....keep trying!
peace,
revel.
"On the other hand, have to
Well, you did state very clearly that you don't really want any criticism of your work at all, just for people to state how it made them feel. :P
Also, it's probably important to remember that this is only the very start. You're obviously not going to be given all details about all characters straight away.
In saying that, there were some good points you made.
I guess I just don't understand why both you and Lana seemed to take thigns so seriously. There are always going to be suggestions about things to change that you don't like. There are always going to be people who disagree with your comments.
Just take what advice you can from it, and ignore the rest.
I think
Pythia,
I think you are exactly right. stupid me for not keeping this in mind. Thank you.
-Lana
Not stupid at all. I've been
hm
but there are just some things that seemed strange to me
the adress is kind of awkward, but i guess that could be ok considering that she is feeling awkward in her surroundings
also, the fact that her mother placed a hand on her shoulder at the end didnt seem right
the impression that i got was that she was cold and indifferent so i felt that the putting the hand on her shoulder was a little too intimate for me
other than those little thigs this is pretty good so far
i do agree with other readers, that i dont really get a good solid idea of who the main character really is
im hoping i will learn more about her as i continue to read :)
happy writing
hmm
Short and Sweet
As far as spelling goes, the only glaing error I notcied was in the very first paragraph when you mention how hungry she is :"at the thought of food my stomach growl". There appears to be no grammatical errors.
The main character does feel a little vague at this point, but if it is a larger piece of work then you can fill the details in on later chapters. I think the lack of details just makes the piece more ominious. Anyway, just my opinion.
Apart from this nice piece of writing:)
Pretty good so far,
I agree that it could use some editing - some of the paragraphs are really long, and punctuation is your friend, but those are cosmetic things. You've got the essence of the experience your main character is having down very well.
Looking forward to seeing where this goes!
Fyn