A FAMILY MAN
As the students ran out into the rain, Holden Elliot sat in the driver’s seat of his Oldsmobile.
Fair warning: Oldsmobile is going to be the new bifocals. This car will be called “Oldsmobile” for the rest of the book. I might as well add it to the drinking game.
The weather had an effect on him.
What effect?
It always did when it rained in L.A.
All thirty-five days a year.
For him, it brought back the burden of fifty-five years, and it was clobbering him with reminders of misfortunes and screw-ups.
Should I even make the “it’s clobberin’ time!” joke?
Clobbering him like Gavin O’Rourke did a month before at Shamrock Pub,
No really. Stop saying clobbering. It’s not lending any gravitas to this scene.
right before he returned to the Corporation. It was an incident that was at once funny, unusual, and almost cosmic.
STOP TELLING US HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THINGS! Especially things we haven’t even seen yet!
In his mind, he turned the knob of his memory bank back to that night.
Memory banks…don’t have knobs?
He was seated at the bar, the keeper going about doing whatever he was doing.
What Connor is actually saying here is “I don’t drink, I’m not old enough to have been in a bar, and I’m too lazy to try to even imagine what barkeeps do.”
How do I know this? Because I have actually had this specific problem! I don’t drink much and I’ve been in all of two bars in my life, and when I have scenes in which characters visit bars, I’m not sure exactly what should be going on. Know what I do then? I research. I look up barkeepers’ blogs; I talk to friends who do barkeeping; I read books with scenes set in bars. If I need more detail than that, I’d call a local bar and find a barkeep who didn’t mind me watching him work for a couple hours. Most people love that someone would be interested enough their jobs that they’d go to the trouble of coming into their place of business and taking notes, and almost everyone thinks that being included in a real book is the coolest thing ever. I have never been refused a request to go do research at someone’s job. In fact, most of them suggest the best times to come over and are incredibly helpful about explaining what they’re doing once I get there.
The glass of whiskey he held in one hand was a dangling pocket watch.
Where does a pocket watch dangle? Usually from one’s hip. So unless Holden’s so plastered that he’s forgotten he’s holding the glass and it’s now spilling all over the floor, this image doesn’t work.
It had caught his eyes, and he noted in his mild stupor that in the liquid, he saw his reflection. He had lost count of the number of drinks he had, but he was certain that he wasn’t in Shamrock long. Time flies when you waste away, he thought. There was an old television set dangling from the ceiling
Dangling like a pocket watch!
Maybe “dangling” means something else where Connor’s from.
in the corner, blaring the local news. The Grants still hadn’t lost their fifteen minutes, as they were essentially the face of the City of Angels.
By this point, I had already forgotten who the Grants were (they’re Lilith’s rich parents). Now they are not only rich, but apparently political. I wish the story had taken this opportunity to fill in what exactly they were doing on television. For all we know, they might have just been arrested.
“The inside of this piece of shit stinks of you. Do a better job at hiding it.”
So did Holden’s flashback just flashback to something Eva told him earlier this morning? Maybe she says this a lot. Maybe it’s her typical morning goodbye and it’s a father/daughter in-joke. Otherwise it’s out of place here.
Before Cheryl had left the two of them, he was what he called a “moderate”, only indulging himself at special occasions
Should be “indulging himself only…” ‘Only’ modifies the clause or noun that directly follows it. It’s the difference between “Only I eat doughnuts” and “I only eat doughnuts.”
or in intimate moments with her. After what happened at Hollenbeck, particularly the first couple of years, he became an animal. So did Eva.
Holden saw Eva stepping out of the main entrance of the school. What she had said to him this morning was a dagger that twisted muscle and flesh throughout the day. I shouldn’t talk to her about it. Even remotely mentioning or referencing this morning is enough to make her lock the door to her room for the rest of the night. As she drew closer to the Oldsmobile,
Drink!
Also you should probably start a new paragraph at “As she drew closer…”
he found himself in a state of stage fright, uncertain of what to say next. He took a deep breath, and subsequently coughed. Palm trees were crying near the sidewalk through the windshield. The wipers were on, shoving the sadness aside.
Eva opened the passenger door without a word, and took a seat, slamming the door shut.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Without a word, Holden made his way out of the row of waiting cars, and onto the street.
“So how was school today?” he asked.
Eva response was immediate, almost automatic: “Fine.”
Other than the booming of the outside thunder and the rumbling of the engine, there was silence. “Would you mind if I put some music on?” he asked.
“I don’t mind,” she automatically replied.
After he turned on the POS radio, the beats of Fleetwood Mac’s “Family Man” began to fill the Oldsmobile.
Drink!
Walk down this road… when the road gets rough…I fall down… I get up…
Connor is going to be deeply disappointed when he finds out how much it costs to get the rights to include song lyrics in your work of fiction. Stephen King does it a lot, but Stephen King also has more money than God and guaranteed bestseller status for every book.
The Prometheus Corporation couldn’t have got him back in the game at a better place than Shamrock. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d find a man who made his way from Old Eire
Just as people from L.A. don't call it the City of Angels, Irish people do not refer to Ireland as Eire.
to do some good for the world with science, he thought.
Because Ireland is solidly populated by maudlin drunks. The only scientists in Ireland are employed exclusively by the Guinness company to handle quality control.
It was a month ago, but to him, it felt like it just happened.
That's because it did just happen. A month ago.
I'm wondering if Connor's belief that events that happened only a month ago are practically prehistoric is related to his belief that he has thoroughly turned his life around and is a new man after taking only a week's hiatus from whatever internet forum he's been hounded from.
It had burned into his skull, along with the headaches. At that moment, as he drove the Oldsmobile,
Drink!
I really don’t understand this. Is the make of the car significant or does Connor think we’ve forgotten what it is since the last time? Just say “as he drove” and be done with it!
he could feel one beginning. Keep your mind on the road.
“It’s a little corny, isn’t it?” Eva asked.
“Huh?”
“The music,” Eva continued. “It’s… never mind.”
Even the characters are pointing out how dumb it is to rely on song lyrics to indicate mood.
I am what I am, am what I am, am what I am… A family man…
Trying to get through the thick armor that Eva had constructed was no small task. He had realized this over the past four years. Four years of short sentences, smart-ass remarks, and so on.
Hook your sentence fragment onto the preceding sentence: “He had realized this over the past four years of short sentences, smart-ass remarks, and so on.” The repetition of four years really isn’t adding anything. Repetition rarely does. And would it kill you to be more specific than “so on”?
Holden let out a low sigh, and kept his eyes on the road.
###
They were distant, and yet in the same room. She was staring up at the ceiling from the couch, and he was in the recliner, eyes locked on her. This was their weekly father-daughter therapy session. As a man knowledgeable in the link between the physical and the psychological, Holden figured that he would someday put it to good use.
Wait, is he for shiz his own daughter’s psychologist? Is this an actual therapeutic setting? Not just them talking through things after school? No, no, no! There are valid reasons establishing professional boundaries between therapist and client! You fail psych forever, Story!
“What am I doing on this couch, other than just taking up air?” Eva asked. Her tone of voice was gaunt, like her body.
“You tell me,” Holden replied.
“I don’t really see the point of talking to you when there’s nothing to talk about,” Eva said. Her eyes, once trained on the ceiling, shifted to him. The bags underneath them were canyons.
Repeating a description used back in Chapter Two.
“I wonder why I’m even doing this.”
“Don’t you remember? This our time to let loose, to purge--”
“I get it,” Eva said. “Expurgation, cleansing, exorcism… Catharsis.”
“I take it you’ve let it consume your day,” Holden commented.
“I have my reasons. A whole smorgasbord of reasons. Number one, the whole concept—a mish-mash of sessions like this and screwing with genes… It raises a lot of questions.”
“What kind?” Holden asked.
“Nothing pretty. What’s the point of fixing people that are FUBAR?”
Holden didn’t respond.
In addition to being a really unethical therapist, you’re also a really bad therapist, Holden.
“Okay, then,” Eva said as she sat up on the couch. “Why me?”
“I told you that I wouldn’t get you too deeply involved,” Holden said.
Oh, why ever not? Considering you’re already playing therapist in your own home to your daughter while discussing breaking every goddamn ethical oath to bring her into a dangerous psychological experiment you seem to be in charge of developing, I’d say you’re already balls-deep in this mess.
Deeply involved were two words that Eva was not particularly fond of.
“Well, you aren’t too deeply involved with me.”
Except that he’s your therapist. And your father.
Eva’s reply was cutting in its cynicism.
I’ve also come to believe that “cynicism” means something else in Connor’s part of the world.
“You’ve thought of it, haven’t you? About taking me to Babel Plaza.” Babel Plaza was the nickname for the Prometheus Corporation building in Century City.
Thanks for sharing, helpful exposition! Not like that could have waited until we actually saw the place in the text.
Holden didn’t respond.
Worst. Therapist. Ever.
I know why we keep having Holden not responding. It’s to make it plain that Eva’s statements are so brilliant and logical that Holden can’t refute them.
“Well?” Eva’s voice was probing.
“I’ve considered it.”
“Considered what? Having me volunteer?” Her voice had sharpness to it.
No response.
“What the fuck do you think I am, Dad? Your daughter or a goddamn lab rat?”
And this is why you don’t play shrink to your own daughter.
Her voice juxtaposed with the outside thunder in its loudness.
That is not what “juxtaposed” means. Again, I suspect Connor originally used “contrasted” and then relied on the synonym function.
“Eva!” Holden exclaimed, beginning to rise from his chair.
“Get away from me!” Eva bolted from the couch and ran out of the living room. She was headed upstairs. Holden could tell from the footsteps. As he went after her, he cursed at himself in his mind. His mind went back to the Shamrock, and he could see himself bruised and wasted on the hard floor. As O’Rourke was being shoved out the door, he had heard the bartender tell him to get the fuck out. That was the last time he’d been at Shamrock.
Wait, so now we’re finally getting the end of that story?
There’s a scene in a very early Piers Anthony book where Our Hero’s friend is in some immediate danger—he’s being mauled by a bear while on fire or something equally lethal—and, as the hero is sprinting to the rescue, he passes a clump of plants. He immediately recognizes these plants from his youth, and he remembers how he tried to grow them because they had the magical power to turn into a lithe, willing nymph that you could fuck, and how his mother found out and disapproved and made him let the nymph go unmolested but his father took him aside and said it was all right, that he’d tried the same experiment when he was a lad, and how women just don’t understand these boyish impulses but one day he’d learn that the love of a good woman was more satisfying than mere willing flesh and meanwhile this flashbacks’s gone on for three pages and his friend is still being mauled by a bear.
Say it with me, learn it, love it, embroider it onto a pillow and sleep on it: NOTHING YOUR CHARACTER REMEMBERS IS AS INTERESTING OR IMPORTANT AS WHAT THEY’RE DOING RIGHT NOW.
As he hit the stairs, he heard a door slam. The bathroom.
Reaching the door, he turned the knob, but the door failed to open.
“Eva, open the door!” He could hear the sound of water running in between his bangs.
As he ran his fingers through his graying hair,
This juxtaposition of “bangs” and “running fingers through his hair” (and see? That’s a correct usage of “juxtaposition”) enforces the mental image that Holden’s hair is soaking wet and water is dripping between his bangs-as-in-fringe, meaning that Holden has cute flippy schoolgirl bangs. Maybe it’s just me. At this point I have to entertain myself as best I can.
a frightening possibility played out in his mind. No. Not again. I’ve got to stop this before it begins.
He turned and ran down the stairs, into the kitchen. There, his head surveyed the room quickly.
Your head does not survey things. You do. At the very least, your eyes do. Your head merely turns to facilitate the action.
He needed something to bust the door open.
We kind of picked up on that. There’s no need to tell us what he’s doing. Just have him do it. I promise you, we are not stupid people; the moment Holden picks up a heavy object, our instincts will kick in: oh, he’s going to try to break down the door with it.
Acting on instinct, he picked up the spare chair from the table, the same one that Cheryl had sat in. He went back up the stairs, the legs of the chair in both hands, his feet briskly touching the steps.
*waves hand Jedi-style* These are not the words you were looking for.
Jesuschristletherbefineletmybabybefine
I…actually don’t mind this? It’s a realistic thought to be having, and the lack of space and punctuation conveys panic. I might have used “okay” instead of “fine” and the readability suffers a bit from the stylistic choice, but otherwise…this is fine.
(I could be a little bit bitchy and point out that this particular stylistic device was also in Silence of the Lambs when Clarice Is panicking in Gumb’s basement, but meh. It’s used in a lot of books and he could have picked it up anywhere. Let’s save our plagiarism accusations for the next chapter.)
He was standing at just a few feet from the door,
Using the past-progressive is a poor choice. To-be conjugations have a tendency to slow the action down, and this is an action sequence. “He stood just a few feet from the door…” would be better.
taking some deep breaths before heading into the potential carnage that lay ahead of him.
…and the prepositional phrase adjuct with all the fucking gerunds just slows us down more. Using a gerund (verb ending with –ing) in this sense just adds an invisible to-be conjugation to your sentence: “He was standing and (was) taking deep breathes before he (was) heading in.” Remember what I just said about to-be? And you were doing so well!
Also, it’s been less than a minute. She’s probably had time to hurt herself by now, but I doubt there’s been time for anything so dramatic as carnage.
He hesitated raising the chair, but went ahead and did it.
“He hesitating in raising the chair, but went ahead and did it.”
Also that sentence is bad and you should feel bad.
He lurched ahead, banging the chair against the door
Which you could have done a whole sentence ago if we hadn’t had to sit through you hesitating to raise the chair before you raised the chair. ACTION SEQUENCE. SNAPPY-SNAPPY
pleasegoddon’thurtyourselflikebefore
Okay, still not having any problems with this but maybe lose the apostrophe in “don’t.” You’re already throwing grammar to the wind! Send the punctuation flying after it!
Bang… bang… bang… and then, finally, a breakthrough.
Was that a pun? GODDAMMIT COSTER DON’T YOU DARE SLAP YOUR KNEE.
Now there was a massive gaping hole.
Okay, that’s…a wee bit too dramatic, even for someone who thinks his daughter’s committing suicide on the other side of that door. Either you’ve got some sturdy-ass chairs or some flimsy-ass doors. Either way, probably a bit more realistic to have the lock pop rather than the door break.
Through that hole, he saw his daughter, sitting naked in the bath tub,
This book sure likes Eva to be naked. I’m not sayin’; I’m just sayin’.
the shower nozzle spraying her skeletal form, whose back was facing him. He couldn’t tell the difference between the water and the tears rushing down her hollow cheeks. He was relieved, but at the same time, still shocked by what he had seen.
This was because Holden suddenly realized he was staring into a fourth-dimensional tesseract where he could see his daughter’s back and face at the same time.
“Eva…?”
She said nothing, instead staring straight down into the drain. Holden put his hand through the hole,
What hole? The hole in space and time? Is there really a tesseract here?!
turning the knob on the other side.
Oh. The hole in the bathroom door. My bad.
He sat himself down on the toilet, by the pile of Eva’s clothes. The frowning smiley t-shirt stood out the most. Tears began to form in his eyes. He had never seen his daughter like this. Not at all.
“I... can’t… do it…” Eva’s voice was labored and low.
“Do what?” Holden asked.
“I can’t make myself be with Mom.”
Oh my god.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?
THIS IS A COMPENTENTLY WRITTEN AND EMOTIONALLY VALID SCENE.
I...I can’t deal with this. My hands are shaking. I am experiencing a feel here. It is a little feel, one that will be all too easily snuffed by what I know awaits me in the next chapter, but it is a real feel. I’m so happy!
###
Another slightly peculiar scene break but it’s not entirely out of place and I’m willing to let this story get away with a lot after my astonishment with the last scene.
Eva found that she didn’t have the strength in her to walk, so Holden had no other option but to carry her to her bed. The rain outside had calmed down. Through a combination of luck and choice, another incident like what happened three years ago had been averted.
But you just said you’d never seen her like this before. Now you’re saying something similar happened three years ago.
As he held her now toweled
Should be “now-toweled”.
form, he was bombarded with memories of that afternoon when he found his daughter unconscious on the floor from overdosing on pills. The images kept coming at him, even when she was resting in her bed now, with him at her side. Several minutes had passed, and Eva’s tears had subsided. She could bring herself to speak.
Okay, that’s like three paragraphs, all of which actually need a little padding. It’s a very emotional scene. We need some aftercare, and nice, slow sentences will do the trick. This feels a bit rushed.
“Krieger.” That was the first thing she had said.
Why are we switching tenses again? Don’t make me regret saying nice things, Story.
“Krieger? What about him?” Holden asked.
“You do want me to consider volunteering for Catharsis, right? Tell me the truth. You owe me.”
Holden let out a deep sigh, and said, “Yes. It’s your choice whether you want to join. I can’t influence you to make a decision. It’d be against the ethics of my job.”
You’ve long ago established your decision to forgo ethics, Holden.
“How soon can I go to Babel?” Eva inquired.
“Under the circumstances, I’d make arrangements for tomorrow.”
“Is there anything I need?”
“Yes,” Holden replied. “Your psych-profile, for starters. Medical records. Anything that could help them out should you accept.”
So is she accepting, or are they accepting her? This sounds like she’s submitting an application.
“What about my drawings?”
“Of what?”
She’s been drawing herself like one of your French girls, Dad.
“I have this habit,” Eva said, “of doing sketches of myself. They’re not the best, but they could give you and the other docs insight.
I don’t see how. No really, I got nothing here. I don’t see how art and drawings could be helpful in circumstances where you’ve got a patient who’s verbal and capable of coherent thought.
And another thing—what’s the deal with Klaus Krieger?”
Oh god. It begins.
Suggestions: Rewrite entire book to make Holden main protagonist, since even with the major flaws of this chapter, he’s proven himself to be much more complicated, flawed, and nuanced than Eva.
