What follows is a VERY necessary revision of the first scene from my major work. I received fantastic feedback from my new batch of Creative Writing students in the first Writers' Circle of the year. This revision is based on their feedback. The original scene was very cramped and inelegant, with characters simply appearing fully formed and way too many descriptions and convoluted sentence structures. I hope that this is clearer.
Whereas most of my other posts from this work are out of context, this opening scene should speak for itself. Carson burst from the club, spat out from cramped doors along with dozens of other leather-clad, spiked show-goers. She stomped of thighs devoid of bone and calves without muscle. The exertion of the show, between the kicking, skanking, and all around crowd-sanctioned brawling, left her buzzing with adrenalin but with little muscle endurance left to do anything about it. Only her faith in steel-toed Doc Martins punctuating her legs kept her upright and moving. Her breath, still labored and ragged, erupted from a busted lip into a cloud in the D.C. winter night. Steam rose in plumes from the bodies of the sweaty, panting youth around her. Scanning through the masses yelling to be heard over the damage done to their ears, Carson searched for any sign of her own group. But all she saw were the patched shoulders of those towering around her. She jostled her way to the curb, unconcerned with the bodies she hip-checked out of the way. Her bee-line path wasn’t likely to upset anyone around her anyway as the crowd slowly redefined natural expectations of personal space after the sardine-can experience of the last two hours. Reaching the curb, she was still surrounded by looming elbows and shoulders and glanced around for a solution to her height problem. Finding what she needed in a broken newspaper vending machine, she threw open the busted door, wedged a boot in the hinged opening, and hoisted her petite frame above the mohawks and liberty spikes topping the crowd around her. A scan around the intersection revealed the motley group of boys she sought. Her heart warmed upon seeing them and her stiff attitude of self-preservation loosened--she couldn’t help it. Anyone who didn’t know better might think they met each other in some online carpooling venture rather than in the oversized desks of a second grade classroom ten years prior. They held together in a loose pack and wore styles and attitudes as varied as the entire club of punks behind her. Two guys at the edge of the group worse leather jackets and were scream-singing and ogling at passers-by. Two others, one with a stiff mohawk and the other in a newsie cap, slap boxed with knees bent in wide stances. In between was an array of plaid and argyle, black and checkered, laughing and sneering. Exactly as each should be. Her boys. Smack in the middle of the group, the slender teen with dark hair one month into needing a cut caught her eye, and Carson thought she could see a physical lightening of his shoulders as his mouth grew a sideways grin and his head jerked in a beckoning gesture. In response, she quickly and with exaggerated facial expressions pantomimed stage-diving of the rusted metal of her perch into the roiling crowd between them. The boy smirked, slight dimples pressing into his cheeks. Satisfying with the reaction, Carson scurried in between darting bicycles and puffing cabs to cross the street, bound over the curb, and launch herself on an unsuspecting back towards the edge of the male group.
1 Comment
Cora
9/13/2018 07:41:05 am
The first paragraph has a lot of detail words, making it hard to keep up with what all is going on. Maybe simple it down a little. I like how you added. 'the oversized desks of a second grade classroom ten years prior.' I think that helps explain some more about the characters you're adding in. Still confusing on how many people she's going over to meet. 5? But the picture you've painted is really good. I can see the crowd she walks through.
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AuthorMs. Jopling teaches English at Broadway High School, eats an unseemly amount of cheese, and laughs as often as possible. Archives
November 2017
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