Mandy asks…
How to make my chapter intriguing and longer?
The room was colourful with bright coloured walls and hip new furniture. The therapist told me to sit on a large bean bag so I dutifully obeyed her. I kept fiddling with the bean bag and trying to get comfortable, whislt she was reading her papers and sitting on a normal chair. I was ignorantly jealous and mad that she was oblivious to my discomfort. She was suppose to help me, right? I coughed impatiently, trying to get her attention. Stupid therapist wouldn't even pay attention to me. Oh well, at least I'm not paying for the session. Finally she looked up from her papers at me with a sympathetic expression but her eyes told a different story. She looked bored behind her blank face. "Do you know why you are here?" she said slowly, like I was a dumb little child. By then I'd just had enough. That was the last straw, something just snapped inside me. So I replied, "Because my mum is a dumb bitch who thinks I have an alcohol problem!" It was true, my mum thought I was an out of control alcoholic. Actually, scratch that, she didn't. She just wanted revenge for me throwing her stilettos in the bin, and that was only because she insisted I lived with her and my brothers because apparently my apartment wasn't good enough for her, and the list goes on... Don't get me wrong, I loved my mum and I didn't really mean what I said. The fights and revenge was just a little game we liked to play. A therapist was crossing the line though. She knew alcohol didn't effect me so much as humans, but that of course, fell on deaf ears. "Calm down, we can--," the therapist began but I didn't care what she had to say. I stood up from the stupid bean bag and made a beeline towards the door. I actually felt a little sad for the woman as I looked behind my shoulder, but I shook the thought out of my mind. Opening the door, I said, "Oh, and you're a crappy therapist. You spend more time on your papers than your clients!" I knew I shouldn't have said that because I hardly knew her, but that look on her face and the way her mouth made an O was just priceless. All I could think about was how to get revenge on my loving mother, pssh. I didn't mean either of the things I said before, but I was just stressed. I furiously walked to my silver Volvo, reminding myself to walk at human speed. I could've told my mother that I didn't want to see a therapist and gave her a threat if she didn't cancel the session, like tipping her car with a little flick of my finger. But that wouldn't be any fun, now would it? Without the fun game my mum and I would play, there would be no communication, and communication is better than no communication. I was known to hold grudges, but who do you think I got it from? See, sometimes I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed and it only takes one small thing for me to snap. When something screws up in your life you can't help but think about how crap your life is, I thought. Sad but true. My parents got divorced when I was young, about eight years old. Dad re-married not long after the divorce to a young lady. Several years later and two more kids later, he divorced again and he's had lifeless one night stands ever since. That's why I had two brothers and two half brothers. It didn't matter if they were half or not, they were my brothers and if anyone messed with them I would make them pay. I drove onto Mum's driveway and turned the car off. I closed the door lightly, remembering what happened before when I was pissed. I stomped into the house, not caring to be quiet. While in the kitchen, I placed my keys on the bench. I walked down the hallway and peeked into my mum's room. No one there. The house suddenly felt eerily quiet, and it was. "Mum?" I walked down the hallway, looking into all the rooms, flinging doors open. I stood motionlessly in the hallway and listened intently for a heart beating, breathing, anything. I could hear a human in the bathroom so it was obviously my mum because my brother's weren't human either. I ran to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. "You better not be hiding from me." As I opened the door to thebathroom I didn't see anything out of place, except for Mum's stiff body lying on the floor. "Shit!" I kneeled down next to her. I could hear her breathing lightly and her heart thud, thud, thudding so she was alright. I raced back down the hallway with inhuman speed and called Ryan, my eldest brother, with shaking fingers. "Hello?" "Ryan! Oh God, it's me, Jane!" I couldn't help the nervousness and shock that leaked with every word I said. "I think Mum hit her heard or something. She's in the bathroom and she's breathing." There was a moment of hesitation and talking on the other side of the phone before he answered. "I'll There was a moment of hesitation and talking on the other side of the phone before he answered. "I'll be there in a minute. Just get a bucket of water and pour it over her head," he told me, trying to sound calm. "Anything to wake her up." Translation: Cast a spell if you have to. I've posted this question before and someone told me they didn't like it because it didn't explain what the she (the main character) was, but I'm going to get to that after she casts a spell for her mother. So what do you think? Is it a good start?
Our pick of the answers:
I do like it! To be honest there were two points that kinda threw the story off and I had to tweak it in my head, but it was just that "Several years later and two more kids later..." part. I would, if I were you, change that to "Several years and two more kids later..." And also, a bit larger, it was between the 7th and 8th paragraph. Now, the transition from talking about her family to instantly going to driving up to the house is a bit too choppy. I think what you were going for is almost as if her arrival at her mother's house broke her from her thoughts, but I think I would indicate that more if I were you, rather than jumping. It almost feels like you are making a curvy plot line with your story, and suddenly it just breaks for a moment, you know what I mean? So I would add in at least a small "I shook these thoughts away, turning onto my mother's drive..." or what have you. Now, aside from being picky, I guess I should comment on the story. I'll admit I'm a bit confused as I don't really know what's going on, but it is obvious that you are intentionally doing that which only boosts intrigue for me, which is a good thing. I like that you've left a lot of open spaces here, and have me wondering why the main character (Jane) and her mother continually play this game, why her mother was on the floor, why she drinks so much, and, of course, what she is. The plot, so far, is interesting, but one thing worries me. The constant reference to not being human, strong and fast, and then the silver Volvo made me wonder if you were writing a fan fiction for Twilight, until I saw that your main character was not Edward Cullen. I would, were I you, at least change the car, or just simply not describe the car at all and leave that element to your readers' imagination. And yet then again, there are circumstances in which you may wish to keep it that way, which would be fine, of course. So, really, over all, it was a great story, and I do hope to see more. I wish you luck with it, and hope that I could have helped somehow! :D
Sharon asks…
CD and DVD names - who what when where and how?
I have a cd and DVD documentary that I've just completed but I have no names for. Both projects are very womyn centered and sex positive. The cover is of a black womyn with a HUGE afro dressed in a sexy lingerie, stiletto's, heavy make up, crouched in the corner of a kitchen with a joint in one hand, whiskey in the other and a pile of dirty dishes above her. This is a poetry CD with Jazz and Punk Rock beats behind it. The DVD is about the life of the womyn on the CD cover. I really want witty and "envelope pushing" titles. Thanks
Our pick of the answers:
Makes me think of Betty Davis. Http://www.o-dub.com/images/bettydavis3.jpg She was kind of precursor to pop stars like Madonna or something. Maybe call it something like F*ck Who? Or Black, Bitchy and Bangin'
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