It was late on a Saturday night when Thrasher, drunk as usual, thought that the last tallboy of high-gravity rotgut beer he’d jut thrown back would be the end of all alcoholic beverage slipping past his charred lips, at least for a month, anyway. Yes, he’d made such promises to himself over his thirty years of drinking but, at fifty-years-old, and sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder, his decision to stop may not even be a conscious one, not where his diseased liver was concerned. The constant vibrato in his skinny arms, and the yolk-colored sclera of his eyes, only served to remind him his days were numbered if he didn’t stop tippling soon.
I'm not saying content isn't interesting, but it feels as if you've smushed more than three sentences together, creating a hard-to-read wad of run-on sentences. I'd hate to think you were doing this just to see what everyone says.It was late on a Saturday night when Thrasher, drunk as usual, thought that the last tallboy of high-gravity rotgut beer he’d jut thrown back would be the end of all alcoholic beverage slipping past his charred lips, at least for a month, anyway. Yes, he’d made such promises to himself over his thirty years of drinking but, at fifty-years-old, and sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder, his decision to stop may not even be a conscious one, not where his diseased liver was concerned. The constant vibrato in his skinny arms, and the yolk-colored sclera of his eyes, only served to remind him his days were numbered if he didn’t stop tippling soon.
It was late on a Saturday night when Thrasher, drunk as usual, thought that the last tallboy of high-gravity rotgut beer he’d jut thrown back would be the end of all alcoholic beverages slipping past his charred lips, at least for a month, anyway.
Whoa. That sentence is a lot for an opener. I have to keep track of Thrasher, drunk, tallboy of high-gravity rotgut (which is a concept that gives me pause all by itself) the end of all alcoholic beverages, charred lips, a month. It's a lot to ask the reader to absorb when they're trying to get their bearings.
Yes, he’d made such promises to himself over his thirty years of drinking but, at fifty-years-old, and sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder, his decision to stop may not even be a conscious one, not where his diseased liver was concerned. Again, sentence 2 has a lot going on. I'm also not sure what the latter half of it it means. His decision to stop drinking may not have been conscious, okay, but I'm unclear if and how his diseased liver telegraphed to him to stop.
The constant vibrato in his skinny arms, and the yolk-colored sclera of his eyes, only served to remind him his days were numbered if he didn’t stop tippling soon. This sentence is better, but still feels like too much.
I decided to bite the bullet and lay out, for all the world to see, the first three sentences from my latest short story, The Fairy in the Alley. Sigh. Bring the pain.
It was late on a Saturday night when Thrasher, drunk as usual, thought that the last tallboy of high-gravity rotgut beer he’d jut thrown back would be the end of all alcoholic beverage slipping past his charred lips, at least for a month, anyway. Yes, he’d made such promises to himself over his thirty years of drinking but, at fifty-years-old, and sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder, his decision to stop may not even be a conscious one, not where his diseased liver was concerned. The constant vibrato in his skinny arms, and the yolk-colored sclera of his eyes, only served to remind him his days were numbered if he didn’t stop tippling soon.
Is this a step in the right direction?
It was late on a Saturday night. Once again, Thrasher found himself to be drunk as usual. He finally came to believe he’d thrown back his last tallboy of high-gravity beer; at least for a month, anyway.He was fifty-years-old but already sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder. His diseased liver, the constant vibrato in his skinny hands, and the yolk-colored sclera of his eyes, only served to remind him that his days were numbered if he didn’t stop tippling soon.
[Critique Game] Post The First Three Sentences of your Short Story
Neater, but I think what's missing is something that leads me to wonder what will happen next.Once more with feeling.
It was late on a Saturday night and Thrasher found himself to be drunk as usual. At fifty years old, he was already sporting a belly resembling a construction boulder. Nearing the crest of liver failure, he finally came to believe he’d thrown back his last tallboy of high-gravity beer; at least for a month, anyway.
I think you'd need to, because without some of that information, a browsing reader has nothing to react to - and unless they're a tame browsing reader, they'll be looking for some angle or hook or reason to read on. If it were mine, I'd be mentioning Asmodeus before the first sentence is over - up in the first half of the first sentence, probably. In a short story I think that would be a valid move, because if I'm right, it's Asmodeus who is going to trigger the reader's interest in Thrasher's life, isn't it? So A is a pretty big player.A little background on the story.
Thrasher is basically a homeless street drunk. He runs into the stricken dark angel Asmodeus in an alley that night. He unwittingly helps Asmodeus suck the souls out of his drug-addicted street pals. Asmodeus, instead of killing Thrasher, decides to keep him as he's a magnet for the low lives out there.
What I'm hoping to illustrate is Thrasher may seem like he has no redeemable values except to the fallen angel Asmodeus. How do I convey this in the first three sentences? Would I even need to?
A little background on the story.
Thrasher is basically a homeless street drunk. He runs into the stricken dark angel Asmodeus in an alley that night. He unwittingly helps Asmodeus suck the souls out of his drug-addicted street pals. Asmodeus, instead of killing Thrasher, decides to keep him as he's a magnet for the low lives out there.
What I'm hoping to illustrate is Thrasher may seem like he has no redeemable values except to the fallen angel Asmodeus. How do I convey this in the first three sentences? Would I even need to?
Fascinating responses.
1. Bringing Asmodeus up in the first sentence would change the POV of the story to him. I guess I can give that a shot and see how it works.
2. If the POV is still Thrasher, then yeah, I do need to mention he's a homeless and hopeless street drunk. The thing is, are people sympathetic to these guys these days? Maybe a magazine whose focus is on the plight of the downtrodden might, I don't know.
1. Bringing Asmodeus up in the first sentence would change the POV of the story to him.
Okay, I'll give it a whirl...this is the start of a fairly tongue-in-cheek short ghost story WIP:
“We forgot what?”
Sir Edwin stared at me over his Royal Worcester teacup. It was a minor miracle that the poor dear hadn’t dropped it; I really ought to have chosen a better moment to launch this bombshell than when he was in the middle of a well-deserved sip of tea.
I'm okay with this, and would read on to find out what it is. I think you'd drop a bombshell rather than launch one.“We forgot what?”
Sir Edwin stared at me over his Royal Worcester teacup. It was a minor miracle that the poor dear hadn’t dropped it; I really ought to have chosen a better moment to launch this bombshell than when he was in the middle of a well-deserved sip of tea.
“We forgot what?”
Sir Edwin stared at me over his Royal Worcester teacup. It was a minor miracle that the poor dear hadn’t dropped it; I really ought to have chosen a better moment to launch this bombshell than when he was in the middle of a well-deserved sip of tea.
Love it. I'd have ended it after bombshell. (We already know he has tea, and the sipping doesn't add anything, plus it slows the nice little current you've built up so cleverly.)“We forgot what?” Sir Edwin stared at me over his Royal Worcester teacup. It was a minor miracle that the poor dear hadn’t dropped it; I really ought to have chosen a better moment to launch this bombshell than when he was in the middle of a well-deserved sip of tea.
If you're trimming the end as suggested, then tweaking the first drop to "It was a minor miracle that the poor dear hadn’t spilled his tea everywhere" or similar could do the biz. Leaving drop free for the bombshell.Thanks, all--I'll pour out the well-deserved sip. I dithered over "launch" versus "drop" for the bombshell, but I'd already used dropped earlier in the sentence and didn't want to repeat a word. Any thoughts?