Hi, I'm writing a, hopefully, funny book about a guy that has always played by the rules of life and got absolutely nowhere. One day he finally snaps and decides to cross over to the dark side and become a master criminal. It's quite a long chapter so I hope that I haven't broken any forum rules, but I would love to hear your opinions on my work. Oh, by the way, the language is a little fruity, so I hope that you aren't easily offended. Thanks a million!

Chapter One

Yesterday (Part 1)

'All rise.'

I stood up and held my breath, it was decision time. Picking up a pair of heavy-rimmed reading glasses, Judge Thomas R. Daley lowered himself into a red leather chair and looked around the courtroom, savouring the moment. He began to speak, slowly and with dramatic effect - this was to be his O.J Simpson moment.

'Having duly considered submitted statements from all parties, it is the decision of this court that application for bankruptcy against Donny Dou...he paused and looked sideways at the Clerk of the Court. They both grinned in unison as he continued with heavy sarcasm...

Donny Douglas be approved.' Sniggering stage-whispers circled the room like a verbal Mexican-wave. Standing in the Court 12 Prisoner Dock (classy, eh?) I couldn't make out the exact wording, but I could guess - and the comments were unlikely to be favourable. Probably something along the lines of...

"Donny Douglas...did he say Donny Douglas?" Oh how they would laugh...

Yet again, I would be subjected to the torturous flashbacks of my teenage schooldays - and Christ, could school be a cruel and vicious place. Numerous times I'd lift my desk lid, only to discover a picture of two dogs copulating, crudely held in place by a well-chewed ball of spearmint gum. Usually accompanied by scrawled words to the effect of...

'DONNY LIKES HIS PUPPY LOVE!'

The teachers were no better. Even at primary school, they'd break up the monotony of their junior crowd control by engaging in little in-jokes. For example, I had always loved to play Cowboys and Indians (back in the days before they were re-named Cow-Persons and Native Americans) and at playtime, I would wait patiently for the teacher to divide us equally into groups of either heroes (Cowboys) - or villains (Indians). Boys selected for the Cowboy group were especially thrilled, as it gave them the opportunity to hunt down the Indians and tie them to the perimeter fence. In other words, they got to practice genocide and ethnic cleansing, albeit within the safety of the school premises and under the watchful eye of Miss Lockwood. Of course, I was usually picked to be an Indian and usually, Miss Lockwood would tell me that for the duration of the game, my name would be Big Chief Crazy Horses. It was some considerable years later that I would figure out exactly why the teaching staff fell about in hysterics as I cheerfully raced around the playground screaming my war cry

"Crazy Horses...a woo ooo...a woo, ooo'

Yup, very droll, my teachers. Still, even at that tender age, I had learnt the value of revenge, so when Miss Lockwood later had to deal with a freshly produced turd, pungently steaming from both legs of my dark grey Woolworth shorts, I like to feel that a certain payback had been achieved.

"It was an accident Miss" I wailed....but we both knew different!

With a loud thud of his toffee-hammer, the judge closed the proceedings.

'Case dismissed.'

I turned to Jason, my court-appointed solicitor; freshly qualified and now jubilant with a first victory under his belt. I hadn't the heart to tell him that for most of the proceedings, I genuinely couldn't decide if was arguing for the defence (me) - or the prosecution (them)!
It's kind of hard to accurately describe Jason. He's very friendly, overly-enthusiastic in a 'brand new puppy' kind of way and has a tendency to look at you with wide saucer-like eyes that only the young can muster. He's probably the least likely lawyer that you could possibly imagine, I see him more as a helper at a Dolphin Sanctuary.
During an earlier recess period, Jason enthusiastically told me that his lifetime ambition was to own a canary yellow Opel Corsa, complete with dustbin lid-sized speakers and a blue-lit LED parcel shelf. I guess that says it all, really...

'So, what does that mean exactly?' I asked.

He looked at me excitedly.

'It means that it's all over...you're free.'

'In what way...free?'

I was still confused. Jason was struggling to contain his excitement and I reluctantly found myself staring at his trousers for a tell-tale wet patch.

'Your debts have all gone, wiped out, cleared....for...ever!'

He was looking at me wide-eyed with an almost evangelical stare. Think Tom Cruise in Last Samurai and you'll get the picture. Then it dawned on me.

'You mean I'm broke' I said.

'Ooooh yes, One hundred percent!' said Jason, briefly forgetting court etiquette and offering me a 'high-five'. It failed miserably, as I stubbornly refused to remove my hands from my trouser pockets. He looked a little crestfallen at my rejection, but quickly recovered, determined to end his day on a high.

'The Judge has written off all of your debts because I managed to convince him that you hadn't got a pot to piss in!'

'But I have, haven't I?' I asked hopefully.

'Absolutely not' said Jason with all the tact that only a twenty five year old could display.

So that was this then. In court-speak, my limited assets were insufficient to meet my extensive liabilities. Put simply, I was well and truly f**ked!
Jason kindly offered to give me a lift home and the journey was memorable, if only for the thirty second bursts of unknown radio channels, as he tried to find one in tune with his musical sensitivities.

'Adele...shit! Fat Essex slag...can't sing...hate her!'

He continued to change station with his left hand, while holding the steering wheel with just one finger of his right.

'Bieber...bollocks! He's a tosser...hate him! F**kin' Donny Osmond clone!'

I winced. It was the Donny thing again, was there no escape? He kept twiddling the dial but to no avail. Debbie Harry came next with 'Atomic' - a particular favourite of mine, but rudely interrupted by a clearly irritated Jason.

What's this shit?

'Blondie' I replied with enthusiasm

'Who? Jeez, who the f**k's that? She sounds like some mom from the f**kin' nineties or sommat'. Probably frickin' dead now anyway!'

I conceded defeat and offered to help.

'Want me to try?'

Jason seemed to appreciate the gesture but shook his head.

'Nah, it's all right mate, I got some CD's in the glove box, move your knees a bit.'

Jason leant across me and proceeded to scoop up a handful of unmarked obviously-pirated CD's. Putting them all onto his lap, the car appeared to steer itself as Jason studiously went through them one by one, apparently oblivious to the road in front of us. I pulled my seat belt a bit tighter and tried to remember the Lords' Prayer. It had been a while.
Suddenly Jason appeared to be have some sort of spasm, as his body jerked sharply from side to side. I was about to grab the steering wheel, when the jerking suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by a something much more frightening. Jason started to rap!

I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe but I still fight all I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
High off on love, drunk from my hate
It's like I'm huffin' paint and I love it
The more I suffer, I suffocate
Right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates
Me, she f**kin' hates me, and I love it, Wait!

'I love Eminem' said Jason. 'Especially his love songs'

I smiled weakly and wondered how Jason would have survived the love songs from my youth. I'm not totally convinced that either Abba or The Carpenters would really have been his thing. His loss, I guess. We pulled up at mom's house, my new but hopefully only temporary, change of address. I stared at the white familiar front door, almost scared to take another step forward. I laughed silently at my own paranoia. Mom was well into her seventies now and it had been more than three years since my last visit. Perhaps time had mellowed her. I allowed myself a few seconds to consider the possibility. Who was I kidding? She'd still be as vile as ever! Although her birth certificate stated her full name to be Florence Elizabeth, Mom had only ever been known to family and friends as 'Flo.' Well, only to family really, as mom wasn't blessed with many friends, mainly due to her waspish tongue, frequent use of colourful language and a 'tell it like it is' philosophy on life. Example? Well, she'd once told Derek, her sadly long-term unemployed neighbour, that he might have more success at interviews if his breath wasn't similar to that of a rotting seal carcass. Or the time that she told Mr Patel, the owner of Patel's Newsagents that he was most helpful - and that the world would be a better place if only all 'Darkies' were like him. Oh yes, very diplomatic was my mother. Growing up, I witnessed many door-to-door salesmen confidently ring our bell, fooled by her slight build and snowy white hair. They never returned...ever!
With a blow of his horn and cheery wave, Jason drove off and I found myself looking down at the brown leather suitcase parked at my feet. Depressingly, it contained all that I owned in the world.
With a heavy heart, I pushed open the familiar iron gate and trudged slowly up the front patch. I smiled briefly as I recognized a friendly face, Albert, our battered garden gnome. Albert with the super-glued head reclining comfortably against the creosoted fence.
Albert had broken his neck as a result of the infamous 1969 space ride, taped to the back of two Astro-Rocket Fireworks.
He definitely cleared all 34 floors of Elliot Heights, our nearby council tower block, but I like to think that Albert went much, much higher than that. What I do know is that what goes up must inevitably come down - and Albert proved to be no exception. His descent to Planet Earth started just above St Mary's Primary & Infants and after almost causing Mrs Trickett, the school lollipop lady to have an involuntary bowel movement, Albert finally landed in the Year 7, Blue Peter tribute garden.
Perhaps my NASA-inspired exploits didn't deserve a ticker-tape welcome home, or a freedom of the city award, but I certainly wasn't expecting an arse-slap from my dad or the flooding tears of shame from my mom. Even worse, I was made to personally apologise for my actions. I listened dutifully as the Mrs Trickett re-told the horror of the day and I lowered my head in mock shame. But as she earnestly explained how she had feared for her life and how would I have felt if, in her words...

'...his helmet had smashed into my face?'

I genuinely couldn't answer that, so I just bit on my lip and took my admonishment with good grace.
My trip down memory lane ended as my mother opened the front door. I took a deep breath, looked her straight in the eye, hoping that she, of all people, would be able to see the pain and emptiness in my soul. I hoped that time had, in some way, mellowed her. She didn't hesitate for a second.

'Well...you've really f**ked up this time then?'

'Thanks Mom, I replied and made my way into the hallway.

What is it about Mothers...they just know everything!

'So, let me get this right. You have lost your job, you have lost your house, you have lost your girlfriend and now you have been declared bankrupt. Is that all?'

I fought back manfully

'You're forgetting something positive Mom.' I paused for full effect.

'I still have you.'

It was at this point that Mom started to cry...and I mean really cry!

People who are easily offended don't read this forum, so no worries there!

The idea sounds sound enough, it's generally nicely written and droll and there's a good sense of character, but it'll need a trim or two before the final version, preferably with the help of someone with editing experience. In particular:

Some of the jokey bits don't quite seem to work. Douglas = Dog-loves (?) ... not sure about that one. At the very least needs a line crediting the creative cruelty of childhood to justify it. The "Crazy Horse" line doesn't scan either (I'm assuming it's meant to be an Osmonds reference, but it's not really that funny on the page and a character that was firing rockets in 1969 should probably be too old to be playing Cowboys and Indians and shitting himself by the time it was released in 1972 anyway ). You could probably lose that paragraph quite easily, or find another reason for your character to take revenge by shitting himself if that's an important character revelation.

The sheer length of the anecdotes is an issue, unless your character is Tristram Shandy... in which case they should be even longer. I actually really like the way you throw in details like the "Year 7 Blue Peter Tribute Garden" and get that your character dwells on the past, but I'd probably cut the "helmet" joke in favour of something that connects it back to the story e.g.

"I hadn't expected my NASA-inspired exploits to earn a ticker-tape welcome home, or a freedom of the city award, but I certainly wasn't expecting an arse-slap from my dad or the flooding tears of shame from my mom. Forty years on, as I braced myself for more emotional fireworks from my mother, Albert seemed to be laughing at me.

As my mother opened the front door, I took a deep breath... "

On a more pedantic and technical note, I don't really understand your choice of paragraph breaks (which admittedly might be down to the forum formatting) and you inexplicably switch tense when describing Jason's character which hopefully is a blip rather than a habit.

Hope that helps: it's an interesting start anyway

Wow..enigmatic..thank you so much for taking the time to review my chapter. You make some excellent points, which I have duly noted. In response to your specific points, here goes...

The 'Douglas-dog love' reference is incorrect and I'm sorry that my writing didn't make that clear. The running joke theme is that Donny was named at the height of Osmond-mania and has suffered ever since. The dog-love pictures in his school desk related to his name being Donny and the hit record Puppy Love. That was the connection. In Chapter Two, Donny meets a girl named Marie and now known as Donny & Marie, it seems that he will never escape his connection.

Yes, in answer to the technical point raised, you are right, the paragraph spacing is due only to the way that is was posted onto the forum.

Hi Handimar.

Well done.

Overview

I was impressed by your writing. It flows well and is very readable. It also shows that you have a mind full of ideas. It's about my era - ish - so I was able to identify with some of the references, if not them all.

The Establishment

The character of the young lawyer is particularly astute. For various reasons, let's for a moment take the fact that he is a lawyer out of the equation. Symbolically he represents well the modern notions of broader power that have been shaped by the behaviour of bankers, politicians, etc - and all of the associated instability among the general population. While there was also waywardness - and corruption - in the 1970s, "authority" was often still perceived as ethical in a "Dixon of Dock Green" way. That many of the great and the good were old and into Vera Lynn, not Eminem, helped them to convince people they were decent.

Education

Some of the themes in your work are seen in a lot of the writing. I loved my primary school but thought my senior school experience wasn't that great. Having read quite a bit on here now, I'm beginning to feel that even the latter wasn't too bad. A part of me wonders if alienation in education can be overstated but that could just indicate the distance other experience brings by middle age. I do accept that school can be a tough time mentally because of inexperience and youthfulness. Donny Douglas, therefore, isn't implausible.

Mothers

The evil mother is another theme that seems to crop up often. It exists in life. It also features a lot in myth. I accept it as presented but, much like anything, it would probably benefit from the addition of some light.

Shitting

What I have found genuinely astonishing is the amount of emphasis people place on basic bodily functioning. Really. I hardly ever think of my bowels and never did. Perhaps there is something terribly wrong with me.

Swearing

What I asked myself was whether any parent in the early 1980s would be effing and blinding in the home much. The answer is "actually, yes" - the parents of a mate of mine did - and the rest of us thought it highly unusual. It wasn't how radio and television were then and there were no films on video or computers. At football it was different. Perhaps see Nick Hornby for how different that football world seemed? It could be argued that I am describing a lower middle class experience but it was also true of my direct working class experience. Families in/near tower blocks did not often swear although people did during their work in the street markets. That's "my" London. Maybe it was different in, say, industrial areas or poor rural areas?

Vocabulary

Also, Donny when older speaks with quite a rich general vocabulary considering he came from that kind of background. Again, that is not implausible but probably not the norm. Had he moved up along the way?

Tower blocks

The 34 floors of the tower block in your story left me doubtful. There were no council owned tower blocks of that height throughout the 1960s but a few tall ones were built during the 1970s including one of 43 floors.

Music and Time

My main concern is the music because I really do think the timing might be awry. If Donny was named after Donny Osmond, he was born in the early 1970s. Did kids around 1980-1981 really know who Donny Osmond was then or have him in mind so vividly? It was Adam Ant and the Duranies, surely? Similarly, I'm not sure whether the love songs of Abba and the Carpenters were really the love songs of his era. It just about works with Abba as "The Winner Takes It All" was a hit around 1980. That was towards their end. The Carpenters were finished. They could have been his mother's old records but she doesn't sound the type.

Perhaps he wasn't named after Donny Osmond and was born earlier? Maybe it doesn't matter. Only you can decide but arguably it is a bit confusing. Funnily enough, that timing which doesn't quite work does have a distinct resonance for me, even with specific reference to those years, and for reasons I don't intend to go into here. The main point, though, is that others wouldn't feel the same. It is not likely to be clear to them.

Conclusion

So I would say that your research could be tightened up but don't let that distract from the very evident strengths in your actual writing. Parts of it are pretty mind blowing. I doubt that I could have achieved it.

Good luck - and keep it moving!

Horseradish

Just like to say - two really good critiques...

Horseradish, I am so grateful for your most insightful critique. In fact, to be honest, I'm humbled. I only came across this site a few weeks ago and I have been blown away by the help that I have already received and the way that folks have given up their free time so readily. It's just so nice and fully appreciated.

Thank you for the review of my first chapter and for your most accurate comments, I feel that you know me already. You seem to have completely identified both my strengths and weaknesses, which is a bit of a bugger as I was hoping that I wouldn't get rumbled quite so soon!

You are right of course, I got the history of my Donny character a little muddled and I will re-write and correct asap. Writing the funny stuff has always come easily to me and what you say is correct in that I always have ideas bubbling to the surface. Where I fall down, is in the detail of the character development, which you so speedily identified. In truth, I have always felt that I would be at my best if I could write with a partner, but it's never quite happened, so I have been forced to write alone. As a result, my work lacks the editing that it usually needs.

So thanks again for your critique. If you ever feel like you'd want to take a look at chapter two, let me know and I'll happily send it over. All the best, Martin

It's well written with nice characters, but if I'm honest, I didn't really find it that funny. At least up to now. I think, much like a sitcom, if you're going to market a book as funny, it has to be funny pretty much from the get to.

Also, the majority of the beginning is pretty much superfluous. I'd start it from...

With a loud thud of his toffee-hammer, the judge closed the proceedings.

'Case dismissed.'

Hi Steven, thanks for your critique. Sorry that the humour wasn't to your taste,
but it was really kind of you to take the time to read my work and offer constructive feedback. This forum is full of really helpful people, thanks again.

Quote: Handimar @ August 12 2013, 11:30 AM BST

Horseradish, I am so grateful for your most insightful critique. In fact, to be honest, I'm humbled. I only came across this site a few weeks ago and I have been blown away by the help that I have already received and the way that folks have given up their free time so readily. It's just so nice and fully appreciated.

Thank you for the review of my first chapter and for your most accurate comments, I feel that you know me already. You seem to have completely identified both my strengths and weaknesses, which is a bit of a bugger as I was hoping that I wouldn't get rumbled quite so soon!

You are right of course, I got the history of my Donny character a little muddled and I will re-write and correct asap. Writing the funny stuff has always come easily to me and what you say is correct in that I always have ideas bubbling to the surface. Where I fall down, is in the detail of the character development, which you so speedily identified. In truth, I have always felt that I would be at my best if I could write with a partner, but it's never quite happened, so I have been forced to write alone. As a result, my work lacks the editing that it usually needs.

So thanks again for your critique. If you ever feel like you'd want to take a look at chapter two, let me know and I'll happily send it over. All the best, Martin

View original

I'm pleased that it was useful Martin. Would you consider posting Chapter 2 on the forum?

To be more helpful, I've now concluded that your intention was for Donny Douglas to have been born in the early 1960s and not named after Donny Osmond. That would bring the music into line time wise. The teachers could still do all the Crazy Horses stuff in the early 1970s on the basis of his name. Hope that makes sense. Sorry if I muddled you but I didn't think of him as being 50-ish. You do have it about right.

That council tower block in 1969 will though need to be a few floors lower to be real. That shouldn't be a problem because the 13 floor one I knew seemed sky high. 20-odd floors would retain the dramatic impact.

No need to reply. I'm looking forward to the next bit!

Hi there,

It was enjoyable, if not (for me) laugh out loud funny. Are you American? I noticed a lot of american terminology, like "recess". If you are, fine, if you are English, I would change it.

If it helps - American courts have recess, English courts have fag breaks.

I did not get the references - I don't know if that is an age thing, but I would be careful not to alienate some of your readers too quickly. I didn't really understand the puppy loving stuff either. But I enjoyed it.

Hi Jenny, Thank you so much for your critique, it is greatly appreciated. It's interesting that my theme of a lad suffering because he shares his name with a cheesy boy-band member seems to be missing the comedy mark. It's also slightly worrying, as it's a theme that runs continually throughout the book. I guess I'm guilty of doing a Peter Kay trick here. P.K's comedy really stems from his memories of both his childhood and early work experiences and audiences of a similar age find it easy to relate to his spin of these situations. My memories were of the early to mid 1970's and I guess only those who shared that same timespan will relate to the experiences. It does mean that only audiences of a certain age will 'get' the jokes - but as that is where I find my comedy, I don't think that I really have a choice - it's what I know best. It's a problem I know.

LOL No..I'm not American....I'm from sunny Stourbridge in the West Midlands. Having said that, I did once attend a line-dancing class - does that count? I think I was going through a Shania Twain phase! On reflection, I should add that I meant musically, not in a cross-dressing sense!

Can't post Chapter Two onto the forums, it's a lot more risque than the first chapter. Personally, I like it, but it is a bit rude...

Quote: Handimar @ August 13 2013, 12:14 PM BST

Can't post Chapter Two onto the forums, it's a lot more risque than the first chapter. Personally, I like it, but it is a bit rude...

View original

Do it - we're not as innocent as we seem

Ah, I get it now - Donny Osmond, puppy love. I think that it a bit too much of a stretch. Personally. I associate him with Joseph, and THAT torso. Ahem.

There are plenty of funny names out there. I went to Uni with someone whose surname was Fingerit. That was unfortunate.

Yes, I also remember Donny in his 'Torso' days. To be honest, I prefer to go with the smooth spacehopper look which, if not attractive to women, does help me to blend in with other dads at Disneyland.

O.K, I'll post chapter two later this afternoon, but I think my character timings are still screwed, so it's a work in progress.