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Old 01-02-2017, 06:09 PM View Post #1 (Link) Filthy Shemozzle
Georgy (Offline)
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In summer I happened to work at a neighboring farm as a major manure expert.
Every morning I would get up at five. I would drink very strong coffee and walk to the farm of John Ram.
I didn't harness my truck because the distance to the farm was a short one, besides, it seemed to me a very dangerous stunt to drive in the state of extreme sleepiness.
One morning Lily, my sister, saw me from her bedroom window when I was walking to the farm waving a bouquet of flowers.
In the evening, when I returned home, Lily sprinkled me deodorant and sat down in front of me.
"Why?" I sniffed suspiciously.
"You stink, George," she said contemptuously. " The stench of manure is killing me you know."
"I worked on the farm for twelve hours in a row," I replied trying to sound calm. "I haven't been sitting in front of a computer, as it were, but instead I scraped out fucking manure by a shovel. Take a look! " I showed her my palms decorated with red blisters. "
She examined them carefully, winked and said with a grin, "Well, I think the reason of it doesn't have anything to do with a shovel."
"What do you mean?"
" Don't blush, George, don't frown. I'm just kidding," Lily said laughing. Her brazen blue eyes were shining brightly under her eyelids vastly toned by dint of mascara. Lily kept watching me with strange tint of sarcastic sentimentality on her beautiful face. Sorry for not describing it properly. The matter is that her face was of the most common shape: neat nose, smooth cheeks, exquisite chin. Only her slightly swollen lips were out of a top line making her face look somehow childish.
"Lily," I said. " As far as I remember you don't like to observe me eating. Was not that term "disgusting" that you used, or rather it was "abominable", right?"
Lily didn't vouchsafe me with answer. She kept silence for a minute then broke it in unexpected manner.
"Why flowers, George?" Lily asked in a low voice.
"Flowers? Oh, my gosh! Mrs Ram's birthday is today, don't you know?"
" And yesterday?"
" What about yesterday?"
"Exactly, George! What about yesterday? Whose birthday they celebrated yesterday?"
It was a killing question, I was not prepared for it, so I mumbled disgracefully "Seems there wasn't any..."
"But I spotted flowers in your hand yesterday," Lily tilted her head and enjoyed my embarassment.
"May I venture a guess?" Lily licked her lips in abusive manner. "You have a crush on Mr. Ram's daughter? That sleazy slip of a girl with always bored face? Beware, George, she is fourteen yet, and Mr. Ram is extremely tough father. You'd rather give it up."
"It's none of your business, Lo!" I growled.
"Not quite so, George, it concerns the prestige of our family!"
" I've never exchanged a word with Berta," I tried to sound as convincing as I only could. " I saw her a couple of times from far off. She doesn't approach the heap of manure where I'm working."
" That makes sense," Lily nodded thoughtfully. "But the flowers. You've been carrying flowers every day." Lily raised her head and glanced at me point blank " Mrs. Ram? Of course! How could I be so stupid? You're courting Mrs. Ram! If Mr. Ram knows he'll kill you on the spot."
" Bullshit," I said with a sneer.
Lily sipped coffee, and her lips imprinted charming kiss on a brim of the cup. " Well, it's all right if you're going to bang Mrs. Ram. It's gonna be Mr. Ram's problem, and it's for him to decide how he should regain his blighted honour."
I was fed up with Lily's chattering and began to fill my stomach with such ardour and eagerness that Lily had to retire to her room.
Two months passed in wink of an eye. Lily had not been bothering me asking about the development of my would-be relationship with Mrs Ram, and I was glad she abstained from touching to this theme.
The fall succeeded the summer and I quitted my job on Mr. Ram's farm, and he paid me for four months of drudgery one thousand bucks. Lily laughed when I revealed her the amount of my fee. "Mr. Ram cheated you," she said, "but you got some private compensation from Mrs. Ram, didn't you, George? By the way, I wanted to ask you, how could Mrs. Ram endure the smell of manure? I guess this is not an aphrodisiac scent, isn't it?"
"Go to hell, nozy parker," was my answer. Lily shrugged with vicious grin and headed for the bathroom.
I wish this would be the end of the story. But the end turned out very unprepossessing to say the least.

It fell on my mother's birthday, which brought together all our relatives in our house. It was quite fun: a huge table was set on the front lawn under the soft rays of the autumn sun. I'm not going to enumerate the names of all those present, in imitation of Thackeray, because the epoch of extended texts has passed. It would be suffice to say that about twenty people attended: uncles, aunts and grandparents. I'm not going to describe what did they look like, for the sake of my reader's time. Let us confine that they all looked quite respectable and even cute.
All of them handed gifts to Mom, spoke great toasts, drank, ate, laughed, etc.
When black jeep was parked near our house, at first moment nobody even paid any attention to it.
But I pricked up my ears, because I knew it was Mr. Ram's car.
Indeed, Mr. Ram got out of the car and made for us, carrying folded motley blanket in his arms.
When Mr. Ram approached the table, all present turned to him and clapped. All decided that Mr. Ram brought a gift to Mom, newborn calf, because it really turned out to be a calf.
Mr. Ram laid the poor thing at his feet, and with a fierce look on his face and bulging red eyes stared at the feast participants.
All those present, on seeing Mr. Ram's facial expressions, came to conclusion that he came up with bad intentions, stopped applause and stared back at the intruder in the state of stupor and embarrassment.
The calf, very frightened, was lying at his feet, trembling all over, burying his face in the grass.
"What the hell is it?" cried Mr. Ram. "What the hell your asshole is doing!"
My dad got up from the table and said sternly, "Mr. Ram, try to explain your words, or I'll call the police and put forward the accusation against you for the invasion on the private territory and public insults."
" Police?" screamed M. Ram. " I'll call the police and I'll sue you."
"Mr. Ram," Tom got paled and snarled. "What happened?"
"Your son, George, has worked on my farm cleaning barns, caring for cows and that sort of thing. Recently one of the cows gave birth to a calf and behold!" Mr. Ram shoved calf with his foot.
"Congratulations, Mr. Ram with offspring," my dad said calmly. "But why are you so angry?"
" Take a look!" said Mr. Ram. He grabbed the unfortunate calf's neck and lifted its muzzle. " Does it seem familiar to you?"
All gasped, I jumped up from my chair and froze stunned: the calf's muzzle was an exact copy of my face! Its huge bulging eyes expressed horror and dismay.
"Your scumbag dishonored my cow!" shouted Mr. Ram and released calf's head from his grasp. "But we will meet in court!"
With these words he left, leaving my unfortunate child stretched on the grass.
A dead silence hung over the table. Lily was the first to say with hysterical laughter "So you brought the flowers for a cow?" Lily couldn't stop laughing, trembling all over and banging her fists on the table. One of the guests handed her a glass of water.
The guests one by one got up from the table. Having said goodbye they left hurriedly.
When all relatives and guests left, Mom, Dad and Lily were sitting at the table avoiding looking at me. Mom was crying, Dad sat staring at the empty plate his cheeks and lips trembling. At last Lily looked at me with disgust and asked, "Well, what is it to bang a cow, George?"
"The same!" I replied, and began to devour the viands that were left untouched on the table with great healthy appetite.
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						Last edited by Georgy; 01-02-2017 at 06:24 PM.
					
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Old 01-09-2017, 04:58 AM View Post #2 (Link)
Trevin (Offline)
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The dialogue establishes a distinct flow for the writing and is easy to fall into. However, keep in mind that dialogue alone will only serve to bore a reader, as action is a must. Or else the plot cannot be furthered in a productive manner. There are a few grammatical mistakes (e.g. punctuation), but those can be revised easily.

I would try to stay away from lines such as
"You stink, George," she said contemptuously.
Instead of writing "she said (insert adverb)" try to show it instead of telling it.

For example, "You stink, George," her eyebrows narrowed slightly as she crossed her arms."

Something along those lines. When we tell the audience it leaves no room for interpretation or personality of the words themselves and quickly becomes a boring cycle. We don't have to tell the reader every single thing, it is up to them to interpret it. Also, neglecting to do that results in a painstaking routine of every time a character speaks there is an effectual explanation. The format becomes the same.

It fell on my mother's birthday, which brought together all our relatives in our house. It was quite fun: a huge table was set on the front lawn under the soft rays of the autumn sun. I'm not going to enumerate the names of all those present, in imitation of Thackeray, because the epoch of extended texts has passed. It would be suffice to say that about twenty people attended: uncles, aunts and grandparents. I'm not going to describe what did they look like, for the sake of my reader's time. Let us confine that they all looked quite respectable and even cute.
That is more like it. I noticed times when you neglected the environment for the sake of dialogue. Never, never use dialogue extensively unless it furthers the plot significantly. Nobody wants to read a transcript !

The calf, very frightened, was lying at his feet, trembling all over, burying his face in the grass.
There was no need for that adjective. The rest of the sentence shows the state of the calf. Always remember show, don't tell.

I am not harping on you, as I struggle with this very same hurdle of telling instead of showing. Remember, it is not an exposition!
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