"Green Vs Gray"

[RVM45]

.....This is almost six hundred words- the first part of my first chapter in my new novel.

.....Since my first novel came to about 35 000 words; I'm trying to beef this one up a bit. One way is more characterization.

.....Is the odd-ball character of cousin Frank, interesting enough to support all the exposition up front?

.....
Chapter One



My cousin Frank was a bit of a black sheep. He ended up without a roof over his head several times; and because my father firmly believed the old adage that blood was thicker than water, he’d let Frank come stay with us. I was always glad when Frank came to stay. Although he was twenty-one years older than me, he was like the brother that I never had.


Now my father had some odd turns to his character. He didn’t like comic books; and he positively loathed Science Fiction. He told me that he’d never liked “Funny Books”, even as a little boy- and a dour; cheerless; spoil-sport little boy, he must have been. I could have comic books- but I couldn’t bring them into the house. I had to keep them in a waterproof box in the garage.


Every once in a great while, he’d let me watch a Science Fiction show on the TV. He’d do everything he could to ruin it for me. He’d make at least one loud theatrical sigh per minute- rolling his eyes as if in agony- the whole time. He’d tell me how stupid the show was, and how far-fetched the whole genre was, every two or three minutes. I could argue back; but if I pressed my point too hard; he’d retaliate by making me turn the TV off.


If we went to someone’s home; and they were watching a SF show, he’d grin and ask the host how people who were supposedly of sound mind; could watch such disgusting drivel. He would always phrase it as if somehow, he hadn’t realized that the host was the one actually watching the show; and that even if he had known; any honest observer would have had to admit that only fuctards and the brain damaged watched SF- once he’d drawn their attention to the fact.


Frank read all of my comic books; and bought me more. We discussed the plot of each one with utmost gravity. He also made sure that we got to watch all the flying saucer movies that came out- on TV, or at the box office. He was always comparing the adventures of the actors, with his own real-life close encounters.


Frank’s father was a surly miser of a man, who tried hard to control every aspect of his son’s lives; but he did send them all to top rated colleges. Frank’s three older brothers all got took some sort of business course. They all graduated, and went on to make big bucks. I hear tell that the poorest of the three was worth over three million dollars.


Frank went to Purdue, in West Lafayette. He studied Electrical Engineering. He didn’t graduate.


Frank’s folks were Baptists; but Frank started attending Sherman Temple down in Lafayette proper. It was a Holiness Pentecostal church. Frank had never been to a black church, and found he grooved on the rhythms. One thing led to another, and Frank ended up marrying a black girl from the church, the summer after his junior year. His father disowned him, and he never completed his senior year.


His wife died giving birth, less than a year after they were married. The baby didn’t make it either. Frank tried the Army, and a few months later he had an undesirable discharge. He was a card-carrying member of The Operating Engineers for a few years; when a crane turned over and hurt his back.


Most of the time that I remember being around Frank, he was whipsawed between constant and extreme pain; fairly large pharmaceutical doses of opiates; and two or three six-packs of beer every day. Still, he made pretty good money welding; repairing TVs and radios; and fixing household appliances. He also scored lots of electronic gear from curbside trash; got it to working; and sold it.


Frank died in ’97, at the age of sixty-one. He had a small fifty-seven acre farm, complete with a modest tarpaper shack; a nice barn; and one hell of a well equipped workshop- all paid for. He left it all to me; but his money-grubbing brothers tried to screw me out of it. I didn’t get to move in and take possession, free and clear, ‘till the summer of 2003. By then, I was almost as much a fuctard as cousin Frank; though for different reasons.


It wasn’t ‘till the aliens started coming around looking for Frank though, that I finally realized how far out there that Frank actually dwelt.


.....RVM45

[Kahnmark]

Wow, that's about the most original thing I think I've ever read. Your exposition for some reason reminds me of "Catcher in the Rye." I think it's the way the narrator casually discusses other people's lives.

One thing I think you should do is cut out the bit about the narrator's father. It is written well, but could be included later. Also I'm not sure we need to know quite so much details about Frank.

This definitely begins to plant roots. I find your writing style comfortable, but it wasn't enough to make me absorb such a bombardment of information.

[ctg]

It's cool, but it made me to think of how old is this guy. I mean from where I come from, I used to talk about comics to my friends, which were from my age group, and that is the gist I get from the beginning. Therefore I was very surprised about the ending where Frank turn out to be 61. However, your prologue reads like this guy is twenty something, not like a old geezer like a Frank.

To lessen the impact of info dump, have you considered to drip some of this stuff in later chapters, through the memories of your character as he watches for example UFO's landing and little grey fellow pouring out blasting their ray-guns in all directions.

However, I like the voice your character is narrating, it's very subtle and calming, like there is no rush at anywhere. I guess there is going to be a lot of PANIC later on. Be careful on the pop-culture references, some of the editors don't like them.

[RVM45]

.....Both y'all are right. Too much exposition, too soon.

.....Does anyone know exactly when the image of the gray alien first appeared?

.....What I wanted, was for the Little Green Men to have been drinking buddies of Frank's. His off-the-wall comments about touring the cosmos in a flying saucer weren't a charming affectation; or a mental illness- he was telling the literal truth.

.....However, the Little Green Men stopped coming around for ten to fifteen years- perhaps because for a very long-lived alien; a visiting hiatus- even one lasting several decades- isn't that big a deal. There might be a tendancy to forget human's shorter lifespan.

.....I want the Little Green Men to A.} Come looking for Frank; B.} Be saddened to learn of his demise; C.} Hang around with VP( View Point Character) long enough to see some Gray Aliens on the tube.

.....Gray Aliens are sinister; evil; and invariably up to no good. Time to have a Ray-Gun and Rocketship rumble; with the Little Green Men trying to save Earth.

.....I guess, since none of the events ever come to light, that I should probably move it back into the early eighties. Can't really set it any earlier- I need for the LGM to have been gone long enough for the GA to have established quite a bridgehead.

.....RVM45

[ctg]

Well the next scene that I did see in my head was you moving to the POV of the narrator and landing(s) of a UFO, or him watching a UFO landing(s) from the tellie and reacting to them.

I like the idea of aliens coming to look for their 'abductees' (not sure about the word), and you can reveal that bit of plot twist when for example aliens abduct your main character and for example, scan his brainwaves (and rip out his memories to be displayed at front of the character).

[Troo]

Right. First thing's first, I like this, and think it has a lot of promise. But you need to work on your wordcrafting, so here's a few pointers.

Originally Posted by RVM45

My cousin Frank was a bit of a black sheep [Cliche. Find another way of saying it]. He ended up without a roof over his head several times; and because my father firmly believed the old adage that blood was thicker than water [second cliche of the paragraph. Again, find another way], he’d let Frank come stay with us. I was always glad when Frank came to stay. Although he was twenty-one years older than me, he was like the brother that I never had.


Now my father had some odd turns to his character [Is this about Frank, or the protagonist's Father? It's about Frank. So perhaps the rather heavy-handed soapboxing about the Crazy People Who Hate Science Fiction needs snipping back somewhat]. He didn’t like comic books; and he positively loathed Science Fiction. He told me that he’d never liked “Funny Books”, even as a little boy- and a dour; cheerless; spoil-sport little boy, he must have been. I could have comic books- but I couldn’t bring them into the house. I had to keep them in a waterproof box in the garage.


Every once in a great while, he’d let me watch a Science Fiction show on the TV. He’d do everything he could to ruin it for me. He’d make at least one loud theatrical sigh per minute- rolling his eyes as if in agony- the whole time. He’d tell me how stupid the show was, and how far-fetched the whole genre was, every two or three minutes. I could argue back; but if I pressed my point too hard; he’d retaliate by making me turn the TV off.


If we went to someone’s home; and they were watching a SF show, he’d grin and ask the host how people who were supposedly of sound mind; could watch such disgusting drivel. He would always phrase it as if somehow, he hadn’t realized that the host was the one actually watching the show; and that even if he had known; any honest observer would have had to admit that only fuctards and the brain damaged watched SF- once he’d drawn their attention to the fact. [Is fuctards an appropriate word for a fifties semi-polite conversation?]


Frank read all of my comic books [The focus switching between Frank, the protagonist's Father, then Frank again is somewhat skittish. I would suggest putting this paragraph in front of the description of the protagonist's Father to give cause for the detail on why the protagonist's Father loathes genre entertainment]; and bought me more. We discussed the plot of each one with utmost gravity. He also made sure that we got to watch all the flying saucer movies that came out- on TV, or at the box office. He was always comparing the adventures of the actors, with his own real-life close encounters.


Frank’s father [Unless Fatherhood is a theme of the novel, I'd not bother with this grouchy, emo-kid description of Frank's Father] was a surly miser of a man, who tried hard to control every aspect of his son’s lives; but he did send them all to top rated colleges. Frank’s three older brothers all got took some sort of business course. They all graduated, and went on to make big bucks. I hear tell that the poorest of the three was worth over three million dollars.


Frank went to Purdue, in West Lafayette. He studied Electrical Engineering. He didn’t graduate. [This is a great paragraph. I'd be leery of making changes to it]


Frank’s folks were Baptists; but Frank started attending Sherman Temple down in Lafayette proper. It was a Holiness Pentecostal church. Frank had never been to a black church, and found he grooved on the rhythms. One thing led to another, and Frank ended up marrying a black girl from the church, the summer after his junior year. His father disowned him, and he never completed his senior year. [We know he failed to graduate, so try to rephrase this and make it less vague. Either specify that he dropped out to spend time with his wife, earn money to raise a family, his father ceased to fund his studies, or whichever it was. Preferably the second one, because that lends more weight to the next sentence]


His wife died giving birth, less than a year after they were married. The baby didn’t make it either. Frank tried the Army, and a few months later he had an undesirable discharge. He was a card-carrying member of The Operating Engineers for a few years; when a crane turned over and hurt his back. [There are a lot of heavy, important things in here that are just rammed into one paragraph. I'm undecided as to whether it works or not]


Most of the time that I remember being around Frank, he was whipsawed between constant and extreme pain; fairly large pharmaceutical doses of opiates; and two or three six-packs of beer every day. Still, he made pretty good money welding; repairing TVs and radios; and fixing household appliances. He also scored lots of electronic gear from curbside trash; got it to working; and sold it. [Watch those semicolons. They aren't an optional alternative to commas]


Frank died in ’97, at the age of sixty-one [Nicely done. You've built a likeable character in a short space of time, so the news of his death carries weight]. He had a small fifty-seven acre farm, complete with a modest tarpaper shack; a nice barn; and one hell of a well equipped workshop- all paid for. He left it all to me; but his money-grubbing brothers tried to screw me out of it. I didn’t get to move in and take possession, free and clear, ‘till the summer of 2003. By then, I was almost as much a fuctard as cousin Frank; though for different reasons. [Again, watch those semicolons]

It wasn’t ‘till the aliens started coming around looking for Frank though, that I finally realized how far out there that Frank actually dwelt. [This loses punch through overreliance on a turn of phrase that you've not used prior to this. If you'd previously stated "Frank was really out there", this would work. Rather than do that, though, and fall prey to another cliche, I'd suggest rewriting this sentence to something like: "It wasn't 'till the aliens came around looking for Frank that I saw just how close his 'close encounters' had been."]

I hope that helps.