Disobedient Chapter. Help edit please

[BlancheKing]

After two request fails, I've decided that the manuscript needs work. I'm sorry it's so long, but after reads and re-reads (and friend reads, I've decided that this is where my novel loosens up. Please edit and tell me if some parts are a) superfluous, or b) boring as hell.

thanks so much.
-B
---
Chapter 3 exert

“AAUUUGGHHH!”
I awoke with a start. The Charlie Brown imitation was coming from the corridor, followed by other various complaints. Down the hall, the washer clunked. I opened the door. A guy trudged by with his laundry basket still full of unwashed boxers.
“Someone call maintenance.”
I groaned. Behind me, the closet waved its last resident invitingly.
“You look like Pippi Longstockings.” said Cyrus when I showed up in a plaid raincoat and mismatched socks. The fog thickened. Around us, the courtyard filled with returning students, most of them already in their best cashmere. I ducked behind Cyrus as a group of art majors walked by.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shushed him. “In case you haven’t noticed, this outfit’s ugly enough to scare the dea—”
I stopped. The third button on his shirt was slightly bigger than the others, navy blue instead of black.
“What?” he said when he caught me staring at his chest.
I pointed to the button. “That.”
Cyrus looked down at himself. “An unfortunate result of undressing in the dark,” he said sheepishly. “It’s my last clean dress shirt.”
“Then wear a regular shirt.”
“Absolutely not,” said Cyrus with an exaggerated tug at his collar. “This is a classic look. To change it would insult my dignity. Besides,” he pointed to a passing skateboarder with sagging pants. “Unlike him, I doubt I have courage to publicize the brand of my underwear.”
I snorted. He’s such a drama queen.
“Why the sudden interest in my ensemble?” he asked. “Planning to redo my wardrobe?”
“Maybe…”
What I wanted to say was “No, I want to ask you out on a date, and not the weird dates people go on to appease their best friend; a real date, with flowers and dinner and a walk into the sunset.”
I need to stop reading dime novels.
“Maybe?” he said.
“Do you want me to?” I asked, squashing a growing sense of excitement that came with a pending date.
Cyrus made a face. “Nah, too much work.”
In came the awkward silence. Tumbleweeds rolled. The excitement was gone, replaced by a frustration I usually reserved for little brothers and traffic. Interested or not, he could at least think about it.
“If you want to go somewhere together,” said Cyrus suddenly. “I’ll take you to Beacon Hill next week. It’s quite elegant, and not as noisy.”
Strike that last thought.
“Is that a promise?”
He laughed. “Would I have to roll over and apologize if I don’t?”
“Possibly,” I said, “Bring a dozen roses and we’ll talk.”
Some girls walked by, squealing amongst themselves. One of them nodded in our direction and the rest giggled. The word “freak” drifted towards us before they continued on their way.
“What’s their deal?” I huffed.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Cyrus. He bit his lower lip as if he wanted to say something else, but changed the subject instead. “So how’s the paper coming?”
“Better,” I said, “I just need to go back to the library and sort out the details. Want to help me finish it?”
“Maybe later,” he said, “It’s a little busy for my taste right now. You go ahead.”
The library, believe it or not, was already filled with people working on last-minute projects. Even the rows of archaic manuscripts were teeming with sleep-deprived students. I made my way to the basement.
Please don’t let the ghost lady be there.
“Did you get rid of him?” she asked the minute I walked in.
I turned to leave.
“You mustn’t ignore my warnings!” she persisted, following me around the room in a lousy imitation of a merry-go-around. “If you aren’t careful, he will eat you! Suck the life out of you a little by little! Make you tired! He will kill you without you even being aware it! Save yourself! Throw the old man down the well!”
“Leave me alone.”
“Throw him down the well!”
“No!”
Whatever Cyrus did to her couldn’t have warranted this kind of harassment.
“Look lady, I am not throwing him down a well. There isn’t even a well around here.”
She paused. “Then burn him. He’s combustible.”
Somehow, I don’t think she got my point.
The old lady rummaged in her pocket. “At least hold on to this when you are around him. It will protect you from harm.”
I looked down at the card with the red star. The only harm I’d had in the last few days was her, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud.
“If I promise to keep it, will you leave me alone?”
She nodded. Resigned, I let her stuff it into my jean pocket, and she waddled away muttering to herself.
I was on the last page of my paper when Cyrus walked in.
“Finished?” he asked, plopping onto the couch with me.
“Almost.” I glanced around to make sure the crazy lady wasn’t lurking in a dark corner or something. God knows how Cyrus would react if he ran into a real ghost, and this one had it in for him.
“You’re getting into this stuff,” he said, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. “I like the narrative voice.”
Finally, a compliment. It meant a lot, seeing as my compliment to criticism ratio was 10:1. But it could also have something to do with his face being inches from mine. I suddenly had an urge to lean over kiss it.
Okay, that would be bad, but still, its presence was made count my own heartbeats.
“This part doesn’t make sense,” he said, pointing to the middle of the screen. “You can’t turn every dead man into a ghost. There would be too many. Only people with unresolved, deeply rooted conflicts end up as the undead.”
“You sure about that? Talk to any dead people lately?”
He threw a cushion at me “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Do spirits sleep?”
He shrugged. “They don’t usually. I suppose they can, if that’s what you mean, but I doubt they need to. Think of it like watching television; it’s something to do when you’re bored.”
“Perfect.” I scrolled through my finished paper. It was actually good.
“One more thing—”
Before he could finish, an unintelligible gargling noise surfaced from the other side of the room. “RRRAHHHHEEEEEIIIII!!!”
The old lady was back.
“Nuisance!” she shrieked, waving a broom at us. “Be Gone!”
In a bad imitation of Tom and Jerry, the old lady chased Cyrus around the room, swiping at him wildly with her weapon. It was hard to tell whether he wanted help or not, as he seemed to be enjoying the affair.
“Go on ahead,” he said, ducking from another one of her swings, “I’ll meet you outside.”
“But—”
He picked me up, and threw me bodily out the door.
I found myself sitting in front of the library just as it started to snow. For a ghost, Mrs. Sherry was certainly… pathetic. I mean, if I was a ghost, I’d at least haunt a person or two, not sit in the library doing paperwork.
When Cyrus didn’t show after an hour, I went back to look for him.
“Excuse me dear, but the study rooms are closed,” said Mrs. Walker.
“But my friend’s still down there.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No one’s down there.”
I raised mine. “But—”
She raised her other one.
It was quickly becoming a game of who-looks-more-ridiculous, so I pretended to be interested in one of the other shelves until she turned her attention to another unfortunate soul. While she lectured him, I slipped back into the room.
Cyrus was sitting quietly on the couch opposite the old lady, neither was doing anything but smiling. The twinkle in his eyes told me that I didn’t want to know what had actually happened.
“Just a misunderstanding,” he said, nodding at the old woman. “Nothing out of the ordinary. She’s quite a charming lady, aren’t you, Mrs. Sherry?”
Mrs. Sherry rocked back and forth slightly, nodding as she went. I looked to Cyrus for an explanation.
“She’s just happy this nonsense is over.”
Mrs. Sherry continued to smile.
“And now we must get going.” Cyrus stood and steered me towards the door, unperturbed by the fact that Mrs. Sherry was still smiling. If he had been startled by her outburst, he didn’t show it until we were outside.
“Remind me not to go anywhere with you again unarmed,” he said, hiding a chuckle.
“What ha—”
“Let’s not talk about it.”
The incident had inspired us to find a quieter place to study, so we retreat to my room for the rest of the night. Cyrus took his time exploring, amused by the hordes of stuffed animals and Disney movies.
“Impressive,” he said in regards to the collages of faces plastered on every wall. “Your roommate is quite the photographer.”
I shrugged. Jenny’s the kind of girl who had a camera permanently super-glued to her hand. She even traded me her closet for my wall space. Not that I mind…
“Who is this?” asked Cyrus, pointing to the framed graduation picture I kept on my nightstand.
“Kathleen,” I said. “She’s my cousin.”
“Is she always this severe?” he said.
“It’s the hair,” I said, taking the picture from him. “Lady Gaga brought back the Cleopatra cut. That, and everyone wants to look sophisticated for college.”
“And you, my dear?”
“Round faces don’t work with short hair.”
It was one of my tragic flaws. At a glance, my head was too big for my shoulders, but a thin face would make me look like a goldfish.
Cyrus sat down on the bed and pulled my face closer to his.
“Give me a kiss?” he said.
There’re some things that just shouldn’t be blurted out loud; like “oops” during heart surgery or “fire” in Sunday church. This was one of those things.
“Kidding!” he laughed as I spluttered at him. “Don’t have a heart attack.”
Did I mention “kidding” also falls under that category?
I threw my pillow at him. “Jerk.”
“Sorry, but you looked like you could use a little livening up.”
His remark reminded me that I was sleepy, and unthinkingly, I put my head on his shoulder. We sat silently in the dark, my thoughts turning from unusual to senseless. Homer Simpson, ballerinas. I was on the verge of dozing off when the door clicked and Jenny’s head popped in.
“Hey! What’s up girl?!”
Cyrus and I sprung apart. He backed into the nightstand.
“Yeah, I know I said tomorrow, but something came up, so yeah, I’m back early. Hope it wasn’t too disappointing for you.” She pulled out a roll of candy out of her bag and tossed it at me. “A little something from Europe. I know you like...”
She trailed off, taking in the disheveled room. With a suspicious smirk, she crossed her arms and gave me the once over. “Been busy, have we?”
“Er-” I scrambled around for the right words, “Yeah, kinda. Um, this is Cyrus. And Cyrus, this is my roommate Jenny.”
They both stood by the sides, staring at me. Jenny spoke first.
“Claudia, are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Because there’s no one here besides us.”

[wildheart]

Is this the manuscript you have been sending out to agents? I am guessing so, but I just wanted to make sure.

I do like your writing style, but I have a couple problems. First is the way you started the chapter. It didn't really catch my attention enough. And honestly? The first few paragraphs were like that. Stuff was happening, but nothing that really said conflict to me.

And it really seems like you rushed this scene. You are like me it seems like. While writing I get so excited I rush through everything. Try and make the interesting parts sing next time.

I love the tidbit of foreshadowing you did with the girls walking by and calling your MC a freak...

The ending of the scene is what I really loved. It is what saved this for me really. The twist was a great one. Oh, and the other ghost lady was interesting too.

Really, I do like the idea of your story...it's just some of the things in this scene don't seem like they need to be there. Start with the action.

One last thing. I got completely lost in the middle of this scene. Wasn't sure what exactly happened. There were just some really odd transitions that made it hard to focus on what was going on. But like I said. You really caught my attention at the end.

While I see the twist in this scene ( dude MC likes is a ghost?) I don't really see enough conflict. I think that is your main issue. There needs to be MORE going on in the beginning and middle of the scene.

I really hope I am making sense and not just rambling. Do you understand what I am saying? Your manuscript has a lot of potential, but if all your scenes are like this...quick and without good transitions...I can see where your problem is in getting agents to say yes.

Hope this helps!

[JTB]

It's difficult to comment off the bat because we don't have any context or background/foreground about the piece and its relation to the overall story so the room for misunderstandings is high - like, is this the beginning of the chapter, the end, the middle .. and who are these characters, who's the old man ... why are they going to the basement and what do you mean by 'where your novel loosens up'? we cannot tell if it's superfluous because we don't know what it might or might not be superfluous too - and as has been said, there is little actually going on, which might make it a transitional scene of course ... but to achieve what for the plot?

the energy is great and the writing reads fine

[mmcdonald64]

I awoke with a start. The Charlie Brown imitation was coming from the corridor, followed by other various complaints. Down the hall, the washer clunked. I opened the door. A guy trudged by with his laundry basket still full of unwashed boxers.
“Someone call maintenance.”
I groaned. Behind me, the closet waved its last resident invitingly.
“You look like Pippi Longstockings.” said Cyrus when I showed up in a plaid raincoat and mismatched socks. The fog thickened. Around us, the courtyard filled with returning students, most of them already in their best cashmere. I ducked behind Cyrus as a group of art majors walked by.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shushed him. “In case you haven’t noticed, this outfit’s ugly enough to scare the dea—”
I stopped. The third button on his shirt was slightly bigger than the others, navy blue instead of black.
“What?” he said when he caught me staring at his chest.
I pointed to the button. “That.”

What I noticed right off the bat, after reading a few sentences and skimming further, was that about every second or third paragraph begins with [subject][verbed] and it continues that way throughout the chapter.

I groaned
I shushed
I pointed
I stopped

Maybe you could mix it up a little? Add some variety? I don't write (or read) first person very often, so maybe it's normal for that pov?

[CoachMT]

I'd echo the comments above. I can't picture where the action is taking place. Let's look at your first several lines:

“AAUUUGGHHH!”
I awoke with a start. The Charlie Brown imitation was coming from the corridor, followed by other various complaints. Down the hall, the washer clunked. I opened the door. A guy trudged by with hisa laundry basket still full of unwashed boxers.
“Someone call maintenance.”
I groaned. Behind me, the closet waved its last resident invitingly. I have no idea what you're trying to say here. I might just be dense.
“You look like Pippi Longstockings.” said Cyrus when I showed up in a plaid raincoat and mismatched socks. The fog thickened. Around us, the courtyard filled with returning students, most of them already in their best cashmere. I ducked behind Cyrus as a group of art majors walked by. Now. We were inside with the MC in PJ's (in my mind at least) then we're suddenly outside somewhere and fog thickened where I hadn't seen any before. Take a moment to set the scene. I realize this is chapter 3 and you may have described some of these places already, but at this point I'm completely lost as to where I am and what's going on.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shushed him. he asked a question and stopped, you don't need to "shush" him “In case you haven’t noticed, this outfit’s ugly enough to scare the dea—”

I'm sure part of the problem is with us coming in at chapter 3 here and not knowing what has happened already, but hopefully the comments can lead you to a solution.

[A.M.Kuska]

I liked it. You are correct that the manuscript does need tightened, but all of the problems are pretty easy fixes. Aside from the comments other readers made, you may also want to check for excessive adverbs. ^^ If you're using word document, just find all "ly" and there should be a checkbox underneith that says "highlight all". Do that, and most of the adverbs should light up.

[BlancheKing]

Thanks for your feedbacks =). I'm still a little confused. Can anyone point out when the story starts getting interesting? As in give me a sentence? I need to go back and troubleshoot the stuff before it.

The fashion part was intended to draw attention to his inconsistent style of dress (having worn a frock coat, and a 50's greaser outfit the two days before) and thereby hinting that he's not who he says he is. (someone from this decade).

As for the conflict... the whole book is about ghosts, lies, black&white versus shades of grey, and how much trust is too much trust. Any ideas on how I can bring that more into the story without sounding inconsistent?

[wildheart]

Thanks for your feedbacks =). I'm still a little confused. Can anyone point out when the story starts getting interesting? As in give me a sentence? I need to go back and troubleshoot the stuff before it.

The fashion part was intended to draw attention to his inconsistent style of dress (having worn a frock coat, and a 50's greaser outfit the two days before) and thereby hinting that he's not who he says he is. (someone from this decade).

As for the conflict... the whole book is about ghosts, lies, black&white versus shades of grey, and how much trust is too much trust. Any ideas on how I can bring that more into the story without sounding inconsistent?

Hmmmmm. Let me see if I can be clearer this time around.

She trailed off, taking in the disheveled room. With a suspicious smirk, she crossed her arms and gave me the once over. “Been busy, have we?”
“Er-” I scrambled around for the right words, “Yeah, kinda. Um, this is Cyrus. And Cyrus, this is my roommate Jenny.”
They both stood by the sides, staring at me. Jenny spoke first.
“Claudia, are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Why?”
“Because there’s no one here besides us.”

THIS is where it really caught my attention. I can't tell you exactly what you need to cut, because as others have stated, you have dropped us in the middle of your novel. I don't KNOW what parts are important, and which aren't. We have no background.

[“AAUUUGGHHH!”
I awoke with a start. The Charlie Brown imitation was coming from the corridor, followed by other various complaints. Down the hall, the washer clunked. I opened the door. A guy trudged by with his laundry basket still full of unwashed boxers.
“Someone call maintenance.”
I groaned. Behind me, the closet waved its last resident invitingly.
“You look like Pippi Longstockings.” said Cyrus when I showed up in a plaid raincoat and mismatched socks. The fog thickened. Around us, the courtyard filled with returning students, most of them already in their best cashmere. I ducked behind Cyrus as a group of art majors walked by.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shushed him. “In case you haven’t noticed, this outfit’s ugly enough to scare the dea—”
I stopped. The third button on his shirt was slightly bigger than the others, navy blue instead of black.
“What?” he said when he caught me staring at his chest.
I pointed to the button. “That.”
/quote]

Although I really like your voice...This part bored me. If you need the information in here maybe condense it somehow? I'm not sure. It just didn't grab my attention, which means it probably didn't grab the agents either. At least, not enough to represent you. Really get brutal on yourself. Cut out anything that does not further your story, does not create conflict, does not show change. Remember, at the end of each scene, something should change. It doesn't have to be big, but it has to be there.

If I think of anything else, I'll let you know.

Does any of what I said make sense?

[Serzen]

If I may insert my own observations?

In the first sentence of the second paragraph, I don't like the verb awoke. I would stick with just 'woke'; considering the casual nature of the rest of the text, awoke feels out of place. And, bang, right off the bat, we come to the major observation: there are too many places where the work feels overwrought or contrived--it just doesn't flow naturally.

Sticking with the first paragraph: "I opened the door; a guy trudged by with..." is more appropriate. In this context the sentences are not strong enough to stand on their own. They are independent clauses and eligible for sentence standing, but I don't think that they deserve it here.

"Behind me, the closet waved its last..." I'm not keen on 'waved' as being the hinging verb here. It LOOKS like a mistake. It LOOKS like you forgot the 'i' in 'waived', even though that's not the case. I think that stumbles more people than realize it. Try something along the lines of 'presented' or some similar form instead. Don't let homonyms do what you don't want them to!

You use "I said" just fine, but you keep using "said Cyrus". Things would probably scan better if you used "Cyrus said" instead some of the time. Also, all due respect to Those Who Go Before Me, but 'said' isn't always the best word choice. There are places where "answered" or "responded" are Good Things™.

"I snorted. He's such a drama queen." You changed tenses here. It's jarring to read, but CAN be done intentionally. Without the rest of the book at hand, I don't know whether or not it was intended. See also "Please don't let the ghost lady be there." Both of those lines could be fixed with an "I thought".

"Okay, that would be bad, but still, its presence..." Here you've reversed the earlier mistake of separating clauses. In this case you want "...be bad. But still..."

On the balance, I'm liking your sense of cadence. Most of the time the timing works well. Keep in mind that I'm a fan of William Gibson, though. Not everyone is. He mastered the punk cadence that you're channeling here, and you've done a good job of reaching it most of the time. There might be a few places where it falls flat, but a little polishing will smooth them out.

I'm more concerned that the dialogue doesn't feel quite as natural as it could. Some of it might have to do with punctuation spoiling the delivery. In other cases it might be just coming back to the overwrought feeling that I mentioned earlier. Good dialogue is hard to write, though. BOB knows I struggle with it. If it's any help, think of it like this: the conversations you are recording needn't be exact; rather, they are condensations of what was said, distillations of the essence of what was spoken about. Remember, too, that the quotes and tags aren't the only tools in the box. For example, "If I promise to keep it, will you leave me alone?" You don't have many options to add inflection, but you should take advantage of those you do have.

So, I hope that you find something of value in this. Only you know what you're doing with your work. I can offer advice based on what I know about the English language and how it transmits information to people, but I can't tell you how to write your book. If my advice is useful to you, you're welcome to it; if not, please disregard.

~Serzen

[BlancheKing]

@ everyone: thank you all for your feedback, and wildheart for pointing out the drift. I've considered everyone's opinions, and have decided to make all the changes that were mentioned at least twice. Adverbs and adjectives were shot, subject-verb sentences were reduced, the button's been turned into a piano key tie to emphasize the lack of decade consistency, and the laundry scene has been cut. The dialogue was written based on the people in my dorm, and so will remain as it is. I'm not a big fan of italicizing and neither is my writer's guide.

again, thank you all very much. =)