A page to ponder; literary fiction

[Serzen]

Okay, I've been ramming on about other people's work for a little bit, but haven't posted any original work just yet. I'll remedy that here with an excerpt that I've just spent some time going over and am happy with the way it turned out. Now I need to polish the rest of the book up to this standard.

The following is from my current darling titled (for now) TO STAND BEFORE A BROKEN MIRROR, a work of literary fiction that aims to examine the human condition from (what I hope is) a different from usual angle. The piece is something of an interlude that occurs whilst waiting for the narrative to continue:

The dim hum of institutional halls, the severe click of hard-soled heels on polished tiles; thick, odiferous air reeks of burnt hair, exhaust fans somewhere far away try in vain to freshen the air. This place didn’t smell fresh the day it was built, no reason it should today.

They simply call everyone in white “staff”, everyone in blue “guest”. The staff call each other “doctor” and “nurse”, call those in blue “patient”. None of the labels mean much, though. If their goal was honesty, they would call the whites “criminals” and the blues “victims”. But that would still only tell a part of the story. To call the whites’ bosses “masterminds” would be to give them some level of genius unevidenced; to call the families of the blues “accessories” or “co-conspirators” would be truthful enough.

This place is supposed to help people, the staff are supposed to look after and care for the guests. People who come here, who are sent here, are supposed to get better, are supposed to go home. You know that happens here, though. You know no one gets to go home, no one gets better.

Even the staff get worse the longer they stay.

In another part of the building, another wing, another floor, some great beastly machine surges to life, is put to its designated task. The exhaust fans slow in protest of this new addition, this new burden. The fans take up their normal duty only when the other machine’s job is done, its purpose fulfilled.

In that other part of the building, that other wing, that other floor, someone gets a little worse.

Have fun with it.

~Serzen

[JustineDell]

The dim hum of institutional halls, the severe click of hard-soled heels on polished tiles; thick, odiferous air reeks of burnt hair, exhaust fans somewhere far away try in vain to freshen the air. This place didn’t smell fresh the day it was built, no reason it should today.

They simply call everyone in white “staff”, everyone in blue “guest”. The staff call each other “doctor” and “nurse”, call those in blue “patient”. None of the labels mean much, though. If their goal was honesty, they would call the whites “criminals” and the blues “victims”. But that would still only tell a part of the story. To call the whites’ bosses “masterminds” would be to give them some level of genius unevidenced; to call the families of the blues “accessories” or “co-conspirators” would be truthful enough. In this sentence you say guests and patients are referred to as 'blue'. Maybe one of them should be a different color? I TOTALLY love the way you described how everyone sees/calls everyone, you've got alot of different 'names' in this paragraph. I follow okay and it gives me a great picture (and a chuckle).

This place is supposed to help people, the staff are supposed to look after and care for the guests. People who come here, who are sent here, are supposed to get better, are supposed to go home. You know that happens here, though. You know no one gets to go home, no one gets better. Ha! Ain't that the truth!

Even the staff get worse the longer they stay. This is an excellent point!

In another part of the building, another wing, another floor, some great beastly machine surges to life, is put to its designated task. The exhaust fans slow in protest of this new addition, this new burden. The fans take up their normal duty only when the other machine’s job is done, its purpose fulfilled. Interesting

In that other part of the building, that other wing, that other floor, someone gets a little worse. Whoa...chills

Alrighty! I don't know a lot about literary fiction, but man...this blurp really pulled in and creeped me out (in a good way of course). I had a family member spend some time in the 'looney bin' as he called it and he told me some pretty crazy stories and just from what he told me - I think you've captured a great essence of it here. Do they still do electro-shock therapy? Thanks goodness lobotomies are out. Which makes me wonder, what is the time period for this book?

I really like this!!
~JD

[christi]

I really liked it and have little to offer in the way of advice that wasn't already covered by Justine, but I do want to make one suggestion about this part:

'The dim hum of the institutional walls,'

In my mind, the humming is from the crappy florescent lighting and not the walls themselves, so maybe:

'The dim hum of the florescent lights echoes like angry bees in the institutional walls'

Or something like that. I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from and can reword it in a way that works best for you.

[Serzen]

Thanks for taking the time. Just a couple points right now--busy morning today.

JD: The guests are the patients. They are in blue. Not meant to be separate groups. Thanks for the comment on capturing the essence; that's the goal of the entire work. I'll most likely post more information on BROKEN MIRROR at a future point but the setting is never fully revealed. A couple of towns (two, I think is all) have names but they're really just placeholders. My intention is to have created a work that resonates because it sounds familiar.

christi: The line should read "The dim hum of the institutional HALLS", not walls. It's a combination of all the noises in the building that find their way into the halls, suffuse the place.

~Serzen

[aspiring_x]

A member of my family also spent some time in a mental institution... funny thing, he called it "the looney bin", too. I like what you wrote about no one getting better. My family member was kicked out as soon as insurance stopped helping with the payments. Not only to I love the TRUTH in what you have written, but the tone is sublime. Keep up the great work!

[christi]

Alrighty. Sorry, I guess I read it wrong. I have a relative that went through one of these places back in the sixties and had electroshock treatment and all sorts of 'experimental' drugs and therapies that he says made him worse.

[Remus Shepherd]

I like most of this, Serzen, but I have two questions.

(I don't do the red/blue text thing because I'm colorblind. I can't see it, so I don't use it. :) )

They simply call everyone in white "staff", everyone in blue "guest". The staff call each other "doctor" and "nurse", call those in blue "patient".

I tripped over this part. Who are 'they'? 'They' aren't the staff, because the staff uses different names for people in white or blue.

This place is supposed to help people, the staff are supposed to look after and care for the guests. People who come here, who are sent here, are supposed to get better, are supposed to go home. You know that happens here, though. You know no one gets to go home, no one gets better.

The repetition of 'you' here seems to tell me that this piece is in second person POV. If that's not the case, then this part is jarring.

As I said these are just questions, not critiques -- I expect that they're answered by stuff prior to this excerpt that I haven't seen. Just wanted to point out that because of those questions, this excerpt doesn't stand alone very well.

But it looks like an interesting piece. Good luck with it!

[Serzen]

Remus,

They are Them. That shadowy overgroup, the Leaders, the People In Charge (total violation of caps procedure, too bad). They are the people that the staff answer to.

Allow me to answer the question/concern about 'you' by only saying right now that it's totally intentional.

This piece stands more or less totally alone in the novel. It IS connected to the previous paragraph (in a pretty nice way, even if it's only me who says so), but disconnected from the paragraphs that follow. The scene is never revisited.

But it's totally on purpose and I think that most of you who are reading along may have a hint what I've got brewing. I promise to post more when Life gets itself sorted the hell back out.

~Serzen

[Poisonguy]

Good work. Intriguing and creepy setting at the same time.

For me, a major thing is missing, and that's a protagonist. It seems the antagonists can be implied, but who tells the story? What are the stakes for the protag? Without a mention of characters, it's difficult to feel invested in what happens, IMO. It would be more gripping, if we (or the agent) had someone to cheer for.

What happens to these people, both staff and patients, is pretty vague (although I bet this is purposely done). It's intriguing, for sure, but I wonder if that's enough to grab an agent's attention. I'm saying this because it is so vague that it could be a story like Sleepers, which is the first thought I had. I'm all for teasing a little, but a little substance goes a long way. And because of this vagueness, a plot is difficult to make out.

So, no character, no plot (in the query, that is). Have you tried a version including these two items?

I didn't get the connection of the last two paragraphs (about the "other" floor) to the main body. Seems to me there's nothing different going on on that floor than on the main floor.

A minor thing missing is the line about word count.

I really liked the writing. If anything, this only needs tweaking.

Good luck.

[Serzen]

Salut, Poison,

Apologies for the brevity in advance, but I'm due out the door 10 minutes ago. Don't know when I'll be home again...ick.

This sample isn't a query, just a sample of what I'm working on. In this instance it's taken from the middle of page 8. In this particular vignette I'm building on a notion that I interjected into the narrative earlier, but doing so in a way that is, well, "creepier". It's a bit of foreshadow, perhaps, but really serves only to really, firmly, set a tone and leave no questions at all about what that tone is.

It's taken out of context, which makes it difficult to follow. I wasn't trying to confuse anyone with it. I DID want to see if the chord I struck was the right one, and I'm pretty pleased to think that it is. I promise, promise, promise to post some more of the text surrounding this as soon as I can in order to make it make more sense. At that juncture I'll also pitch the query letter here for people to poke fun of.

But right now I need to jet and take care of pressing personal stuffs.

Thanks for reading.

~Serzen

[Ghost in the Machine]

Serzen,

Oh the despair! You captured the bleakness and hopelessness just fine. I would watch overdescribing things, sometimes the extra words are just repetitive and don’t flow.

“People who come here, who are sent here” for example. I know some patients are voluntary and some not, is that what you were aiming for?

Now on with the tweaks:

The dim hum of institutional halls, the severe click of hard-soled heels on polished tiles; thick, odiferous air reeks of burnt hair (yer a poet an’ didn’t know it), exhaust fans somewhere far away try in vain to freshen the air. This place didn’t smell fresh the day it was built, no reason it should today.

Comment: I love fragments. I use them all the time. But I think having an actual sentence in the beginning would help the flow.

Suggestion: In these dim institutional halls, hard-soled heels click off polished tiles, and the oder of burnt hair overpowers the faraway exhaust fans.

Note: Since the doctors and nurses seem to be the enemy here, working “hard-soled heels” into “hard-souled staff” might be fodder for a nice transition between these two paragraphs. I’ll leave that as an exercise for you.

They simply call everyone in white “staff”, everyone in blue “guest”. The staff call each other “doctor” and “nurse”, call those in blue “patient”. None of the labels mean much, though. If their goal was honesty, they would call the whites “criminals” and the blues “victims”. But that would still only tell a part of the story. To call the whites’ bosses “masterminds” would be to give them some level of genius unevidenced; to call the families of the blues “accessories” or “co-conspirators” would be truthful enough.

Comment: Be mindful of the word order with “whites’ bosses”. That made me think of slavery.

Suggestion: Simplicity is their watchword: “staff” for those in white, “guest” for those in blue. Amongst themselves, the staff prefers “doctor” and “nurse”. To the blues, they say “patient”. Simple, yes, but honest? “Criminals” for the white and “victims” for the blue would be more truthful. But that only tells part of the story. The whites have bosses, yet calling them “masterminds” would lend them some level of unevidenced genius. But “accessories” or “co-conspirators” would fit like a glove for most families of those in blue.

This place is supposed to help people, the staff are supposed to look after and care for the guests. People who come here, who are sent here, are supposed to get better, are supposed to go home. You know that (typo alert – what) happens here, though. You know no one gets to go home, no one gets better.

Comment: I like the idea that the treatment here is a farce. I’d play this up a little more.

Suggestion: There is a conspiracy afoot, a collusion rampant among all colors. This place will help, the staff will heal. Come here and get better, get well. Follow our rules, obey our directives and the play the game, nicely. The prize awaits; eventually you go home.

Even the staff get worse the longer they stay.

Comment: Love that!

In another part of the building, another wing, another floor, some great beastly machine surges to life, is put to its designated task. The exhaust fans slow in protest of this new addition, this new burden. The fans take up their normal duty only when the other machine’s job is done, its purpose fulfilled.

In that other part of the building, that other wing, that other floor, someone gets a little worse. – A keeper.

Comment: The first time you have the repetitive “part of the building, another wing, another floor”, it doesn’t add anything. Nor does “new addition, new burden” or “job is done, its purpose fulfilled”. I’m not against the idea of repetition, but these fall flat. I probably can’t do any better, but that’s never stopped me before!

Suggestion: In another part of the building, down an empty wing, on a nearly deserted floor, lies the beast. This monster requires a lot of juice and when it howls, exhaust fans from all over the building stop, as if in fear. These timid fans resume their duty once the beast is silenced, its dreadful duty fulfilled.

Yowza, that was fun. Last comment: Is “only” one of your favorite words?

Ghost in the Machine

[Serzen]

Ghost, I'm going to do some snipping and things. Just so I don't fill up more real estate than needed. It's an old habit from Usenet, what can I say? I think your comments will be in black, my responses in green. I like it as a neutral color for this sort of thing.

“People who come here, who are sent here” for example. I know some patients are voluntary and some not, is that what you were aiming for?

Actually no one is voluntary. This (entire) passage should be read as a combination of internal monologue and assessment of surroundings. "who come here" means 'those who arrive here' "who are sent here" is an internal correction, signifying an awareness that no one would come here by choice.

Comment: I love fragments. I use them all the time. But I think having an actual sentence in the beginning would help the flow.

Note: Since the doctors and nurses seem to be the enemy here, working “hard-soled heels” into “hard-souled staff” might be fodder for a nice transition between these two paragraphs. I’ll leave that as an exercise for you.

It isn't intended to flow. It's just a listing of detail. Think of someone reading a grocery list. To the person making these observations, these things are no different from "bread, butter; meat, potatoes".

Doctors and nurses aren't an enemy, they're just people. Everyone's just people. But what some people do to other people just ain't right. It's a statement about the institution AND about The Institution.

Comment: Be mindful of the word order with “whites’ bosses”. That made me think of slavery.

Anyone who reads that and thinks slavery or racism needs remedial reading. Not a personal attack,not at all, but it's clearly the possessive case. The bosses of the whites. If BROKEN MIRROR ever gets published and someone makes a slavery/racist comment about that line I will personally punch them in the teeth. Then pay to have them re-enrolled in 2nd grade.

This place is supposed to help people, the staff are supposed to look after and care for the guests. People who come here, who are sent here, are supposed to get better, are supposed to go home. You know that (typo alert – what) happens here, though. You know no one gets to go home, no one gets better.

Curse you typos!

Comment: I like the idea that the treatment here is a farce. I’d play this up a little more.

Again me being me, but the line is simply an observation. The individual has no emotion about the observation. You can't play up "the sky is blue." Likewise here.

Even the staff get worse the longer they stay.

Comment: Love that!

Thank you.

In that other part of the building, that other wing, that other floor, someone gets a little worse. – A keeper.

Comment: The first time you have the repetitive “part of the building, another wing, another floor”, it doesn’t add anything. Nor does “new addition, new burden” or “job is done, its purpose fulfilled”. I’m not against the idea of repetition, but these fall flat. I probably can’t do any better, but that’s never stopped me before!

"In another part of the building, another wing, another floor" is the constant self assurance of the observer that "it's over there, it can't get me" or just, generally, "it's far from here so it's not a threat". "This new addition, this new burden" the struggle to come to grips with what it is. It might be something you are aware of, can identify, but your mind shrinks away from it, refuses to label it. "[It's} job is done, its purpose fulfilled" it's not running anymore; I know what that thing is, what it can do; oh, thank $DEITY someone stopped it.

Yowza, that was fun. Last comment: Is “only” one of your favorite words?

Not quite sure what to make of this? A tribute to isolation, do you mean? I'm curious.

I don't want this to come off as poorly as it's going to, and I know that it's going to, but text can't always be read for what it says. It also means something. Reading just the words never does any good unless those words are "insert Tab A into Slot B." I think this passage is an example of that. I think part of the trouble people are having with it stems from the lack of context, but I think that's just a part. Misfortunately, words on a page (or screen) can only convey so much. The spoken word delivers much more; the listener can determine through cadence the intention of the teller. I'd even be willing to record this piece as it's meant to be read and host it, just to see if the spoken word outperforms the written in delivering meaning.

This excerpt is six paragraphs, it bounces back and forth between one thing and another between paragraphs and between sentences within those paragraphs. It's meant to be difficult. Psychosis isn't something we are equipped to deal with (now I'm tipping my hand, but too bad), if it does jive or mesh with us, either we need to go lie down on a couch and talk to someone or else I've written it poorly.

~Serzen

[Lunetta22]

I really don't have much to add that hasn't arleady been said. I love the setup here, you can definitely feel the bleak atmosphere. THe last paragraphs were quite chilling:

In another part of the building, another wing, another floor, some great beastly machine surges to life, is put to its designated task. The exhaust fans slow in protest of this new addition, this new burden. The fans take up their normal duty only when the other machine’s job is done, its purpose fulfilled.

In that other part of the building, that other wing, that other floor, someone gets a little worse.

I would keep reading, but I would need to see the protaganoist fairly quickly to stay interested.

[Ghost in the Machine]

Serzen,

After reading your post on my comments, I feel like a chastised child. Not that I don’t deserve it. However, in my defense, you did invite us to “play with” your work. And that’s all I was trying to do—just play. If you give a toddler an object with no context or instruction, the results will be unpredictable. A flute, for example, may never find its way into their mouth, they’d be just as likely take it and scratch shapes in the dirt or bludgeon their brother. I’ll give you back your toy now and trouble you no further.

As for the “whites’ bosses”, I saw the apostrophe and I did not think for one second this passage was referring to slavery. For months now, I’ve been reading about slavery in the years leading up to the civil war as research for my next book. Needless to say, it’s been on my mind.

You can’t control the associations your writing may evoke, but I hope you can control yourself. If someone accused me of racism, I would probably walk away, red in the face, and find a quiet corner to burst into gales of hysterical laughter. For I may be a “whiter shade of pale”, but my dear spouse of many years has skin on the other side of the spectrum. Remedial reading aside, if you want to punish someone, send them back to the seventh grade instead of the second. Now that would be harsh.

Ghost

[JustineDell]

LMAO, Ghost. I love you!!