"Milk and Snails" Workshop

The story is about two sisters. The older one, Jenny, has recently gotten married and started a career as a ballerina, though she still lives in her parents’ house. The narrator is the younger sister. The first half takes place in the present, when they are adults, but the bulk of it is set in the past when they are young teenagers. The narrator recalls a time when she finds her sister throwing up in the bathroom, discovering that Jenny is bulimic. The story ends with Jenny reacting harshly to her sister finding out her secret and calling her fat.

            During the first read, I had a difficult time figuring out who the narrator was and who were the important characters. I thought Mark would be more involved in the story, but he’s only mentioned briefly. I also wasn’t sure what to make of the details about their mother taking them shopping. It wasn’t until the top of the second page that I realized the narrator was Jenny’s sibling, and then I wasn’t sure if the narrator was a boy or girl until she uses a barrette to open the bathroom door. However, after this the story became much clearer. I was able to understand exactly what was going on, and I thought the closing lines were particularly powerful. There was only one thing I was confused about in the second half. Why was Jenny throwing up if she was taking laxatives?

            During the second read, I found the story a lot easier to follow and noticed little clues that foreshadowed the ending, such as the mentioning of Jenny’s budding ballet career and the line, “And don’t worry I got your damn Chips Ahoy, fat ass!” These were really good details. I think it would be very easy to make the beginning clearer. Perhaps consider taking out the parts about Mark and the mother flirting with the bag boys and establish who the narrator is nearer the beginning. You could do that by saying “my sister” instead of “Jenny” in the opening sentence. On a side note, I also really like the image the first sentence paints. It’s a good detail.

            Overall, I think you have an excellent draft that will flow much smoother once a few tweaks to the beginning are added.

"The Secularist" Workshop

When I first started reading the description of the Secularist, I immediately thought of the villain in Dan Brown’s book The Lost Symbol, the sequel to The Da Vinci Code. Like the Secularist, Brown’s villain was also covered in tattoos. However, as I kept reading, I saw that there was no other similarity—the Secularist just comes off as a villain in the beginning.

            The story is about a man called the Secularist and a girl who has apparently seen the devil. The Secularist is there to assist her people in banishing the devil, who has burnt all their fields. The place is fictional, and very little detail about it is given, but such detail doesn’t seem relevant to the piece. The only important facts are that the town has recently fought for its independence from some unknown occupant and that it is a struggle to retain its power, as it is so weak. The girl and the Secularist have a conversation about power, which becomes the main theme of the work. They talk about how the powerful abuse the weak, and the Secularist believes everyone should “stand” rather than “kneel.” The girl comes to agree with him at the end.

            The first few pages were disturbing, but in a good way. The naked girl in a bath of blue, slimy liquid being watched by a tattooed man definitely sets up a foreboding and uncomfortable tone. A part of me wanted to know the reasons for the blue liquid and head shaving, but I’m uncertain if an explanation is truly necessary. Also, I’m not sure what the girl decided at the end. Does she choose to sacrifice herself or take the Secularist’s power to confront the devil? Maybe you meant to leave it ambiguous, just as she was indecisive about the devil’s offering. It would stay in line with her character, but since neither of the characters really change, I’d like to know what she decides.

"Hurricane" Workshop

The story is about two childhood friends who dare to go surfing in a hurricane. Travis convinces the narrator (I didn’t see a name for the narrator) come with him, though the narrator clearly has misgivings about the adventure. Travis, then, becomes the dominant character in the story, while the narrator is the more submissive character. This becomes even more apparent when Travis is the only one brave (or foolish) enough to attempt surfing in the storm surge. The narrator is portrayed as a coward, especially at the end when Travis leaves him alone on the stormy beach.

I’m guessing that the characters are about fifteen or sixteen, as the narrator states, “I’d never been arrested or gone to a bar or had a girlfriend.” Although there’s no evidence for this, Travis seems older than the narrator because the narrator looks up to him and wants Travis’s approval. Also, when they’re standing on the pier, Travis is more in control of himself, as though he’s a wiser, more experienced surfer. Near the end, I expected Travis to die after he gets pulled under the wave—violent nature pulling low the greater of the two surfers. Therefore, I was surprised that he survived, but the ending seemed fitting. Nature fails to break the one who tries to defy it, as Travis’s surfboard is left intact. On the other hand, the narrator, who is too afraid to challenge nature, is the one who’s defeated and loses his surfboard. Thus, the narrator also loses his friend’s respect.

On another note, I was wondering what happened to Tony. He’s talking to Travis and the narrator on the first page, seeming to dare them to go surf in the hurricane. Yet, he has no interest in going with them. If he is friends with them, why would he not want to join in? As of now, he just serves as a way of introducing the conflict, and then he drops out of the action.

Overall, I thought it was a good piece. Your description of surfing and the storm surge is strong and confident, which I find gives the piece a sense of authority. Good job!

Unspoken

The sun slipped from beneath a cloud, inflating into a swollen orange-pink disc as it neared the line of the river. He found it funny how the larger the sun grew, the cooler its heat became. Even its color seemed to insist on heat, yet…

He strummed once on his guitar.

The water crept lazily onto the sand, a slow wisp or suggestion of a whisper. It came as a breath between notes, as an unspoken answer. It came to rinse the sand clean, but not far enough to wash the footprints.

            He adjusted his guitar, pulling it closer and lifting its neck slightly. When the footprints had been made, they had been soundless. But now they seemed noisier than the waves and louder than the vibrating strings.

            There were three sets of footprints. Two coming, albeit disheveled and half-destroyed, and one going, tiny little impressions that had managed disturb much of the sand in their wake.

            And she’d always complained about grit between her toes. He strummed his guitar again.

            Three little words, and then silence. The rude encouragement of the waves. Perhaps they were too insistent or not insistent enough. The sun had blushed and vanished for the moment.

            His fingers brushed the guitar’s chords to block out the question that had followed. She had left soon after.

            It was a Sunday evening. Why had she said it? After such a pleasant day…

            He strummed the guitar once more. The sun grew larger, lower, and cooler.

Critique of "Tiny, Smiling Daddy"

Mary Gaitskill’s story “Tiny, Smiling Daddy” elicits a cathartic response from its readers through its precise descriptions of emotional states and deft plot revelations. Instantly, sympathy is evoked for Stew when he learns of the article his estranged daughter, Kitty, has written about him. Unable to read the article immediately, Stew is described as feeling “helplessness move through his body the way a swimmer feels a large sea creature pass beneath him.” This sentence conjures a visceral feeling in the reader by pinning a concrete image to an emotion. Such instances appear throughout the story, such as when Stew is driving to the store and feels acutely aware of other people and what they may think of him. “It was as if there were a tentacle plugged into the side of the car, linking him with the random humans who picked up the magazine.” Such visuals help the reader to experience Stew’s feelings.

            Yet one of the strongest elements is the way Gaitskill handles revelation. For nearly the entire story, Stew is the recipient of most of the reader’s sympathy, as Kitty is portrayed as an incorrigible and ungrateful teenager who spurns her parents’ love. For instance, Stew once overhears her calling her mother a stupid bitch, despite all the “lullabies and special times.” However, at the very end, Stew remembers his reaction when Kitty tells him she is a lesbian. “You mean nothing to me. You walk out that door, it doesn’t matter. And if you come back in, I’m going to spit in your face.” Delivering this line at the end flips the reader’s sympathy from Stew to Kitty and changes the perspective of the entire conflict. The reader is finally given a logical reason for Kitty’s behavior, and abruptly becomes disgusted with Stew. Therefore, when in the final sentence Marsha “moved and sat away from him on the couch,” indicating that Stew is alone in his life, the reader finds this fitting. This twist shows how integral plot revelation is to a story.