[stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character

[James Canaday M.A. N6YR]

you're welcome Shelley,
however, if she's "the perfect girlfriend" [GF in today's 
texting/internet slang] then maybe she needs to not just stop him, 
but stop him while in the same breath recognizing how painful that 
must be, and because she cares for him, he shouldn't spill his milk 
from his cereal bowl.

"FRET"  I'm gonna suggest you avoid using that there, or use it with 
explanation.  but explanation will water down your pacing 
there.  most people won't know "FRET" and in your intro of people, 
place, time, etc., you don't want to hand them an unknown, I don't 
think, I M H O, in today's terms.

personally, being a guy, I'd like a little more of Streicher's 
physical description early, to be a good handle for him.  I shouldn't 
have to infer he's well built, powerful.
"flirt" is a great and powerful word there.  however tell me a little 
of why he feels the lights are flirting with him.  are they [he 
thinks] trying to pull him away from judy?  are they demanding?  is 
his work on the train like his mistress, much like a ship is to a 
captain in the time of sail?
sadly, most people don't know cabooses are gone from trains, and 
don't know what their purpose was.

okay, on the cold clammy hands, I'm gonna get technical on you.  GSR 
stands for galvanic skin response.  it is one of the measures in the 
so called "lie detector."  it measures something very simple: the 
resistance that skin presents to the passage of an electric 
current.  when someone lies, you're detecting emotional arousal, a 
bit more than just anxiety.   the GSR changes, it becomes easier to 
pass electricity through a patch of skin most particularly in the 
hands,  because of the sweating.  increased moisture decreases the 
resistance.
GSR is a great and reliable measurement.  I think it is still 
considered the least susceptible to faking.  now, voice analysis 
and  blink pattern analysis are other tools available.
when I was a student therapist, I was watching a video of a therapy 
session with my supervisor.  in it, I asked my client about her 
nervousness.  my supervisor stopped the tape and asked "being blind, 
how did you know she was so nervous?"  I said I heard it.  she was 
tapping and shuffling her feet.
there are a dozen or more ways to identify when someone is nervous, 
emotionally aroused.  a quailing voice, often hard to catch unless 
you really listen, is another.
I also like your use of his hands being cold and clammy because its 
something the reader can understand and identify with.  I know it is 
stereotypical of me, but there's some truth in it: large powerful men 
are often more expressive with their hands than their mouths.

you asked about other ideas.  I noted your scene here takes place at 
his workplace.  I've developed that a little in my thoughts.  he's 
got a desireable woman close and intimate with him at his 
workplace.  his coworkers may see this scene.  I can just about 
guarantee you that that man has that running through his head in one 
theme or another.  "wow, the boys can see me here with her, I'm sure 
lucky."  even if he's got this history to share, it is still his 
workplace.  is he wondering if his coworkers will tease him?  is he 
wondering if his coworkers envy him?
yes, men are generally pigs.  and I will admit  to nothing myself.

its good writing and gets the reader's attention.
jc
Jim Canaday M.A.
Lawrence, KS

At 11:09 PM 9/8/2009, you wrote:
>Jim, Hi, I enjoyed your comments on my character, Streicher; very 
>observant. I agree with the cold, clammy hands fitting, they do show 
>anxiety and you picked up on it. He is an engineer you picked up on 
>that, he does have a history with Judy and that's what the story is 
>about, how it develops. This is kind of the midpoint we can't have a 
>story without this. The physical description is pretty much right 
>on, we discover later that he is tall, he is big, not especially 
>athletic, but well built is a good general description. The idea 
>about flirting struck me, I had meant it in the way of love, he does 
>love trains they are his life in a way, but Fred, I actually 
>overlooked that; FRET it should be, not Fred. FRET is an acronym 
>whose full explanation I won't put here because of the explicit use 
>of language, but it's a railroad worker's term for the end of the 
>train which no longer holds a caboose, it is the light at the end 
>that says it's the end of the train. The sentence should be There 
>was FRET, the lights flirting with me. Flirting does signify his 
>attachment to trains, good catch. I wasn't sure if it was obvious 
>that he is an engineer though I tried to make it obvious by saying 
>"Judy Flower, she knew everyone on all my trains" and the references 
>to passengers on his morning run. Your first reading would be 
>correct if Judy meant to cut Glen off at the telling of the story, 
>but she's the perfect girlfriend for him and she understands that he 
>can't tell her the entire story right now I perhaps should make that 
>a little clearer, he says that the story makes him feel sick so 
>there's an implication that he doesn't want to tell it, but he will 
>tell it later after counselling. Good points. I'd be interested in 
>why you think the idea of the cold, clammy hands fits him. He is 
>anxious. he uses those hands later in the story to build things so 
>they're not always cold and clammy though they are important to his 
>character. Thanks for taking the time to coment I'd like to know if 
>you have other ideas. I'll send chapter 2 in a few days in case 
>someone else has any responses about chapter 1. Chapter 2 is a flash back.
>Shelley J. Alongi
>Home Office: (714)869-3207
>**
>NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
>http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>
>**
>To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train accident, 
>Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
>http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>
>updated July 2, 2009
>----- Original Message ----- From: "James Canaday M.A. N6YR" 
><n6yr at sunflower.com>
>To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
>Sent: Monday, September 07, 2009 11:22 PM
>Subject: Re: [stylist] Tell me What You think of my Character
>
>
>>Shelley,
>>you just want comments on the character Streicher.
>>here are some comments:
>>
>>Something not quite entirely formed ticks off in my head about the 
>>sentence  Fred, lights winking, and "flirting with me."  first I 
>>think that's really supposed to be two sentences because the lights 
>>are flirting not fred, right?
>>second, he's having the sensation that the lights are "flirting 
>>with him" implies there's something particularly captivating about 
>>the lights, the winking, the place, for him.  flirting connects to 
>>his lost love and his going to work for the railroad after being 
>>left at the altar, but "flirting" is a really powerful image 
>>there.  the lights capture his attention, arouse his interest and 
>>desire. while "fred" is is coworker, perhaps good friend.
>>
>>>I stopped. I couldn't say anymore. She laid her left hand across 
>>>my cold, clammy hands and rested them on her lap. Her hand 
>>>caressed a long, ragged cut along the top of my left hand.
>>I don't see the uproar.  "cold and clammy sure do fit here to me, 
>>with what's heavy on his heart about to share, and at that he's 
>>sharing it with a woman he cares about. further heightens the 
>>anxiety of reexperiencing the event.  in fact, cold and clammy 
>>hands really fit with other descriptions of him later.
>>
>>Streicher is sentimental.  I'm guessing he's at least age 38.  I 
>>assume he's well built, powerful.
>>
>>he is more in touch with his emotions than most men 
>>are.  apparently he and Judy must have some history because he is 
>>being quite vulnerable with her.
>>I agree with the comments about Judy telling him to stop telling 
>>her right then.  I think I have inferred the reason for it, but at 
>>first reading it feels like Streicher just needs a better girlfriend.
>>
>>Streicher is an engineer?  if so, I think perhaps he'd note some 
>>more specific technical details of the trains passing.  on the 
>>other hand, your descriptions of the trains passing are excellent 
>>elements in the unfolding story and introduction of these two 
>>characters.  I like the "green light" especially.  this interaction 
>>takes place at his workplace.
>>
>>what does fred think of seeing Streicher there with Judy?
>>
>>hope this helps.
>>jc
>>
>>Jim Canaday M.A.
>>Lawrence, KS
>>
>>
>>At 11:46 PM 9/3/2009, you wrote:
>>>Hi Guys, If anyone is up for it I have an exercise for you. I want 
>>>to see how much of Glen's character is revealed in the first 
>>>chapter to see if it lines up with who I think he is. If you're up 
>>>for this, read the first chapter and tell me what you learn about 
>>>Glen Streicher, physically, emotionally, or anything else you 
>>>notice about him. I've been workign with him so long I'd like to 
>>>see what others think.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Flirting with Monday
>>>
>>>Book One
>>>
>>>Chapter 1
>>>
>>>I sat with Judy Flower on the planter perpendicular to the 
>>>railroad tracks, they stretched out silvery in the EARLY 
>>>AFTERNOON, empty, nothing in sight. Then I spied the lights of an 
>>>approaching freight, it flew through the station, the sound 
>>>surrounding us, the long rectangular cars sliding past, squeaking, 
>>>groaning, clattering, gliding along the rails effortlessly. There 
>>>was Fred, the lights winked, flirting with me. The freight 
>>>clattered off into the distance and it suddenly grew quiet, I 
>>>moved next to Judy. She sat silently. I reached out with both 
>>>hands, grasped her slender one, held it in mine, curled her hand 
>>>into my palm, lay my fingers across it.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Judy," I whispered. "Look at me."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>There was something about a train that could melt my defenses, if 
>>>only one layer at a time. I held her hand as if it might be a lifeline.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Judy," I said, her eyes fastened to mine, "I was hurt a long time 
>>>ago. Twenty years ago, before I was hired to work for the 
>>>railroads. A girl; we were going to get married; I showed up at 
>>>the wedding, she wasn't there. The day after that I got my letter 
>>>saying I was hired by the Union Pacific and I left and never saw 
>>>her again. Never."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>I stopped. I couldn't say anymore. She laid her left hand across 
>>>my cold, clammy hands and rested them on her lap. Her hand 
>>>caressed a long, ragged cut along the top of my left hand.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Hush, Glen," she said patiently. "Just hush. No more."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"After all this time," I whispered through the starting of my 
>>>tears, "after telling me I can't face this now you don't want to hear it?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>  I didn't want to tell her any more of the story. The layers I 
>>> had cocooned it in had been ripped away, the wounds fresh and 
>>> stinging. The rest of the story was so painful, it made me sick 
>>> to my stomach. Even mentioning Elizabeth caused cold sweat to pop 
>>> out on my forehead.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"It isn't that I don't want to hear it," she explained quietly as 
>>>my tears started to fall. "It's that you can't tell me the rest 
>>>right now. I want you to face this I don't want to break your 
>>>heart. But you have to face it, Glen. I'll help you. You know that.""
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>She caressed my hand, she laid it on my knee, her warm fingers 
>>>tracing down my wrist, outlining my nails. She twisted the simple 
>>>gold class ring on my finger, the symbol of the one thing we had 
>>>done together before we knew it.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>We watched another train approach. I caught my breath in great, 
>>>heaving sobs. Gently removing Judy's hands from mine, covering my 
>>>face, I leaned forward, choking on painful tears, unable to stop 
>>>them. They were drowned out by the engine and the noise of the cars.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Judy moved close to me, leaning her head on my arm, cuddling up 
>>>like a comforting presence, saying nothing. The last of the train 
>>>swept by, engines behind it pushing the cars forward, and then all 
>>>grew quiet. I eased my hands away from my eyes and pulled Judy 
>>>close to me, holding her almost desperately, my tears dripping 
>>>onto her shoulder, my head resting there. I kissed her.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I'm sorry," I choked. "You are right. I have to face this. I 
>>>can't lose you." I couldn't speak anymore. Moments passed.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"There's a green light," she told me. "I can see another train." 
>>>Judy kissed my cheek, tasted my salty tears, sat their quietly.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Glen," she soothed, "Just remember I'm not going to leave you. 
>>>You came back to me. You want to do this. I promise you I'm here 
>>>now." She turned her head and looked into my blue, streaming eyes, 
>>>wresting my attention. "Sweet Glen, after all this time, do you 
>>>finally believe me?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Her face questioned me, I touched her cheek with my fingers and nodded.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"You're sure?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I'm sure," I whispered. "Finally."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"glen," she said gently, "I love you. I loved you the moment I saw 
>>>your face in that window, the moment you waved at us through that 
>>>window, and I waved back and then I came and said hello and you 
>>>smiled and said hello back. I'll take you with all your baggage. 
>>>I've been around long enough to know that all of us have baggage."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Judy laid a cool hand across my hot cheek, gently eased the tears 
>>>away. She laid her head against my neck. I was glad when the third 
>>>train came through, blazing past us in a roaring spasm of sound 
>>>and wind. The wind blew Judy's golden curly hair across her face. 
>>>I lifted my left hand to touch it. My fingers caressed her hair, 
>>>soft and staticky, the sensation sending electricity through me. 
>>>Quickly, I dropped my hand.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>We sat quietly as the train moved away from the station. The horn 
>>>at the next intersection came to us, haunting and comforting and 
>>>healing and disturbing. My tears kept falling. Judy looked off 
>>>into the distance. She sat back against me, her body giving me 
>>>strength for my painful journey. This had been a long time coming 
>>>and now she focused her full attention on me, the trains and the 
>>>afternoon breeze forgotten. Moments passed and she turned, easing 
>>>herself off my knees, taking my left hand, holding it quietly, 
>>>rubbing my wrist. I sat there meekly, spent, knowing Judy was 
>>>right. It was time. It was time to rip away the last of the 
>>>defenses and get on with my life. Judy had been patiently waiting.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"What was her name?" she asked quietly, reaching out to touch me, 
>>>giving me permission not to answer the question. She put her head 
>>>on my chest, looking up at me. Her look made me want to at least 
>>>tell her part of the story.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Her name was Elizabeth Handling and we were very young. I met her 
>>>in Astoria where I grew up, right out of high school."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>Judy reached into her red shoulder bag and pulled out some tissue. 
>>>She gently wiped my face, the hot skin cooling under her fingers. 
>>>I slid my fingers under Judy's  cheek, turning her face so that 
>>>her lively green eyes looked straight into my red, swollen ones.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I want counseling," I now said, "I'm ready. You shouldn't have to 
>>>hear all of it. I think I just need to see a psychologist. We 
>>>should find one so you're not burdened with all of it. I want us 
>>>to start fresh."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Okay," she said, still looking at me, "if that makes you 
>>>comfortable. I'm your friend, Glen. I'll help you. I won't leave 
>>>you. Do you understand that?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>I nodded.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"Dr. Lee Meadows," she said, "on your early morning run. He's a 
>>>psychologist. And he's a nice man, too, Glenn. Maybe he can help find someone."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>I had to laugh and smile just a little. My Judy Flower, she knew 
>>>everyone on all my trains.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I'll call him," I said, sitting back, relaxing, "I promise."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>We sat there for another twenty minutes. On a Sunday, train 
>>>traffic was lighter. The sun peeped through the overcast sky on 
>>>that Sunday, I sat there, finally easing my hand through Judy's. I 
>>>felt easier, if exhausted. Even if I didn't want to tell her all 
>>>the story today, I knew the hardest part had been done. The wall I 
>>>had constructed around my heart had slowly over the last two years 
>>>been breeched. Over the last week during our painful separation a 
>>>giant section had been knocked down. I sighed, Judy leaned against 
>>>me and rubbed my shoulders.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>  "I love you," she said.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>We stood up, stretching, I gathered Judy to me, holding her 
>>>quietly. Her heart beat strongly against my Union Pacific shirt. I 
>>>patted Judy's shoulder and stepped away from her, just looking 
>>>into her calm, accepting face.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"How many times have you proved it to me?" I asked. "How many times."
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I'll always keep proving it to you Glen if you'll let me. We're 
>>>going to be okay. Now," she rubbed my hands "shall we go home? Do 
>>>you want me to drive?"
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>I looked at my watch. How quickly the time had flown. Tomorrow we 
>>>had to start another week. But it would be a much better week than 
>>>the last one.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"I'll drive," I said. "I'm okay. Finally I am. My train gets off 
>>>to an early start in the morning."
>>>
>>>"Yes, I know," she held my gaze. "And I'll be on it. Right behind you."
>>>
>>>We kissed quietly there by the railroad tracks. Judy put her hand 
>>>through mine like a child and smiled. I took her other free hand 
>>>and kissed it, my lips curled about her fingers.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>"You're quite a girl," I marveled. "Quite a girl."
>>>
>>>Shelley J. Alongi
>>>Home Office: (714)869-3207
>>>**
>>>NFBWD "Slate and Style" editor
>>>http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
>>>
>>>**
>>>To read essays on my journey through the Chatsworth train 
>>>accident, Metrolink 111 or other interests click on 
>>>http://www.storymania.com/cgibin/sm2/smshowauthorbox.cgi?page=&author=AlongiSJ&alpha=A
>>>
>>>updated July 2, 2009
>>>_______________________________________________
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>>
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