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THE WRITING GAME Prompt "SeePainting"
TITLE:Sara
AUTHOR:basric
RATING:pg
WORD COUNT: 585
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Serious constructive criticism
WARNING: none
SUMMARY:A chance meeting at a gallery opening
PROMPTS:sanity, escape, street and
A/N:none
He’d brought his sister to the gallery opening; where she’d been whisked away by friends her own age. He accepted a fluted glass of champagne from the roving waiter and slowly made his way through the crowd pausing before each canvas.
He sighed, the painter had talent but his vision was warped as far as Nick was concerned. He preferred the master’s landscapes or a well done portrait. From the corner of his eye he caught flash of silver in a room filled with black clad women. He turned, frowned over the crowd of elderly men with nineteen year old arm candy. A black tie event with the ladies in black evening gowns most cut low to show off artificial endowments.
Then he saw her, the woman in sparkling silver to match her hair of spun moonlight. Jesus, he was waxing poetic. She was simply gorgeous. Her dress covered her curves neck to toe with sleeves that flowed to her fingertips. She was so dramatically different he had the horrible feeling she was the artist.
He came to stand behind her barely suppressing the shudder at the canvas before them.
She turned emerald eyes to him, “What do you think.” He was tall and too good looking. All that black curly hair and a face of a fallen angel. He had the broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips. She almost sighed aloud in disappointment. She found gorgeous men could never love anyone more than themselves.
“It’s interesting.”
To his surprise threw back her head and laughed, really laughed, “I’m not the artist.”
“Thank God.”
“I just know the family.”
“Do they have sanity issues?”
She turned back and perused the painting for several moments tapping her chin with a silver nailed finger, “You’d think so, but not that I know of. However,” she shuddered delicately, “I’m revising my opinion.”
His sister caught his eye waving wildly, the little brat.
“I must take my sister and her giggling friends to dinner,” he apologized.
She glanced over at the group of teenagers, and patted his arm sympathetically, “Lose a bet?”
“Something like that. Married?” He changed the subject.
“Never, you?” she countered.
“Never, attached?”
“No, and since you asked I assume you are heterosexual.”
“Most definitely.”
“Your name?”
“Nick Constantine.”
She’d heard of him, of course. She took a card from her clutch then handed it to him, “Call me, if you’d like, Nick Constantine.”
She turned and made her escape into the crowd. He had expected the name on the card to be as whimsical as she looked. It just said “SARA” and a number. He wasn’t taking a chance, he took out his phone and entered all the information into it then replaced it and slipped the card into his pocket just as he was surrounded by excited chattering sixteen year olds.
“The limo is waiting go on out and wait for me."
He located the artist and praised his work before asking about Sara.
“Man you’d just be wasting your time there. But perhaps Mr.Constantine you'd be interested in making a purchase?”
A porcelain doll clinging to the arm of a business associate gave a brittle laugh, “Sara is an ice queen. No man melts the ice she has encased around her person. She would be a waste of a phone call, trust me.” Several people around them, including the artist 'family friend' laughed uncomfortably.
“Niiicck?” his sister saved him from responding as she dragged him toward the door, across the street and into a limo filled with giggling teens.
He’d call her, IF he survived this night.
AUTHOR:basric
RATING:pg
WORD COUNT: 585
FEEDBACK: On || FEEDBACK TYPE: Serious constructive criticism
WARNING: none
SUMMARY:A chance meeting at a gallery opening
PROMPTS:sanity, escape, street and
A/N:none
He’d brought his sister to the gallery opening; where she’d been whisked away by friends her own age. He accepted a fluted glass of champagne from the roving waiter and slowly made his way through the crowd pausing before each canvas.
He sighed, the painter had talent but his vision was warped as far as Nick was concerned. He preferred the master’s landscapes or a well done portrait. From the corner of his eye he caught flash of silver in a room filled with black clad women. He turned, frowned over the crowd of elderly men with nineteen year old arm candy. A black tie event with the ladies in black evening gowns most cut low to show off artificial endowments.
Then he saw her, the woman in sparkling silver to match her hair of spun moonlight. Jesus, he was waxing poetic. She was simply gorgeous. Her dress covered her curves neck to toe with sleeves that flowed to her fingertips. She was so dramatically different he had the horrible feeling she was the artist.
He came to stand behind her barely suppressing the shudder at the canvas before them.
She turned emerald eyes to him, “What do you think.” He was tall and too good looking. All that black curly hair and a face of a fallen angel. He had the broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips. She almost sighed aloud in disappointment. She found gorgeous men could never love anyone more than themselves.
“It’s interesting.”
To his surprise threw back her head and laughed, really laughed, “I’m not the artist.”
“Thank God.”
“I just know the family.”
“Do they have sanity issues?”
She turned back and perused the painting for several moments tapping her chin with a silver nailed finger, “You’d think so, but not that I know of. However,” she shuddered delicately, “I’m revising my opinion.”
His sister caught his eye waving wildly, the little brat.
“I must take my sister and her giggling friends to dinner,” he apologized.
She glanced over at the group of teenagers, and patted his arm sympathetically, “Lose a bet?”
“Something like that. Married?” He changed the subject.
“Never, you?” she countered.
“Never, attached?”
“No, and since you asked I assume you are heterosexual.”
“Most definitely.”
“Your name?”
“Nick Constantine.”
She’d heard of him, of course. She took a card from her clutch then handed it to him, “Call me, if you’d like, Nick Constantine.”
She turned and made her escape into the crowd. He had expected the name on the card to be as whimsical as she looked. It just said “SARA” and a number. He wasn’t taking a chance, he took out his phone and entered all the information into it then replaced it and slipped the card into his pocket just as he was surrounded by excited chattering sixteen year olds.
“The limo is waiting go on out and wait for me."
He located the artist and praised his work before asking about Sara.
“Man you’d just be wasting your time there. But perhaps Mr.Constantine you'd be interested in making a purchase?”
A porcelain doll clinging to the arm of a business associate gave a brittle laugh, “Sara is an ice queen. No man melts the ice she has encased around her person. She would be a waste of a phone call, trust me.” Several people around them, including the artist 'family friend' laughed uncomfortably.
“Niiicck?” his sister saved him from responding as she dragged him toward the door, across the street and into a limo filled with giggling teens.
He’d call her, IF he survived this night.
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She turned emerald eyes to him, “What do you think.” He was tall and too good looking. All that black curly hair and a face of a fallen angel. He had the broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips. She almost sighed aloud in disappointment. She found gorgeous men could never love anyone more than themselves.
I'm having a hard time following the POV there, though that's not horrible in the long run.
It's maybe missing some details to flush out Nick and why he's got his sister at such a gallery opening.
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A tiny example: She turned emerald eyes to him, “What do you think.”
You've established early, quite well, that Nick has an keen eye for detail, so let him expand. What emotion did he see there, made him pay further attention? The OFC POV I could most certainly see relevant if there was more to read after this scenario.
The dialogue banter was good - a natural vibe to the back and forth of strangers exchanging information.
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As a reader, words like fluted and roving have a tendency to turn me off. In my mind, they're antiquated words and those, whether it's the case or not, make me think of Harlequin's. And Harlequin's send me heading for the hills. =D
to the gallery opening; where she’d been
Punctuation, not being my specialty, I do not understand the semicolon. =)) For me, reading the sentence, I'd say it doesn't need any additional punctuation (though I suppose I could see an argument for a comma).
From the corner of his eye needs a comma after it.
he caught flash of silver You're miss an 'a' in there, I think.
A black tie event with the ladies in black evening gowns most[add ,] cut low to show off artificial endowments
I really like 'show off artificial endowments'-- that's nicely worded. =)
hair of spun moonlight
I feel like there's a more modern way to express this. There's texture, and dimension, and a witness's finesse that's missing with this kind of description (imho).
She turned emerald eyes to him, “What do you think.” He was tall and too good looking.
You've shifted POV here. You've gone from his head, to suddenly, and to borrow your word, dramatically, hers. That's fine, you can do that in your work, but you'd need to set yourself up as the narrator or give us an omniscient one in that case, or give us a panoramic view to start. That broad, top down view, if that makes sense? We were too bottled up in Nick's head for this intense of a shift.
To his surprise threw back her head and laughed, To his surprise 'she' threw back?
“I must take my sister and her giggling friends to dinner,” he apologized. There's a romanticism in this line that sort of surprised me about Nick. This line, right here, feels the most honest in the piece. I feel like this line is the story.
“No, and since you asked I assume you are heterosexual.” I understand you wanting to touch on this, I think what you're trying to do is paint this almost... challenging relationship-- there's the parry, the dodge, the thrust-- however. This feels disingenuous to a normal conversation. Very few people, even when flirting, will within minutes of meeting each other blurt out, "So, which way you swing?" =D I think you could get there, but this piece would need more content, more context.
I have to say, I love the earlier banter, though. The 'married', 'never' banter. I want to see more of that. Cat and mouse!
Frankly, this has the great bones for an opening to a mystery or thriller. There's just some cleanup (which, that's really the point, isn't it? To get words down on the page. Go back later and mold the clay you've created!) I'd really like to see you continue this!
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At least hopefully I can only get better. Thanks so much, really(=
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Seriously, I don't mean that this is cheesy. I don't. I'm just trying to match detail with language and to find a place for it all. Plus, as I said, I feel that some of this is Harlequin'd, but that doesn't mean cheesy, at least not to me. I hope that makes sense to you. It's about a vibe. And I think you can capture that with more detail and more of your _own_ language. You said that some of this is overheard, some of it is expressed by other people (your sister, staff, on-lookers). So making it your own. I think that'll be key.
The gay thing, now that I'd believe. =)
I just want to reiterate that that line I pulled out of it, “I must take my sister and her giggling friends to dinner,” he apologized is where the story is at. I'm not saying I think you should write about a group of giggling teenagers who get together at Denny's after a gallery opening, but that you write about the brother who is saddled with the sister (for whatever the reason), who is interested in this femme fatale, and who is somehow caught in an intrigue that'll carry your audience away. =)
You-- are welcome. =)
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I really enjoyed the read and would love to see a follow-up to it.
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Agreed with some of the other comments:
a) Could use a bit more details at the beginning as to why he was at the gallery opening to enhance the scene.
b) The paragraph starting with the change in POV, it was a little bit awkward. My mind didn't flow seamlessly into her POV, I had to re-read to make sure it was her POV and to figure out who was saying what.
Very engaging - you had me hooked by the third paragraph, which is a nice time for the hook - it's pretty quick.
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I do agree with what
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Writing alone does have it's pluses.
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This conversasion:
“Something like that. Married?” He changed the subject.
“Never, you?” she countered.
“Never, attached?”
“No, and since you asked I assume you are heterosexual.”
“Most definitely.”
“Your name?”
“Nick Constantine.”
Actually works well for me - if you saw "P.S. I Love You", it reminds me of the way her friend would just cut through the crap, and then just kiss them! LOL 1)Are you married? 2) Do you have a job? 3) Are you gay? If all the answers were right, she'd immediately kiss them and if she didn't like the way they kissed, she'd just say "Nah..." and walk away! It was hilarious, and I love that you wrote it no-nonsense like that. As if to say, "We're not getting any younger, lets get to this." LOL
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