The Word Cloud

Hi folks,

Joining the cloud has been the perfect antidote to my procrastination. I'm pretty terrible at getting things done to be honest but it's good to be part of such a creative, engaging community. I wrote this story at the weekend and would be grateful for feedback. Maybe it falls down on the wrong side of sentimental, maybe not.


They walk to the park in silence. At the gate, Sam slips free of his dad’s hand and runs down the hill, towards the River Lea and the canal. The wide open spaces remind him of home - of St Leonards and exploring the coastline with his old black lab.

The boy goes to the river’s edge and throws a small pebble into the water. A swan bobs its head in curiosity, then glides on. A friend once told him a swan had killed his dog. He didn’t believe him then and he doesn’t believe him now.

They walk together along the river. A duck makes its way through a film of green sewage. The boy holds his breath. Further along, a large dog peers at him from the roof of a canal boat. He waves and the dog jumps to its feet and barks.

After a while, he says, ‘Why’s mum always angry?’

‘That’s not true, Sam.’

‘Yes it is.’ Since they had moved to London, she had not been like his mother at all. She barely spoke and when she did, she told him to go away, or to shut up, or to stop staring at her. That morning, he sat on the chair in the corner of the kitchen and watched as she painted. Her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, one eye half-closed. Even her clothes these days were strange. Baggy jeans and T shirts stained with dark browns and greens. When he asked what she was painting, she just shook her head.

He says, ‘She’s always angry with me.’

‘Your mum’s finding it hard to adjust, that’s all. You didn’t like it when we first moved.’

‘I don’t like it now.’ He hates his new school. He misses his friends and the little terraced house with its back garden that overlooked the marshes. Most of all, he misses Bessie. Mum said she had gone back to where she had come from before she was born. Dad said she had gone to heaven. On balance, he believed his mum. One minute she was there and the next she was gone. ‘That’s life,’ his mum had said. ‘Everything changes.’

They stop at the ice cream van and sit on a bench in the gravel car park, opposite the boat club. A cyclist follows a group of five rowers from the river path, shouting instructions from a megaphone. Sam sits on a bench with his cone and stabs at it with his tongue.

His dad rolls a cigarette and sips at a plastic cup of coffee. After a while, he says, ‘Your mum wanted to come here, you know? She wants to set up a gallery with Sally.

Sam says, ‘I wish she hadn’t.’

‘It’s important to do what you want in life, Sam. Before it’s too late. And that’s what your mum wants to do.’

They walk back along the path, towards the park. They pass the bridge and the small café that smells of chips.

Sam lags behind, kicking a stone along the path. He says, ‘She doesn’t think that anymore.’

‘Think what?’

‘That she can do what she wants to do.’

His dad stops, puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. ‘Why do you say that, kiddo?’

‘I heard her on the phone.’

‘Heard what?’

Sam kicks the stone and it bounces into the grass. He goes to fetch it. When he comes back, he says, ‘She was talking to Aunt Sarah.’

‘And what did she say?’

‘She said she hated it here.’

‘In London?’

‘I guess.’

‘Don’t mumble.’

‘I’m not.’ The boy refuses to meet his father’s gaze. He looks down at his feet. Eventually, he says, ‘If she goes back, I’m going too.’

‘Your mum is upset about a few things, that’s all. She’s not going anywhere.’

Sam blushes. ‘She can’t even paint, so I don’t know why she’s trying.’ He had hated overhearing the conversation, but had felt compelled to listen from the safety of the landing.

‘What’s got in to you?’ His father asks.

The words come out in a gush. ‘That’s what she told Aunt Sarah. That’s all. She said she can’t paint.

‘Sam, come here.’

‘And she was crying dad, proper crying.’ It had been worse than he could say. He had heard terrible things said about his father too. How he never showed an interest in her work, how he was stupid and boring.

‘Sam, come here please.’

His lip trembles and he shakes his head and turns to run. He runs to the top of the hill until he can longer hear his name being called. From his vantage point, he can see beyond the river to the reservoir, the train tracks and the marshes.

He wants to cry because it was wrong of his mother to call his father a failure. That was just wrong.

Next to him, on the grass, a man sits cross-legged on a rug. He is spraying sun tan lotion onto a little girl’s arms and legs.

Sam points at the object on the ground by the man’s side. It is yellow and green and blue and streamers lie around it in the grass. ‘What’s that?’ he says.

The man looks up. ‘It’s my kite.’

‘There’s no wind.’

A single white cloud drifts across the sky. ‘There’s enough. Right up there, there’s enough. You just have to get it there.’

‘It’s pretty,’ Sam says. He looks closer at the pattern of triangles, arrayed in spirals.

‘It sure is. Reminds me of home.’

The boy looks blank.

‘Bermuda. You heard of it?’

The boy shakes his head.

‘When I was a kid, everybody used to fly kites on Good Friday. They say, and I don’t know if I believe this, that a Sunday school teacher was trying to teach kids about the resurrection, so he took a kite and painted Jesus’ face on it.’ The man laughs at himself. ‘What do you think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Now, every Easter, the whole island is full of kites, beautiful kites.’

Sam looks round. His dad is making his way towards them. He says, ‘I don’t think you can fly a kite with no wind.’

The man lets out a deep, slow laugh. ‘Do you want to make a bet on it? What you going to bet me, boy?’

Sam takes a penny from his pocket and offers it to the man.

‘You give me that when it flies. Okay?’

Sam nods. He waits for his dad to arrive, then says, ‘We’re going to fly a kite.’

‘Sam, I don’t think the gentleman wants you bothering him.’

The man looks up and smiles. ‘It’s no bother. We can give it a little go.’ He puts a sunhat on his daughter and hands her a bottle of water. Then he gets to his feet and claps his hands. ‘This is gonna be tough though, boy. You up for a challenge?

Sam nods.

‘Can you feel the breeze? What way’s it going?’

Sam points towards the river.

‘That’s right, so I’m going to go down there. That’s called downwind. That’s where I need to be with the kite. The wind flows over and above it, just like a plane does. High pressure below, low pressure above. That’s how it flies. It’s an aircraft. You understand me?’

Sam nods. ‘How high will it go?’

The man laughs. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself. Now I’m gonna hold the kite, you’re gonna hold the line.’

He hands Sam two plastic handles, unravels some line and walks backwards down the hill. He stops when he is near the river. He has to shout to be heard. ‘Now when I say go, you gotta turn and run, as fast as you can, okay?’

Sam takes a deep breath.

The man is crouching down, clutching the kite. He seems a long way away. He lifts up his hand and counts down on his finger from five, then he says ‘Go!’ and thrusts the kite into the air with a yell.

Sam turns and runs. The line catches and jerks his arm back. He keeps running. When he looks back, the kite lies on the ground, halfway between him and the man. He drops the handles. ‘What happened?’

The man picks up the kite and runs back up the hill towards Sam. ‘It was close, I’m telling you.’

‘I ran really fast. That’s as fast as I can run.’

‘You can run faster!’ The man flashes him a smile. ‘Let’s try again.’

‘Let me help,’ Sam's dad says.

Sam gives him one of the handles.

‘You ready, son?’ The man shouts from the bottom of the hill. He counts eight, seven, six.

Sam says, ‘You’ve got to run really fast, dad. If we don’t run fast, it won’t fly.’

The man yells, ‘Three, two, one!’ And throws the kite into the air for a second time.

They run together up the hill. The line tugs hard. They can hear the man shouting ‘Keep going! Keep running! It’s going up.'

Sam’s heart races. He looks behind him. The kite is in the air, only a little higher than the trees. It veers downwards, appears to take flight again, then threatens to crash to the ground.

‘Now give it some line! Stop running and give it some line.’

‘Like this Sam, let the line go,’ his dad says as he unravels the string from the handle.

The man shouts, ‘The winds gonna take it. The winds gonna take it.’ He makes a tugging gesture with both hands. ‘Tighten the line.’ Sam pulls down and the kite rises. ‘Now give it more line, just a little now.’

‘It’s going dad, it’s going higher.’ Sam covers his eyes and looks up.

The man has rejoined them at the top of the hill. His wipes his sweating brow with a crumpled t-shirt on the rug. ‘A little higher now, we’re almost out the danger zone,’ he says.

The kite is becoming smaller and smaller. A few onlookers have gathered to watch. ‘I can’t believe how high it’s going,’ Sam says. ‘If you see a plane, dad, steer to the left, okay.’

Sam gets the penny out of his pocket and holds out his free hand to the man. ‘It’s going as high as the clouds,’ he says, grinning.

The man shakes his head. ‘You keep it. Use it to make a wish.’

It is dusk when they get home. Sam heads for the kitchen where his mum is painting. He looks over her shoulder. A small canvas: rough seas and a pebbled beach. A little boy and a large black dog, barking at the waves.

He takes the penny from his pocket, drops it into a jam jar full of paintbrushes and makes a wish.

She looks round, startled, then smiles. ‘What are you up to cherub?’

‘Nothing,’ Sam says. ‘Just saying hello.’

‘I’m finishing up here darling. Give me five minutes and I’ll come up and read you a story.’

‘Okay.’ He shuffles off slowly.

‘What’s the matter baby?’ she asks.

Sam stops in the doorway. ‘Your picture’s really good, mum.’

‘Thank you darling,’ she replies.

‘Really good.’

She laughs. ‘That’s nice of you to say so.’

He leaves the room and shuts the door quietly. He goes up to his bedroom and undresses for bed. From downstairs, he hears raised voices but cannot make out the words. After a little while, his door opens and his dad comes in.

‘Where’s mum?’ Sam says.

‘She’s a little upset, that’s all. She’ll be up in a minute.’

‘Will you read me a story?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘Do one of your made up ones.’

His dad sits on the edge of the bed and kisses Sam. He turns off his bedside lamp and pulls up the duvet. He begins, ‘There was an amazing little boy who lived near the sea.

‘He had a big black dog, that was very faithful, and her name was Bessie. Together, they went seeking adventures…’

Hi PJ, me again....

I think this was not quite as good as your previous post, but has potential and maybe just needs tightening up a bit in places. The theme is good, and well done for telling from the boy's perspective. And I liked only realising at the end that Bessie was the dog! (might just be me being slow though)

Here are some (I hope) constructive criticisms!

1) I was confused as to how old Sam was. He seems quite old, because he is very aware of his mum's state and quite insightful about it all. On the other side the fact that he was holding his dad's hand at the start made me think he was about 5....? You might want to give a few more clues here.

2) In the 1st para, I wasn't sure whose POV we were in. Talk of "home" "St Leonard's" "exploring the coastline" and the "old black lab" made me think it was an adult - the dad - because it sounded like someone much older reminiscing. How can you put this more into child's words? Alternatively, I wonder if you could move this sentence later somehow, as it is a bit confusing when we haven't yet got the context that Sam and his family have moved up to London. (Children of Sam's age haven't usually "left home" which is what this implied to me)

3) There are a few other aspects that jarr with Sam's child's POV, e.g.
"How he never showed an interest in her work, how he was stupid and boring." - I think Sam would only really "process" at his age "How he was stupid and boring." so you might take the other bit of the phrase out (I don't know if Sam would real understand the concept / meaning of this?)
Also - why does Sam show no interst in the man's daughter? Surely as a child he would be very drawn to another child? Given that she doesn't add anything and seems like a "red herring " I wonder if you just take her out?
Is "blank" how Sam would look when the man mentions "home"? Why is this idea so baffling? Home could be up the road! I would expect Sam to be curious if anything - it resonates with his own experience...

4) There is something not quite right in the "shape" of your story.
a) Sam is upset by mum's depression
b) Sam talks with his dad who tries to reassure him, but Sam is still upset
c) Sam flies the kite with Dad - initially it fails, but then it flies and Sam feels better
d) Sam takes his good feeling and his wish home and passes it on to him mum
e) Mum seems more cheerful
f) Mum is depressed again
g) Dad and Sam have a happy story

I think that f) needs to change, as it seems to throw your story arc backwards again and undermine it's "It'll be OK" resolution. I think you could end much more elegantly on a note of hope, by cutting out the "raised voices" and maybe replacing "‘She’s a little upset, that’s all. She’ll be up in a minute.’" with "She's finishing the painting. She'll be up in a minute."

Hope the above helps! Just my thoughts though, so feel free to ignore. Glad the procrastination has been banished!!!

Hi Philippa

Thanks for your incredibly helpful and insightful comments. They resonate with what I felt was problematic but couldn't quite pinpoint.

1. In my head, he was about eight or nine. I can see that with the clutching his dad's hand, it seems younger and perhaps the POV is a little confusing at the opening. Thanks, I'll rework that.

3. Yes I can see that the child's POV might not quite work here. I was trying to reflect that it was an overheard converstaion and Sam is sort of repeating what he's heard, but yes, if you're eight, then there are only certain words you'd compute and remember and reflect on. I must admit, it was the first time, I'd tried to write something from a kid's POV and found it tricky.

4. It's funny that you pick up on the redundant child of the kite flyer. In a first edit, she played a bigger role. Sam stumbled across her and the father by the river but Sam's dad swiftly moved him on when Sam tried to engage them in converstation. I felt that didn't work, moved the girl and the father to their current place in the story, but kept the girl, just because she had been in the first draft. So you're right, she's totally redundant! I should have got rid of her when I reworked the first draft.

5. Story arc does seem a little confused when you break it down like that. I was kind of aware of that, but perhaps on some level was hoping that it would work by subvering expectations of narrative arc a little. But if it it jars, it jars.

Thanks again for your thoughts on this.

Yeah, I read it back to myself with changing the arc point "f)" and I got this sense of the real power of a child and how they can make a huge difference to how an adult feels. He basically says to her exactly what she needs to hear, and without even really realising it he sort of makes his own wish come true! It gave me a nice feeling...

Hi,

At the gate, Sam slips free of his dad’s hand and runs down the hill, towards the River Lea and the canal. The wide open spaces remind him of home - of St Leonards and exploring the coastline with his old black lab.

- my first thought - slips free of his dad's hand - must be a wee boy - who was reminded of home / St Leonards / coastline exploring with a 'long lost' black dog... ????


... again... - how old is Sam to understand - Her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, one eye half-closed. Even her clothes these days were strange. Baggy jeans and T shirts stained with dark browns and greens.

"I quess." - terrible terrrible terrible - even if true - don't write it - it's shocking that this is allowed on the Cloud.

As a father of three children - 22, 5 , & 3 - Sam's age is the defining fact - everything falls down when the reader has 'got' the age and then Sam comes along with 'adult' - not only thoughts but 'analysis'

- am I right in thinking this is another ' write what you know' or 'write what you wished'?

... get Sam's age into the reader's head at the start - re-work what is a moving story from that ages POV - you - stop interfering.

Re-work and re-post - all the lements are there for a tear-jerker

Hi Pj,

Setting aside age concerns. I agree with Philippa. As written, the story goes nowhere. The situation at the end is the same as it was when it began, so essentially nothing has happened. It doesn't necessarily have to be a positive ending, Mum could decide to leave rather than stay, for example, but it does need something to have changed.

At the moment its a charming read but that's all.

Thanks Malcolm and Biker, I'll rework it over the weekend and see if I can nail the POV and give it more of a satisfying narrative conclusion.

Biker - it was sort of a write-what-you-know. Was based loosely on a scene I watched unfold while reading in the park a few summers back. There was a guy who was so enthusiastic about helping this kid and his dad get a kite in the air. They'd been strangers at first but by the end were slapping each other's hands and cheering as this kite went up and up.

Not quite sure I understand how the 'I guess' is such a faux-pas though. Isn't that the kind of thing an eight-year-old boy might mumble when pressed on a something he doesn't really want to talk about? Or am I missing your point here?

Hi PJ

I quess - too - utterly - without doubt - the MOST - AMERICAN - expression - even if a british/english/scottish/welsh/irish -kid 'would say it - IT will take the reader so far away from reality of the child's story.

Hey - love the son - dad thing - been there myself - BUT - you need to nail the age of the son - then write this from HIS point of view - get into your own head when you were that age.

The only other option is - you are the son and you're looking back - remembering

The 2nd option is easier - writing the story in a boy's pov is much harder - BUT - you are a writer and I believe you can do it - also - it'll be a better story.

As ever - ditch at will.

Hi Pj

I thought this was a charming story, and well told. I was quite swept away. However as the others have said, there were some problems.

I agree with what the others have said about it being important to pinpoint Sam's age, also about the redundant child, although I see it makes the kite man safer, having his daugher there with him. Perhaps if you show that she's less enthusiastic about the kite than her father it would give the father a reason to engage Sam instead.

But for me, the biggest problem was the lack of resolution. Something should change in the course of a short story and this didn't happen here. The kite flying seemed like a metaphor for what you can achieve if you keep trying; you conveyed a sense of exhiliration which swept the reader along. But when Sam and his father return home, we find the mother despite painting better is still depressed, and we are left with a sense of hopelessness and anti-climax.

I wonder if there are too many things going on here for a short story - ie lots of things seen through a child's eyes and not fully understood, ie mother and father's troubled relationship, mother's frustration and depression over her failure as an artist, the loss of the family dog, and nostalgia and a sense of loss for a previous home.

On the positive side, I thought the kite-flying was well described and the dialogue natural. And the father-son relationship was touching.

Heidi

Hi Heidi

Thanks for your comments and advice. I'm definitely going to rework the ending so it doesn't leave people feeling flat. You're right, it doesn't quite work and there needs to be an element of change for it to be effective. I'm not quite sure why I ended on such an anticlimax. The kite-flying was supposed to be a symbol of hope and transformation and in retrospect, I don't know why I kept the mother being depressed when they get home. Thanks again for reading and I'm glad you found the father-son relationship charming

Pj

Hello Pj - this got me straight into Mary Poppins - call me a sentimental old thing but I love the scene where Mr Banks goes out to fly a kite with his children after being sacked from the bank, and the way you used this symbol of hope makes the nucleus of a lovely story. Of course it tugs at the heart-strings but there are plenty of magazines that publish stories like this.

Thanks for the advice Secretspy, much appreciated. The boy is supposed to be about eight or nine. You're right, his main fears should be about his changing situation and the move and we should only glimpse mum's painting problems obliquely. I'm going to have a tinker this weekend. Funny it made you think about Mary Poppins, I'd completely forgotten about that scene. But what a gorgeous film! Thanks again for reading

Hi PJ,
I like your story and you began to create a strong image of the scene in my mind, which really helped to carry the story. One thing that I think you could do to improve it is to look at your use of language and how it could make the story richer.
E.g. "He hands Sam two plastic handles, unravels some line and walks backwards down the hill. He stops when he is near the river. He has to shout to be heard."

Three sentences all beginning with 'he' - you could do a lot more with your use of language to make this feel less like a list, more natural. Just changing your word order can change the impact of a sentence.

I also think that you could expand your descriptions in certain places.
E.g. "The boy goes to the river’s edge and throws a small pebble into the water. A swan bobs its head in curiosity, then glides on. A friend once told him a swan had killed his dog. He didn’t believe him then and he doesn’t believe him now."

In this paragraph I would love to really see the ripples in the water that disturb the swan, or hear the plop that it makes when he tosses it in. I would like to see Sam examining the swan, perhaps noticing the subtle strength that lies beneath its elegant glide, judging whether or not it is powerful or vicious enough to take down a dog. These thoughts, plus the sight of the dog on the canal boat, could evoke powerful memories of Bessie, memories that are entangled with his worries about his mum, compounding his dislike of their new life.

These are just a couple of suggestions and I am by no means an expert; feel free to do what you wish with them! Good luck with your writing, I think this story has excellent potential.

Thanks for reading and for your comments. I'll definitely take them on board.