Originally posted by 7ate9I have a family member that has been an alcoholic for about fifteen years. she certainly doesn't know her limitations, but instead drinks until she's out cold. resulting in bruised face and broken bones every now and then. haven't ever seen her puke though.
most alcoholics who wake up in the morning to a beer(or whatever) don't spew up. they know their limitations and and drip feed their bodies.
I really like it. It's pretty hard to get an emotional response from readers from a small tidbit like that, as they haven't seen the characters develop. However, it still did. Good work. Just one thing though, I think you are trying too hard in the first paragraph there to extend the metaphor of the room attacking him. If you find that you have to really push it to get that to work, just leave it.
The half-eaten marmalade sandwich from last night decided to pull George's feet away from underneath him. He dropped the bottle and waved his hands to try and keep balance; reaching for something steady to hold on to, but the whole room changed its relative position in a matter of seconds. As much as he tried to control it, it just wouldn't obey the laws of physics. That's when the deceitful, tapestried brick wall seized the opportunity and threw a crippling blow to the back of his head. He could hear his own skull crack. The room changed direction and the floor smacked against his backside hard and without mercy. The bottle exploded vodka and shattered glass all over him. He was being mercilessly beaten up by his own apartment. Talk about irony. Having survived everything he'd been through, only to end up like this.
For a moment the haze was so strong that he could barely see through it. The grayish white roof too bright to look at. He could smell nothing but his own suffocating body odour, the stench of his dirty underwear lying next to him, and the spilled out vodka. He felt a strong need to puke; so he did.
George wasn't aware of how long he had been lying there, when the bedroom door slowly opened from the outside. It brought with it a killing light that abruptly brought him back to the realisation of his predicament. Yet he was unable to get up and away from it. He could just turn his head side to side. Every attempt he made to sit up was quickly and harshly worked against by the room shifting it's position, such that he found himself lying flat on the floor again; with more pain surging through him as the floor not only came up to meet his back, but pound hard against it everytime.
And the tragedy of it all was that even then, even whilst laying on the floor, covered in his own dried blood, vomit and vodka, he could think of little else than having a glass of said liquor. He wanted it now more than ever. To help him get away from this crazy apartment spinning around him; mocking him for his weakness. He needed to passout completely. The pain was unbearable. He began to laugh for no particular reason.
"Dad?"
Adrian came walking through the door, but stopped still and covered his mouth when he saw the mess.
"Da-ad?"
His still idolised his father; [/b]laying[/b] there, defeated by brick and concrete. Adrian's eyes filled with tears. He was holding a football under his left arm and then George remembered. He had promised Adrian that they'd play
football today. He had promised to be sober, and that this was their day.
A deep remorse overtook him completely; almost killed him, but what
did that matter now?
"Do yo-ou need he-elp?", Adrian asked, sobbing.
"Uuh?.. No... no son. Just..." George focused hard to look at Adrian,
"Just leave me alone for a while and everything will be... will be fine.
Ok?"
But George couldn't see what Adrian saw. And despite being so young, Adrian knew exactly what to do by now. This wasn't the first time. So, it was just a matter of minutes before the ambulance arrived. And while they carried him out on the stretcher he looked at Adrian, standing next to the police officer and said: "They'll just take me away for a while, ok? I'll get better, and then we can play football again." Raising his
voice so that Adrian could hear him as they carried him downstairs: "I
promise, son! We'll play football when I get back!"
But Adrian knew that George, his dad, wasn't going to come back any
time soon. Adrian knew and it made him sad. He couldn't even raise his
voice enough so that George would hear him.
"Yes, dad! We'll play football!", he whispered while looking at his feet, trying so hard not to
burst out in tears.
------------------------------------------
There's not a lot to go on here, but first reactions are you really need to work on your tenses and your use of its and it's. As to storyline, this sort of plot needs to be thick and anxious to capture the nature of struggling with/against alcoholism. At the moment it comes across as a sober guy writing what he thinks an alcoholic might act/say, although as I said, there's not a lot to go on.
First impressions are that if the book is more of the same, it needs work; a lot of it. But then, most books do and I imagine it's your first draft. My advice is to talk to as many people as possible about alcoholism and share the story with more for feedback. Consider which sections of the book work and which don't and how you'd be best to go about re-writing them. Remember, if the book is purely form George's point of view, you need to think like he does. If it is from the view of multiple characters, the different sections of the book these characters have shold be written in different styles to reflect that, unless you intend to narrate it heavily from a single style of your own.
Originally posted by wormwoodAnd I'll bet even with all that drinking she never had hangovers either!
I have a family member that has been an alcoholic for about fifteen years. she certainly doesn't know her limitations, but instead drinks until she's out cold. resulting in bruised face and broken bones every now and then. haven't ever seen her puke though.
My sister was married to two men who were both alcoholics (and she didn't even drink). I have friends who drink heavily but they never appear to be drunk, throw up, or have hangovers. Some of them even play speed chess pretty good after downing a pint of liquor!
Edit: And just for the record, a pint only get's an alcoholic started. My nephew buys whiskey by the gallon and pours it into a fifth bottle so that people think he's only drinking a fifth at his house party.
Originally posted by StarrmanI'm writing in swedish though, so a lot of your corrections don't apply (though I greatly appreciate them). I never did get the use of it's and its. We have no equivalent in swedish grammar (I think - though I could be wrong). At least it's not used a lot. I seem to remember something about posessive form, but I'm not sure. ???
The half-eaten marmalade sandwich from last night decided to pull George's feet away from underneath him. He dropped the bottle and waved his hands to try and keep balance; reaching for something steady to hold on to[b], but the whole room changed its relative position in a matter of seconds. As much as he tried to control it, it just wouldn't ...[text shortened]... nd to narrate it heavily from a single style of your own.[/b]
I like your advice that I should write different parts of the book in different styles to reflect the character's* point of view. That one I will experiment with. Rewriting is obviously necessary. I must thank you and everyone else for helping me not only realise the flaws in my writing, but suggesting how I can improve it. That's exactly what I hoped to receive.
My own father was an alcoholic, but I never got to know him that well. He died when I was still very young (I'm still just an infant as it is). So, embarrassing as it is to admit, I suppose all I really know about alcoholism is what my mother and older siblings have told me (and what little discussion there was back in the schooldays). I really should get out there and speak with people whom has experienced it either first hand or recently. Do my research a little better.
Again, thanks for bothering with this. I appreciate it. 🙂
* That's the wrong use isn't it? "Characters point of view"?
Originally posted by arrakisYer wrong on all counts arrakis. alcoholics most certainly do get sick and have hang overs. and they fall down when they overdo and things start spinning
I don't mean to be cruel cause I like you, stocken, but the story is absolutely horrible.
Why is it horrible? Cause you try to describe a scene that an alcoholic might go through, but you apparently know nothing about alcoholics.
They do not puke.
They do not have hangovers.
Alcoholics might fall down down, but not the way you describe it - they woul ...[text shortened]... ning around them.
Only non-alcoholics who get drunk have those symptoms. Alcoholics don't.
where do you come up with such nonsense?
Originally posted by stocken"it's" and "its" catches out a lot of people in the English language. The apostrophe is dropped in the case of possessiveness to avoid confusion with "it's", which is used to shorten "it is" or "it has". It is an exceptional case so it is understandable why you would make that mistake, especially when English isn't your first language.
I'm writing in swedish though, so a lot of your corrections don't apply (though I greatly appreciate them). I never did get the use of it's and its. We have no equivalent in swedish grammar (I think - though I could be wrong). At least it's not used a lot. I seem to remember something about posessive form, but I'm not sure. ???
I like your advice that I s ...[text shortened]... I appreciate it. 🙂
* That's the wrong use isn't it? "Characters point of view"?
Originally posted by stockenone of the most striking things about talking with other people who have an alcoholic parent, is that all drunks seem to be almost identical. the same excuses word for word, lies, bruised faces, low self-esteem etc. - also the ways to cope with a drunk are similar. it goes from compassion to hate to indifference, over and over and over again.
I really should get out there and speak with people whom has experienced it either first hand or recently. Do my research a little better.
also, even the most hardened drunk is very, very sensitive and fragile.