I'm writing a prolife novel

[prolifenovelist]

Chapter One, in which we meet Miss Dolce Martins and discover many things about her

Dolce sighed.
It was not the first time, either. Sitting in that little internet cafe writing the last few pages of her book gave her many opportunities to sigh wearily at the loud families that walked in and out of the shop, the young cashiers yelling out what number latte each thirsty person wanted, and of course the annoying little pointless bell that announced the arrival of each new costumer. It wasn’t easy being a writer and Dolce scoffed at anyone’s idea that writing ideas on paper was the best way to compose the ideas for a bestseller.
“No,” one could often hear Dolce Martins say, “Book writing is an art.”
Dolce looked at the clock once again. A quarter to eleven. The air of the little shop, “The Coffee Cup”, was beginning to become quieter. The cashiers were just as weary as she and the last family had departed for home, no doubt looking forward to a restful night. Dolce, however, enjoyed no such luxury as excessive sleep. No, she was a woman of work and deadlines, laptops and notes, memos and reminders. She yawned loudly.
“Miss Dolce, we have to clear up now. It’s almost eleven.” a kindly young woman said to her. She was such a contrast to ‘Miss Dolce’ that the sight would have made many laugh. Her young face was full and vibrant with energy and her cheeks were painted pink from a good hard day’s work. Her hair was thrown messily up in a bun with a coffee stirrer keeping it together and in her hand was a teddy bear given to her by one of her favorite family customers just an hour before.
“Come now, Mara, you don’t need to call me ‘Miss’ Dolce.” Dolce said with a feeble attempt at a smile. “’Dolce’ is fine. If you could give me just five minutes to wrap up I’ll clear out, ok?”
“As you wish, Miss-“ the girl started, but with a warning look from Dolce she corrected herself, “Dolce.”
Dolce did as she promised. She saved on her laptop and gathered her notes and with a quick goodbye to the tired-eyed cashiers and coffee makers she stepped out into the bitterly cold night. Wrapping her coat and scarf tightly around her she began the short walk across the street to her apartment.
Now, I believe, it is time I introduce you to Miss Kathleen Dolce Martins, age 23. She, as you may have guessed, dropped her first name, Kathleen, because her friends found it so amusing that her middle name told the world her favorite drink, a cinnamon dolce latte. Dolce had no problem with her middle name, but she found that it caused more amusement and less respect from the business world than ‘Kathleen’ might. But it didn’t bother her very much. She was only 20 years old when she graduated from college with numerous degrees, the majority being in literature and grammar. She was often seen wearing a tight pony-tail to keep her dark brown hair out of her eyes as she puzzled out ideas for her next novel. At a medium height, Her cheeks were growing paler and paler as she spent increasing amounts of time working on these last few pages of "Ambrosia", the young woman's fourth novel. She was a citydweller, and could not begin to imagine how she had spent the first 17 years of her life in a purely country area.
She had grown up in a very small town in Louisiana but had long since lost her accent. It was not difficult to loose one's southern accent in such a place as New York where people ask you to repeat yourself multiple times just to laugh to themselves about your accent.

As Dolce walked into her apartment building she recieved the usual "hello" from George, the custodian and returned the greeting wearily as she stepped into the old, broken down elevator and gently pressed her finger against the number 7 and felt the elevator lift her jerkily off the bottom floor. She remembered the first time she'd ever stepped foot in the elevator. The jerky beginning caused her to squeal and the old custodian, Tom, smiled at her and said, "It's ok, Miss. Most people get used to it fairly quickly." The rest of the ride was just as eventful as the first, as it was normal for the elevator to simply decide it did not want to go to the seventh floor, thank you very much. At times like these it would stop at the third refusing to go on. Today, however, it stopped at the fifth.

Dolce patted the elevator handle and said to it, "It's ok, Missy. You'll make it someday." She didn't know why she named the elevator. Maybe it was because it was the only thing that would let her rant and rave without being suprised that such a well-kept woman could have so many problems. She had grown quite attatched to it, and she felt as if the elevator was a friend she couldn't replace. She felt that if she was an elevator, she would be tired too by 11:15 at night and would not want to travel 7 floors carrying a grown woman either, so she had no problem with walking two more flights of stairs. As she walked she usually heard, even at this late hour, the conversations of people on the other side of the doors. Sometimes she would hear old Mr. Parker, level 4, yelling across to his neighbor "You keep that cat outside, hear? I dont want it taking any more of my food!"
His neighbor would usually reply hotly, "My cat would never steal any of THAT, I assure you!"
Even from the sixth level Dolce could hear the neighbors bickering two floors below. She smiled to herself as she climbed yet another stair. Things were as they should be, and that was Dolce's greatest comfort.
Her stomach growled. She had forgotten to eat, again. She quickened her pace with the thought that leftovers from last nights pasta were still in the refrigerator.
After a few quick minutes she reached her house, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Dolce sighed again, obviously the maid had been watching tv and had forgotten to turn it off just as she had the previous week.
"Wasting electricity... as if I'm a money-making machine..." she mumbled moodily as she moved toward the battered set. A red sign appeared on the television set occupying her attention for a few moments. It read in big, bolded font "ROE VS. WADE SPARKS TROUBLE AT THE CAPITAL." Dolce stopped. This issue had long since plagued the American nation, no doubt it was one of the most controversial issues Dolce had ever witnessed.
As to her personal opinion on it, Dolce didn't really have one. She thought that the issue caused much more trouble than it was worth. She didn't exactly believe that a kid was a kid until it was born so it wasn't bad to kill it, but she thought it pretty selfish that someone should stop having a kid when someone else was waiting years and years to adopt. Dolce didn't really know why she even kept the television on. Either it would be some prochoicer yelling at her for invading on women's rights or some prolifer yelling at the prochoicer to stop killing children. She'd heard all the arguements, seen all the cases, and was tired. Yet, something kept her from turning off the tv as she put her leftover spaghetti in the microwave. Perhaps it was laziness that caused her to leave the tv on as she warmed up her spaghetti and sat down to eat it, but nevertheless that's what she did.
A portly, sandy haired man entered the screen and the little red message shrunk to float beside his great, balding head. “Today,” he said monotonously, “Was yet another anniversary of the so called- “March for Life” in downtown Washington. What is usually a peaceful gathering of church-goers and others against abortion turned out to be a very messy situation. We now go to Barbara with details. Barbara?”
“Thanks, Rob.” Said a blonde, tall woman with ruby-red lips and a forced smile on her face. She stood in beside a rather wild-looking woman wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt. The woman was obviously pregnant. “I stand here with some startling news. Earlier today around noon, this woman was walking into a local abortion clinic. An odd looking stranger in a drawn, brown coat approached her on the way in. The two exchanged no words, but she turned around and ran as fast as she could away from the building as if it was to attack her at any moment. Ma’am, would you please share your personal testimony of the events?” Barbara said sweetly.
“Yes… yes…” the woman shook as she spoke, “yes… I think I can… I was walking… just walking… about to have my abortion, you know… I cant take care of a baby… just about to walk in the door… when…” at this point the woman burst out crying loudly as if she had experienced the saddest drama she could imagine. Dolce was startled. What on earth was this woman crying about? She only met some lonely tramp on the street or something. She took a bit out of her now cooled spaghetti and listened further.
“Perhaps, the police have guessed, this man was a relation of hers or brought back nasty memories. He obviously said something that hurt her…” Barbara ventured, looking intently upon the distressed woman beside her, but she was interrupted by the woman before she could get out another word.
“HE DID NOT HURT ME! You don’t understand! I didn’t either… not for a long time… but I understand now! It’s terrible… I was about to… I was going to…but I didn’t… thankfully… I would have… it would have been…” she sobbed further and further, each word seemed to be either causing her considerable pain or easing her pain, Dolce could not tell.
“Obviously, Rob,” Barbara said, returning to her brisk, cold manner. She seemed to have deduced from the conversation that the woman would not give her any news or make her any money, so it was pointless. “This woman was hit by some force or that man said something to her which caused her to first run away from the clinic as if her life depended on it, and then return some time later whispering something in each person’s ear who approached it which caused them to do the same. One can only imagine what the secret message was.”
Dolce bolted up, her eyes a vibrant blue with the kind of fire in them that only novelists with a good idea got. It was exactly the kind of bestseller she needed! The whole nation would be talking about this tomorrow, the message that changed so many people’s lives… of course! That was her next book, that’s the subject that would sell millions of copies the first day… the girl who found out about the secret. It was brilliant.
She ran to her laptop and ran off the first chapter easily in fifteen minutes. She couldn’t stop now… she was on a roll. But suddenly she stopped. “I only report the truth.” She said quietly, aloud. “I’m going to have to find that secret myself.”
That same night with the knowledge that her original book was still unfinished, she packed up enough clothes and belongings for a few months and set out on the first airplane for Washington DC she could find.

This, my friends, is where our story really begins.

[Cow of Shame]

Doesn't do anything for me. I must say that the writing style is not one that I prefer, not does it hook my attention.

....and I'm too lazy to go through it & give you helpful criticism. Just giving you my first reaction to it, as a cynical individual...

[prolifenovelist]

[quote name='Cow of Shame' date='Jan 16 2006, 02:20 PM']Doesn't do anything for me.  I must say that the writing style is not one that I prefer, not does it hook my attention.

....and I'm too lazy to go through it & give you helpful criticism.  Just giving you my first reaction to it, as a cynical individual...
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Oh, that's fine! Really! I'm onlyl fourteen so I didn't plan on getting great reviews... just trying to get out a message

thank you so much for your time and comments

**Amanda**

[avemaria40]

It's really good so far! Keep it coming!

[Cow of Shame]

[quote name='prolifenovelist' date='Jan 16 2006, 12:39 PM']Oh, that's fine! Really! I'm onlyl fourteen so I didn't plan on getting great reviews... [b]just trying to get out a message [/b]
[/quote]


Yeah, that's definitely the feeling that I got. For me, that's a turn-off.

Keep practicing, though. You'll gain polish after a while.

[journeyman]

the style is vaguely reminiscent of something historical (what I think was Victorian)

since I have no style or polish (I do tend to get distracted by spelling), and despite Cow's comment, the "message" wasn't really telegraphed in the first chapter (the user name and the thread name are certainly a clue), keep on writing

[prolifenovelist]

[quote name='journeyman' date='Jan 16 2006, 03:13 PM']the style is vaguely reminiscent of something historical (what I think was Victorian) 

since I have no style or polish (I do tend to get distracted by spelling), and despite Cow's comment, the "message" wasn't really telegraphed in the first chapter (the user name and the thread name are certainly a clue), keep on writing
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thanks for the reviews, guys.
just keep it coming

[Cow of Shame]

[quote name='journeyman' date='Jan 16 2006, 01:13 PM'] the "message" wasn't really telegraphed in the first chapter (
[/quote]

I disagree. I felt it was quite obvious.

[musturde]

I didn't read it but i thought it was great. Keep writing

[musturde]

Okay, i've read some and from what i've read i've really liked. Keep writing. Your very talented for your age. Keep working and I'm sure you'll go somewhere will this talent.

[Guest Rick777]

[quote name='Cow of Shame' date='Jan 16 2006, 01:20 PM']Doesn't do anything for me.  I must say that the writing style is not one that I prefer, not does it hook my attention.

....and I'm too lazy to go through it & give you helpful criticism.  Just giving you my first reaction to it, as a cynical individual...
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yes you are quite the cynical individual arent you.

[alicemary]

I enjoy writing too, and I encourage you to keep trying OK!!!!
From a purely technical viewpoint, some of your sentences run on too much, are just too long. Try and be a little less wordy and rather two shorter sentences, then one that goes on and on.
I like the first few paragraphs, but the whole pro life thing kind of escaped me...of course it is 1 am, and I just got off a hectic 10 hour shift nursing, so am not thinking too well at this point. Be specific in what you are trying to tell the reader, I kind of got lost in the whole bit about the tv and the gal on it.
You write well(and I tell you this as someone who is very very critical on writing styles and stories, as it is something I too, love to do) Someday I will write that great novel....someday.
Please keep at it!! And let me know what happens to Miss Dolce, ok!!
Alicemary :

[Deeds]

I think it's very good for a 14 year old, definitely better than anything I could have done (or could do now). Your writing is kind of "chick lit" style, which I'm not a big fan of, but it flows nicely.

[prolifenovelist]

thanks a lot for the reviews, guys

this topic is very close to my heart and i felt that (although im not the writing type... actually i've always hated writing essays and creative writing assignments... iv never written anything really before) i needed to write something about this topic that hurts Christ's most precious Heart so much every day. How sad that he sends these amazing gifts to these couples and they throw them away so carelessly! Christ has a plan for every one of them!

Please continue. Of course, school comes first along with varsity sports and my prayer life, but i really will try to keep writing soon i want to find out what happens to Miss Dolce too. she suprises me sometimes .

love always
**Amanda**

[philothea]

I'm not really qualified to critique this kind of thing, but I am impressed with it given your age.

One suggestion: you might want to make Dolce a bit older. It takes at least 3 years from submission of a novel to publication And it usually takes about 10 years of practice before you're good enough to be published.

At 23, to have published several novels, she'd have had to start when she was about 15.

[journeyman]

Who wrote those dragon novels I saw in Walmart? I think the dust jacket said he wrote the first one at about that age

back from google

Christopher Paolini - Eragon - wrote at 15 - now has second book in the stores and still under 20 . . . I'm impressed . . . and depressed . . .

[Socrates]

[quote name='prolifenovelist' date='Jan 16 2006, 02:39 PM']Oh, that's fine! Really! I'm onlyl fourteen so I didn't plan on getting great reviews... just trying to get out a message

thank you so much for your time and comments

**Amanda**
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No offense to you personally, but I'm generally not a fan a "message stories" - pieces of fiction written specifically to convey a religious, moral, or political message (however worthy that message may be).

Such stories usually fail as literature and as entertainment. They typically come off as preachy, forced, and dramatically unconvincing.

Just write from the heart, and the "message" will convey itself.

Anyway, good writing for a 14-year-old!

[philothea]

[quote name='journeyman' date='Jan 18 2006, 05:44 PM']Who wrote those dragon novels I saw in Walmart?  I think the dust jacket said he wrote the first one at about that age

back from google

Christopher Paolini - Eragon - wrote at 15 - now has second book in the stores and still under 20 . . . I'm impressed . . . and depressed . . .
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Yeah, he's the only really young successful author I am aware of. I don't recall if there's any story behind how he got published.

[journeyman]

[quote name='philothea' date='Jan 18 2006, 08:07 PM']Yeah, he's the only really young successful author I am aware of.  I don't recall if there's any story behind how he got published.
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I think he self published (with family assistance) and Knopf picked up the rights