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#1
10-25-2009
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Friendship in the Time of Werewolves: my novel
This is the first draft of the first chapter of my proposed Werewolf novel. I am asking for critique.
FRIENDSHIP IN THE TIME OF WEREWOLVES by Bryy Miller Chapter One It was a dark and stormy night. Kind of. It was a dark and stormy night on the movie screen that was playing Universal Pictures’ 1941 classic, The Wolf Man. Lon Chaney Jr. – as Lawrence Talbot – was stalking Evelyn Ankers – playing a woman known as Gwen Conliffe. Even though the movie was an ancient relic of Hollywood’s burgeoning years, the audience still shrieked at surprises, gasped in hushed tones, and even egged on the titular werewolf as he did his deeds. One such audience member, Norah “Gray” Welles, had purchased a large popcorn and was gobbling it up with glee. She loved not only old horror films, but old films in general. If it had Bing Crosby or Fred Astaire, it was golden to her. Danny Kaye or Myrna Loy. This is why she loved the Del Mar theater in downtown Santa Cruz, California; they showed this kind of stuff. She also loved butter, but movie theater butter the most. Her popcorn was drenched in it, so much that she had feared it would dampen the bottom of the popcorn bowl. As the movie came to a climax, she let up on the consumption of corn. This was it. Talbot’s father was about to smite the werewolf version of his son with a silver wolfshead cane. Silver, the natural enemy to a lycanthrope. Of course, that was not from the original lore. The silver bullet craze came along when France was ravaged by a creature called the Beast of Gevaudan, and it was ultimately brought down by a guy carrying bullets made from silver. Of course, this was all legend. France was terrorized by something, but if it was a werewolf, or a pack of werewolves, Gray did not know and was never curious enough to research. Silver bullets, by the way, killed anything unholy in monster literature and lore. So did, to an odd degree, water. Monster fiction was filled with contradictions, as was the way with fiction. It also had to do with the different beliefs of the different cultures. All of this was of no concern to Gray. What was a concern, however, was the climax of the movie on the screen. It ended, people yawned, got up, clapped, and headed for the exits. As Gray left her half-eaten popcorn on the floor next to her seat (the butter being amazing but far too much), she overheard a young couple conspire with their friends to go see the 2010 remake over at the Cinema Nine in an hour or something like that. She smiled silently. Her friend, Paul Hollister, who worked as a concessionaire for the Del Mar, was cleaning the display cases as she walked into the main lobby. “I left you something in the theater” she announced with sarcasm. “Good to know,” Paul responded, focused on the job of spraying down the glass and then rubbing it rhythmically “you coming to the thing tonight?”. Gray brushed back her brownish-black hair, which was already growing again and was an inch or two below her shoulders, and spontaneously decided right then and there to put it into a bun. “Is there something I should know about,” she asked suspiciously “who doesn’t want me there?”. The bun wasn’t working, and Gray let her hair fall where it pleased. It was not that it was unkempt. Just a little… messy. There was a lot of it. Her mind quickly shot back from her hair to more important stuff, such as why she would not be wanted at “the thing”. She could only think of a few reasons: all of them having to do with various people’s problems with her. You see, Gray was great by herself. With others, she was pretty territorial and protective of what was “hers”. “I just thought with all the new recent developments going on, you might want to take a night off” Paul countered badly, convincing Gray that something was up. He finally looked at her. His green eyes met her brown ones with the ferocity of ten stampeding bison. He was telling her to leave it alone. Of course, she wouldn’t. They both knew that. Paul had known Gray longer than any of her other friends at Santa Cruz, even before college at the local university. They both studied anthropology at the University of Santa Cruz. UCSC. Obviously, with Paul working at an art cinema, and Gray frustratingly working at Quartet Records across the street, things had not worked out for either of them as post-grads. Then there were their personal lives. So much stuff to deal with, and Gray didn’t want to worry about the drama with others. So she left without saying another word to her oldest friend. Now, as for “the thing”: there was to be a bonfire on the beach around midnight due to the coming of October. Gray had been attending these shindigs since coming to UCSC, and they had transformed over time into a staple of her time in town. It was small, but every so often, a new person would join the group that Gray would have to eventually accept as one of the team. Sometimes people left after one or two of these, sometimes people stayed. The bonfires lasted as long as they were allowed to, either by police or weather. Gray remembered when they were held in the deep woods, but those days were gone. This was the era of Smokey the Bear. Recently, though, she had come into conflict with the group. Like was stated earlier, Gray was protective. When something threatens to tear open “hers”, she attacks. To be more precise with words and explanations, Gray was one of those people that came from an angry household. Not violent or abusive, per se, but fate did not much care whether or not Gray experienced these things in order for her place of birth to be filled with tension and fear. Her parents would bounce her around, trying to outdo the other, and lil’ old Gray felt it. So she learned very early on to fight for what she wanted. What was best for her. If that so happened to be what was best for the people around her, then so be it. Gray’s life since then had become one big cycle. There’s no stopping a cycle from going around and around in any way, shape, or form once it has started. Or, at least, it is very hard. Gray would go to tonight’s bonfire. She knew who would be there. She knew what to expect. But for the benefit of the group, she would be careful with her words and actions. As she passed a long-closed Quartet Records, she crossed the darkened street and tightened her coat as the crisp chill of October mocked the distance she had yet to travel in order to get to the specified location of the bonfire on the beach. One would not think it right away, but once told that it is incredibly easy for a werewolf to hide amongst civilization under the disguise of night, one would hit their palm to their head. This particular beast had been tracking Gray ever since she left the Del Mar. One would also think that it would be incredibly dangerous to the population for a werewolf to be trotting around the downtown area, but as it was nearing midnight, and as this wolf had picked Gray as its intended hunt for the night, other people were relatively safe if they just stayed out of its way. A common misconception is that werewolves are much more bloodthirsty than regular wolves; but no. When cornered, they fight. When there is a fight they cannot win, they exit. When they need to eat, they hunt. They just don’t go around killing. Some do, but that’s only if they fall under disease or are mentally impaired, much like any other animal that tries to avoid humans. The only difference is that a werewolf is half-human, and as such has less to fear from man. But it still fears. While it is true that they do hunt humans, they would much rather be hunting the local deer families, another animal that has less to fear from man, simply because there were so many in Santa Cruz. This werewolf had wandered into town specifically, though, because The Wolf Man was playing. As a human, it had a werewolf fetish, you see. It’s like dreaming: your subconscious mind controls you to an extent, and on occasion, for a second, you snap and realize that you are in a dream, but unable to do anything about it. So being downtown was purely coincidental. That and the human had feelings for Gray. That’s a big part of it, too. Werewolves love body heat, especially from those that they care for. But feelings aside… it would still eat her. EDIT: Wow, six pages does not translate into a lot here. 
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#2
10-25-2009
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I think you've had too many visits from the exposition fairy.
"Show, don't tell" really applies here. You need to rewrite it so all this expo isn't required.
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#3
10-25-2009
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I do need to figure out what to do with the goddamn middle. Reads like a fanfic. This was originally a script, then a comic.
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#5
10-26-2009
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Whatever you feel like slinging at me.
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#6
10-26-2009
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i think i'll do a blow by blow if that's ok with you... i'll probably post it in a few days.
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#7
10-28-2009
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#8
10-30-2009
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Get him with cow dung ^_^ MWAHAHAHAH ive succesfully posted and my name is everywhere on the majority of threads. [ time to go for the coup de grace ]
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#9
11-02-2009
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#10
11-04-2009
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Friendship in the Time of Werewolves: my novel
This is actually really good! Theres a really good plot to it and it makes me want to read more! Can you post more up, please??
Just a couple of things... Try and stay away from the indepth movie detail. It leaves non-movie geeks like me out in the cold. Also, avoid all the unnescasary narrative introductions such as "One would not think it right away", "To be more precise with words and explanations" and "Like was stated earlier". It makes it less dramatic, I think and it kind of reminds me of the series of unfortunate events where lemony snicket always explains long words. I really liked the paragraph about the cold weather though. Very descriptive!
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#11
11-04-2009
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