Ch.1, Pt. 2: The next day, Katherine returned to the house for a closer look.
The next day, Katherine returned to the house for a closer look. The “for sale” sign sat in a metal holder by the side of the road. A clump of trees hid the house. Only the dark roof and a corner of the grey stone house was visible from the road. Katherine pulled slowly into the driveway to see more of the house. There were two parts, a square two-storey structure close to the road, and a low, one-storey wing, perhaps a later addition, stretching behind at right angles. The front section had two first-floor windows and a central one in the second storey. The single-storey wing had a door and one window. Large flat stones that were windowsills stuck out a little from the grey walls. The windows were dark, and on the inside hung dingy yellow pieces of fabric that might once have been curtains or lining. The house looked abandoned. There were no cars outside, only a few rusting farm implements near the little barn in the back. The barn was sagging slightly and the door hung open, showing a dark interior. Katherine stepped out of the car and slowly turned around to the road. Rolling fields stretched away from her to a forest on the horizon. She turned slowly back to the house, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of it, her heart gave a great thump and she felt a swoop in her middle. There was something about the place. I want it, she thought.
The feeling of excitement only grew during her first viewing. Marjorie, the real estate agent, turned the key to the side door carefully, protecting her long red fingernails, and Katherine stepped inside. Although there was gold medallion vinyl on the floor and a couple of metal shelf units full of dust-covered old jars lined the walls, Katherine pictured the room filled with lovely wooden furniture, coat hooks holding jackets and hats against the wall, a cosy rag rug at the door. “Beautiful,” she murmured, and Marjorie gave her a swift glance before opening the door leading into the main part of the house.
Across from the door was a staircase leading up to the second floor. To the right was the kitchen, a large room with white cupboards along one wall, surrounding a grimy but large window. The sink was an old stained ceramic piece complete with draining boards spreading out like wings on either side, but Katherine pictured it gleaming white with a pot of chives on the windowsill. Against the right wall was a huge black cast iron stove with feet. Katherine’s mouth dropped open.
“Don’t worry about this stove,” Marjorie said quickly, tucking a curl of red hair behind an ear. “It’ll be taken out before you move in, and then you can put your new range here.”
“It’s fabulous,” said Katherine, barely listening.
“But it’s not one of those Elmira or Heartland stoves. It’s a wood stove.” Marjorie leaned toward Katherine as if sharing a dirty joke. “It’s not electric.”
“No, it’s the real thing,” Katherine said opening the small doors. “Does it work?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask,” said Marjorie recovering herself smoothly.
“It doesn’t matter if it works or not,” said Katherine. “It has to stay. Look. If it’s removed, it’ll leave a hole in the ceiling where the stovepipe is.”
Marjorie looked up dubiously. “Yes, you’re right. Or that hole could be closed. But if you want it, we could write it in the offer.”
Katherine glanced around, wondering where she could put an electric cookstove. She needed that for cooking, even if she kept the woodstove.
The kitchen opened onto a room that had probably been a parlour, and Katherine went to the front window, trying to see the road through the bushes in front. Another window at the side looked through a tangle of green onto the driveway.
Marjorie stood in the doorway, saying “Here just off the front door is the sitting room.” Katherine followed, passing the large wood front door and noticing the worn dark red broadloom. “And through here is a guest room,” Marjorie was saying, disappearing through yet another door.
“So there are four rooms on this floor, all opening onto each other?” Katherine asked.
“That’s right. Of course, you can keep this door locked so your guests can have privacy.”
Or open up some of this space, Katherine was thinking. Dining room? What’s under this terrible broadloom?
“And the bathroom and two bedrooms are upstairs.” Marjorie’s polished leather boots led the way up, and Katherine followed, experimentally knocking the walls on either side. A dark tunnel, she thought. A shaft. At the top of the stairs was a bathroom, but Marjorie headed into a bedroom. “…charming sloping ceilings,” she was saying as Katherine came in. “Here is the closet,” Marjorie said, fumbling with a rustic latch on a door in the tongue and groove wall at one end of the room. A window was in the centre of the side wall, just where the roof came to a point. Katherine tried to visualize her bed fitting in under the sloping ceiling. “And the other rooms?”
“Let’s have a look.” Marjorie moved to the bathroom door. Katherine went in and saw white tiles, punctuated by smaller black tiles, reaching halfway up the wall. Above was wallpaper with a pattern of tiny pink roses on a white background now yellowing with age. No, she thought, that has to go. The fixtures were old and white, with only a little yellowing stain around the drains. The sink hung from the wall, the pipes exposed. The bathtub had a shower head. A central window faced the road. With redecorating, this could work, Katherine thought.
The other room was a mirror image of the first bedroom. Katherine nodded, picturing a couch and armchair under the sloping roof. Bookcases along the tall wall and a desk beneath the window. A den and guest bedroom, she thought.
When she turned to Marjorie and said that regarding the furnace and other technical details, she would need the advice of a friend, thinking of Douglas, they both knew she seriously wanted the house. Seeing the inside had only strengthened the nurturing feeling she had had when she saw it for the second time.
Ch.1, Pt 3: Three months later, she owned the little grey stone house. » »
I’m sorry for not reading part 2 as promised - was down for flu the last couple of days. But I was feeling better, so I came over as promised to continue.
The description of the house at the top didn’t quite flow, though I couldn’t place my thumb on why, exactly. Perhaps because a good part of it was in one paragraph? If I were you I’d break it up, put it back together, play around with it, and have fun until the description clicks.
But that’s just a suggestion, mind. I like the way you’re setting the story up, assuming, of course, that much of Stonyfields will happen in the house. I’ll be reading.
PS: “When she turned to Marjorie and said that regarding the furnace and other technical details, she would need the advice of a friend, thinking of Douglas, they both knew she seriously wanted the house.”
This sentence is a wee bit long. Too many commas. Break it up, perhaps?
Helpful observations, Eli. I wonder what other readers think. They’re welcome to add their views! Thanks for your loyalty, Eli. I hope you’re over the flu.
No prob Gloria. I said I’ll finish the blook, and I will.
Ch. 2 was nice, but again I saw changes neededto make it top drawer. Lucky for you, they are minor things. Here is a sampling:
–my dictionary shows no such word as “storey.”
–watch those words ending in “ly.” Adverbitis is a writing affliction. Most adverbs can (and should be) eliminated.
–(”swift glance” should be simply “glanced,” a glance being a quick eye movement anyhow.
–Why not eliminate the word “only” (or rephrase the sentence) in your “The feeling of excitement only grew during her first viewing”?
–In describing Katherine’s arrival at the house, what do you gain in using the word “slowly,” which you use twice there? Adds nothing but extra words — and the fewer the words, the sharper the focus.
–I can’t picture a floor plan where four rooms “open onto each other.” Claify.
–”with draining boards spreading out like wings on either side” is ungrammatical. Should be “both sides.”
–”Across from the door was a staircase leading up to the second floor.” delete “leading up.”
–Reconsider sentences beginning with the word “there.” They almost always can be re-written as stronger sentences. Example: “There were no cars outside” is better as “No cars were outside.” Better still, “No cars were there.” Even better, “I saw no cars.”
All in all, to me this was a good chapter. But if I were your editor I’d want these weaknesses fixed before I published your novel. (P.S.: Correct me, Gloria, if I am mistaken in thinking that you wanted this kind of critique. I would see no point in my doing it unless you wanted to move your novel from your closet shelf to bookstore shelves.)
Bob, while I find your line edits helpful, and I think you’re right with some of these, I am concerned at the time and effort you’re putting into this, for free! Since it’s probable that IF a publisher picked up this manuscript, they would do their own editing for the market, and your work might be redundant. I am more interested in your responses to the story line and characters, than detailed fixes. I’d rather you read the whole novel, giving me your reactions along the way: you liked this part, didn’t get this part, were bored by this, were embarrassed by the sexy bits, etc. This is a long novel and I fear you’ll burn out if you do a copy edit of the whole thing!
Gloria, writing and editing are what I do, and I’ve found over the years that grammatical errors and structural weaknesses that occur in the first few pages are almost always repeated throughout the story, making a thorough line edit unnecessary beyond a few pages. Uncorrected, they make for a manuscript riddled with mistakes the professional doesn’t make. It’s always advisable to put your best foot forward; the attitude of Oh-let-the-publisher-fix-it will be perceived for what it is: unprofessional.
I also think you would agree on reflection that strong writing and strong story-telling go hand-in-glove. I tell my students to “write not only to be understood, but so that you can’t be misunderstood.” It’s a higher bar, and one worth aiming at. Believe me, characters and story-line are aided enormnously by the strongest writing one can muster. But I’ll take you at your word. No more editing. Good luck with your work.
Bob, I didn’t mean to be dismissive about your editing, I’m truly concerned at the time it must take you to do this. I hope your “good luck” isn’t goodbye! I hope you keep reading the novel and leaving some comments.