Alphaboy (first draft, work-in-progress) -

[Connor Bible]

CHAPTER ONE


On the morning of his first day of high school, Sean Gillespie awoke in his bedroom to find himself levitating. His face was mere inches away from the blades of the ceiling fan. He sighed, but he was confident that, in time, he could master this ability, just as he did the others over the years.

Lowering himself back onto the mattress was going to require some mental effort on his part. He thought about coming down, and he could feel his body slowly descending. Midway, he lost control of his speed and collapsed into the mattress, leaving a boy-sized impression in it.

Fortunately, he did not go down deep enough to break the support boards. That would have been disastrous. The last time this happened, the boards were split in half, and his father had to install a new ceiling fan.

The impression quickly leveled itself out. For a few moments, Sean stared at the window. The blinds were down, but Sean’s vision was able to peer through many things, even human flesh.

The sun was rising over the Janus City suburb that he and his parents resided in. With his peculiar hearing, he could pick up on the birdsong that filled the outside air. He could even listen in on radio frequencies, which sometimes came in handy.

The quirks, as he called him, were not bothering Sean Gillespie this morning. It was the fact that he would again be in the presence of other kids that instilled some dread and doubt in him. Nevertheless, he looked forward to this day, and suppressed his apprehension. His mother, always the fervent cheerleader, was surely ecstatic.

His backpack had already contained the necessary textbooks and materials. All he needed to do this morning was get dressed and have a quick breakfast. He rose from his bed, stood up in his t-shirt and sweatpants, and stretched. Walking over to the mirrored closet, he picked out a white shirt and black pants. He didn’t want to dress in such a way as to draw unneeded attention. Something simple would suffice.

With his school clothes on, Sean closed the doors of the closet, and saw his reflection. He stood at about 5’7, and while slender, he was well-built and athletic. His hair was short and dark. Most people who had met him say that he looked like a much younger Bruce Lee. The most distinguishing feature of Sean was his piercing blue eyes. Under certain lighting, they had kind of a shine effect.

This was all merely physical. Sean did not fully understand many things about himself, even though many described him as being wise beyond his years. He didn’t understand, really, who he truly was, his place in the grand scheme of things a total mystery. At fourteen, he had left childhood behind and was embarking on an awkward path in his development as an individual. He kept his chin up, but there was always doubt, a sort of wondering.

“This is the first day of the rest of your life,” he said to his reflection. “Let’s make it a good one, shall we?” Sean smirked as he turned around and walked out of his room. At sundown on Saturday, the Janus City Challengers were going to face the Chicago Cubs at Kirby Stadium. He looked forward to it.

###

Having already dressed for the job and with his forty-fives holstered, Detective Joe Gillespie was stuffing his pack of Marlboros in the pocket of his coat when he noticed that more gray hairs were popping up on his fifty-five year old head. His face was bony, and had two scars, a vertical one on his left eyebrow and horizontal one on the cheek below. He adjusted the wedding ring on his finger, the last section of it having been blown off a long time ago. Joe shook his head to escape the trigger, and it was successful.

He looked again at his hair. “I’m too old for this shit,” his said under his breath.

Suddenly, he heard his wife Mary, nee Tsubaraya, sniffling. He turned from where he stood in the bathroom, and slowly walked into the connected bedroom. She, too, was dressed; she had the day shift at Janus City Central as an emergency room nurse.

Joe noticed that she was going through the family photo album, and sat down beside her. Mary wiped a tear from the top of her mouth, rubbing it away from the lightning bolt-shaped scar left from childhood surgery to repair her harelip. Her misty eyes were focused solely on the photos preserved in plastic.

Fourteen years ago, she was holding Sean, just a few months old. His eyes were closed, and unlike most babies, he was unusually silent.

At the age of four, Sean was sitting on top of his father’s shoulders, his little hands resting on his hair, which had more color than it usually did nowadays.

At age ten, Sean was in full Little League gear, mitt and ball in his hands.

“We’ve done a good job, haven’t we?” Mary asked. “With him?”

“I think we’ve done more than great,” Joe answered, smiling with closed lips.

Mary looked at him. “There’s this fear that I have. I’m afraid that because of what he’s capable of…”

“That the kids wouldn’t cotton to him,” Joe finished. “I’d tell them to go screw themselves.”

Mary chuckled, her voice regaining strength. “That’s a lovely way of putting it.”

“I never was the kind of guy that sugarcoats things, Mare.”

“We’ve done so much for Sean. The years have gone by so fast.”

“He’s not a little kid anymore.”

“Yeah, I know that. It just hurts, you know, letting him go his own way.”

“If it was painless, it wouldn’t really be called growing up.”

“I guess you’re right, Joe.” There was an uncomfortable silence as Mary struggled to find the right words to say. She was hesitant, but decided to let it loose from her lips. “Should we tell him? After all this time, should we tell him?”

“Tell me what?” a voice near and dear to them inquired.

Sean was standing in the doorway, dressed for success on his first day of high school, his backpack slung over one shoulder. A look of youthful curiosity filled his face.

“Heya, slugger,” Joe said.

“Good morning, Mom, Dad,” Sean replied. “You’ve… got that look in your eyes. Anything you wanted to tell me?”

Joe and Mary noted that Sean, ever since he was little, had the ability to read facial expressions and physical gestures, picking up on some that most other children did not. “Uh,” Mary said, “Your father and I just wanted to say that--” She choked a bit. “We wanted to say that we’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

“I know the feeling,” Sean said empathically. “I’m headed downstairs for breakfast. You want something?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Joe answered while briefly shaking his head. “I got a surprise for you, slugger…”

“Some tickets to the game on Saturday?” Sean suddenly became more animated.

“How’d you know?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Dad,” Sean said, pointing to his face.

Mary suddenly stood up. “Speaking of your looks…”

“Mom…”

“Come on, Seany! You know I have to take a picture for the album.”

“If you insist…”

“What’s the problem with that?” Joe asked.

“Nothing at all. I just don’t think I’m… photogenic, today,” Sean said.

“What do you mean, ‘photogenic’?” Mary said as she dug through the closet in search of the camera.

“Can’t I just let this be an ordinary day?”

“It’s your first day of high school!” Mary said.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Joe followed up. “Mother knows best.”

“You’re still smoking, Dad?” Sean walked towards his father and grabbed the Marlboro box inside of his coat.

“Hey-hey-hey-hey!” Joe exclaimed, gently brushing Sean’s arm away. “Get your hands off! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of taking up my habit!”

“No thanks. Blow Pops are my only vice. I don’t need another.”

“Don’t we all have vices?” Joe said.

“This vice can kill you. It even says so on the box.”

“Well, it’s going to take time to kick it, slugger.”

“Patience is my middle name. That and Percy. Are you driving me to school?”

“Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I? If you’re thinking about flying…”

“Which I was,” Sean finished.

“It’s not a good idea. The kids would flip out.”

“Well, you have a point. That and I haven’t gotten used to it yet. Takes time, like you said.”

“Found it,” Mary said, pulling out the camera. “Let’s head on outside! I want to snap one of you two before you go!”

“Wait, I’m in this too? I’m like Sean, now, I’m not exactly ‘photogenic’ this morning!”

Mary let out a hmmph.

###

After Sean grabbed himself a quick breakfast, the three Gillespies went downstairs and outside into the garage. It was spacious enough to hold Mary’s Toyota and Joe’s unmarked Charger, as well as a large, unseen vehicle that Joe kept covered under tarps.

“Are you still working on the Beast?” Mary asked. “When are you ever going to finish it?”

“Most pet projects do, Mare,” Joe said.

Sean was tempted to peer through the tarps with his special vision, but respected his father’s privacy enough to let it slide.

“You’re fifty-five years old, Joe. Aren’t you a little old to be making man-mobiles?”

“What do you mean, ‘man-mobiles’?”

“Hot rods, pimped out rides, meat machines. Their extensions of your… of your…”

“A little thing that guys have but women lack,” Sean finished for his mother, opening the passenger’s door of the Charger.

“Cut it out, slugger,” Joe chuckled while opening his door and getting in his seat.

“Wait a minute!” Mary exclaimed.

“Oh boy,” Sean said to himself, buckling himself in.

“Just one, before you head off?” Mary was practically begging.

“Alrighty then,” Sean uttered with a sigh. He forced a smile at his mother, and the flash went off. It was done. He looked over and saw that his father was smiling, but with closed lips. Sometimes, he felt his father was kind of a downer.

“Now, did that hurt you?” Mary asked.

“No, not in the slightest. Dad’s probably a little camera shy…”

“Knock it off,” Joe laughed.

All of a sudden, Mary took hold of Sean’s hand, which was hanging out of the passenger’s side window.

“Sean, I’m so proud of you.” She was rubbing his hand. “You know how much we’ve been looking forward to today.”

“I sure do, Mom.”

“Ready to kick some ass, slugger?” Joe asked in an unusually upbeat tone.

“You bet, Dad.”

With that, Joe turned the key, and off the father and son went, waving goodbye as they turned out of the driveway of the Gillespie household and disappeared into cityscape.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

 

[DNJACK]

Mind if I repost this as my own?

 

[Connor Bible]

CHAPTER TWO


In a separate Charger on its own path to Janus Central High, Detective Ben Phillips tried to keep his eyes on the road. At the same time, his daughter Lisa kept drawing them as she sat in the passenger’s seat. She was looking out the rolled-up window, away from him. While he was in his usual suit and tie, his daughter had other ideas for appearance and attire on her first day of high school. Her hair, strawberry-blonde like her mother’s, used to fall down to her shoulders, but she insisted on a haircut. She had diamond-stud earrings. She had on tennis shoes without socks, jean shorts and vest, and a shirt that covered her navel just enough to avoid making a scene. Ben doubted she even had a bra on.

Nonetheless, the sun rose and set with her. When his wife died when she was six, he increased the output of his paternal energy tenfold, making sure she would be happy, even when he wasn’t there. Nowadays, she was eager to break away. It came with growth.

“I’m just fine, if you’re wondering, Dad.” Lisa’s tone of voice had a down in the dumps quality to it.

“You certainly don’t sound like it. This is your first day of high school. Weren’t you supposed to be looking forward to this?”

“Maybe I was.”

“You know, you could’ve put less revealing clothes on.”

“Admit it, I look like a streetwalker.”

“You really have a sunny attitude today.” He made no attempt to hide his sarcasm, but he knew he had a point.

“I said I’m fine.”

If you say so, Ben thought. There was no point in starting an argument with her. She got her temperament from her mother, as well as her beauty.

He was afraid that because of that, the boys would see opportunity. That angered him. He had a double-barreled sawn-off to remedy their lust.

After dropping her off, he’d follow Joe to headquarters, and from there, their day would begin. He was hesitant about having his daughter attend school with Sean. Joe had told him what he was capable of. The boy’s coming of age did not help matters.

###

As they approached the school, Joe and Ben saw each other in their respective Chargers and waved, with the former staying behind the latter as it pulled into the parking lot.

Sean could see the students flocking into the building through the windshield. The windows were up, but with his hearing, the chatter and the shouting were audible.

To his right, he could see the Phillips Charger in the next parking space. Ben, mustachioed, frowning and scruffy like a stereotypical cowboy, glared at him, a clenched fist dangling down the driver’s door.

Sean had known of Mr. Phillips’s existence, but never got the chance to actually see him in the fourteen years he had been a cop’s son. He was expecting a man dressed and cleaned-up like his father, but not a plaid jacket and a hairdo that looked like the business end of a mop.

“Ready, son?” Joe asked.

“Sure I am, Dad,” Sean answered.

Sean got out of the car, and so did Joe, who walked to the other side.

“You must be Ben Phillips,” Sean said as he extended his right hand. “Sean Gillespie, the infamous.”

Sean noticed Ben’s face still possessed a scowl. Evidently, the reception to his kindness was lukewarm.

The passenger’s side door of Ben’s car opened. Out stepped a girl, most likely another freshman. She dressed rather provocatively, as he observed as she walked around the car towards him.

Suddenly, she was staring at him. His right hand was still out.

“Happy to meet you,” Ben said. “Sean, this is Lisa. Try anything funny and you will get a double-barrel castration. Got it?”

Sean gulped.

“Hell of a way to introduce yourself,” Joe said.

“Dad, you can cut the machismo, okay? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy that thinks with his dick,” Lisa said.

“Hey! Watch your mouth!” Ben reprimanded.

“She’s right, Mr. Phillips. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You sure?” Ben asked.

“Absolutely, positively sure,” Sean answered.

“Good,” Ben said. “Otherwise, you’re in a world of pain.”

“Can it, Ben,” Joe said. Sean could already pick up that his father and Ben had an unusual friendship.

“Slick, I’ve got my reasons,” Ben’s glare moved to Joe.

“And I’ve got a problem with your attitude,” Joe said.

“I can’t stand this testosterone fest,” Lisa sighed. “I’m going in. Later, Dad.”

“Later, sweetie,” Ben replied.

For a moment, Sean simply stood as he watched Lisa walk away. There was an “ahem” sound from Joe. He was gesturing with an open hand towards the schoolhouse, smirking.

“See you this, afternoon, and nice meeting you, Mr. Phillips.” Sean quickly walked away.

“Kids these days,” he heard his father say.

###

Sean caught up with Lisa at the front entrance of the school. “You seem to be in a hurry,” he said.

“So do you,” she said.

“Well, of course! First period could start any minute,” Sean said.

“No shit.” Her eyes were away from Sean, focused forward. They both kept walking.

“Wow. You seem happy,” Sean said sardonically. “I thought the first day of high school was supposed to be a positive experience.”

“It is, but my dad’s moaning and groaning about the way I’m dressed. Aren’t I supposed to be myself?”

“Are you?” Sean asked.

“What are you talking about? This is today’s style! You and your old man kind of look like you stepped out of Leave it to Beaver.”

“I actually like that show,” Sean said.

“What other shows are you into?”

“Father Knows Best. Andy Griffith.”

“Aw, yuck,” Lisa responded. She made mock retching noises.

The two stopped at the front entrance. Sean reached for the door handle. “May I do the honors? Ladies first,” he said.

Lisa grabbed Sean’s hand. “No thanks,” she said as she tried to move it away. It remained perfectly still, not budging an inch.

“Your hand… it’s as heavy as an anvil!” She yanked hers away, and began comforting it.

“My bad, Lisa,” Sean said. He opened the door, and much to Lisa’s amazement, it didn’t fall off of its hinges. “Allow me!”

Lisa walked right on in, and Sean followed suit.

What they saw inside left something to be desired. Students were scurrying about the main hall. Against one wall, a couple of student resource officers frisked a few older students; Sean could see one of the SROs taking out and opening a box of Altoids that contained vials of the designer drug Z.

Sean had heard about this from his father. The epidemic of Z addiction throughout Janus City, and indeed, throughout the entire state of Illinois, was making headlines and the covers of magazines. His father refused to discuss, like some other things, the Z-related homicides he investigated on an almost daily basis.

Nearby, a group of younger kids engaged in a game of craps. A girl, dressed even more provocatively than Lisa, handed a small wad of cash to a tall young man dressed in a leather jacket and jeans, with greasy hair down to just below his earlobes. Evidently, by his rough looks, he failed a few times in school.

“Go on, move your ass,” Sean could hear the guy say to the girl.

“We’re in Hell,” Lisa said to Sean.

“I think it’d be a good idea if I helped you to class,” Sean suggested.

“Gee, you think?”

“What’s your first period?” Sean asked.

“Langley,” she replied.

“Hey, that’s my first period, too,” Sean said.

“Yay,” Lisa groaned.

Lisa stepped forward, with Sean staying close behind her. Already, he could notice that the creep in leather was eyeing her. The tall fellow whistled.

“Hey, miss. What’s a nice girl like you walking to class with a faggot like this?”

“I’ve had enough macho bullshit for one day,” Lisa said. “I don’t need any from guys like you.”

“Lisa...” Sean started.

“That includes you, Mr. Cleaver,” Lisa said.

“You know, I can show you around this place, every nook and cranny of it.” The young man’s voice practically oozed with slime.

“Garrett Cygar, that won’t be necessary,” a much older female voice said. All three turned.

She was a middle-aged woman, ebony and somewhat gone to fat, dressed very professionally. A laminated ID card that hung from her neck identified her as TONYA BURNETT, PRINCIPAL.

“Oh, Principal Burnett!” Sean extended his right hand. “Sean Gillespie, nice to meet you. This is Lisa Phillips.”

Garrett, Lisa, and Burnett were silent. Sean promptly put his right hand back down.

“There are three things wrong with this picture,” Burnett said. “Number one, Cygar, I have you attempting to charm Phillips here. Number two, Phillips, you’re setting a bad precedent by dressing like that on your first day of school, not to mention causing trouble. Number three, Gillespie, you’re playing hero again.”

“Again?” Sean asked. Lisa and Garrett both gave him inquisitive looks.

“Did you really think that I would just let you walk in here without your father calling me beforehand? Besides, I’ve heard of your reputation. Hurry on to class, Phillips. And Cygar, my office, half an hour.”

“If you insist, bitch,” Garrett snarled under his breath as he walked away.

Lisa began to leave as well. “Later, Mr. Gillespie.”

“Uh, it’s okay if you call me Sean.”

“Gillespie… my office. Now.”

###

The office of Tonya Burnett was quite tidy. There were no papers scattered about the desk, and its top was well polished. Sean sat in a chair opposite the desk, facing Burnett, who was thumbing through student records.

“For the most part, Gillespie, you appear to be an exemplary student.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of praise in the past, correct,” Sean said.

“It says here that you played Little League before middle school.”

Sean hesitated. “Yes, ma’am. That I did.”

“They called you the Boy with the the Golden Swing. More home runs than any child in the game.”

“I was a real boy scout. I think I still am.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Mr. Gillespie. Your father let me in on your… quirks. Levitation, acute senses… It says here that in seventh grade, you were in an altercation in the boy’s bathroom. Three of them were put in the hospital.”

“Two of them were actually injured. One of them went in for shock.”

“You seem short about it. Let me let you in on something, Mr. Gillespie. If you keep on being short with me, you can think about transferring to another school. Now, why exactly did this incident occur?”

“Well,” Sean said, “When three boys have beaten a sixth grader to a pulp and are holding his head in a toilet one of them has urinated in, you’d probably step in.”

“That I would, but I wouldn’t break bones, give them a speech impediment, or hell, destroy the entire bathroom.”

“I guess I don’t know my own strength.”

“I guess you don’t, Mr. Gillespie. Look, you seem to be a nice kid, I’ll give you that. But if you want to play Clint Eastwood or Charles Bronson, you’ve got another thing coming. Because of what you’re capable of, you ought to be registered as a lethal weapon. The faculty and I want to make this a respectable educational establishment. Unfortunately, with the amount of scumbags in this city, that’s easier said than done. Promise me this, Gillespie… promise me that you won’t see me very often.”

“I give you my word, Mrs. Burnett.”

“You sure as hell better, boy. Go on, to class.”

Without a word, Sean got out of the chair and walked towards the door.

“One last thing, Mr. Gillespie… Don’t break anything.”

Sean smiled. “Gotcha.”

Closing the door behind him, Sean’s smile dissipated. He pulled a cherry lollipop out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth, putting the wadded up paper in the nearby trashcan. He made his way to class, keeping his chin up.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

 

[Null]

Is your entire book going to be 3 page chapters consisting almost entirely of dialog?

GJ posting something though it only took a year.

 

[bearycool]

"Sean’s smile dissipated. He pulled a cherry lollipop out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuck it in his mouth, putting the wadded up paper in the nearby trashcan. He made his way to class, keeping his chin up."

Oh my Sean, you sure like it hot, gay, and sexy don't you, you little fruitcake.

 

[Megapiss]

Joe and Mary noted that Sean, ever since he was little, had the ability to read facial expressions and physical gestures, picking up on some that most other children did not.

I can see why you'd think that's an unusual ability.

 

[MrTroll]

I like the idea of a defunct film distributor from the 90's (responsible for some real classics like The Last Boy Scout and Beavis and Butthead Do America) publishing your novel, very avant garde.

 

[Connor Bible]

I like the idea of a defunct film distributor from the 90's (responsible for some real classics like The Last Boy Scout and Beavis and Butthead Do America) publishing your novel, very avant garde.

Actually, The Last Boy Scout was a big influence on Alphaboy. That, and I wanted to start the thread as though it were a film.

 

[Emiya Kiwitsugu]

Paging @Mauvwomyn Shuffleboard, you have some work to do.

 

[Sanae Kochiya]

Hm, well... yes, that definitely was a thing.

I don't know how to describe it, but the story feels a bit... emotionless. Like, the imagery isn't very vivid or descriptive at all, and the dialogue feels a bit awkward. I'll probably go back and do a more thorough breakdown of it but overall it feels sorta lifeless and that's kinda what brings it down for me.

 

[Pikonic]

Ok real talk,
First sentence and already we know he has superpowers and the ability to levitate. The pacing on this is way too fast.
Why don't you spend at least a chapter making this character relatable. Is he nervous about starting high school? How was middle school? What is his home life like? Make your protagonist relatable to the reader. It makes the reader care more about the character, and thus the plot.
Harry Potter started off a a miserable kid with his shitty relatives. Bran Stark was just a kid who didn't know shit. Katniss was just some bitch trying to get by. Robert Langdon is a professor. None of these books start off with action. Harry Potter doesn't even go to Hogwarts for the first third of the first book. Don't be afraid to take your time.

 

[Eponine]

@Connor Bible, your character writing skills needs work. Most of the dialogue here rings hollow, like your characters are a patchwork of different traits drawn from books and television that don't quite form a coherent whole and most importantly don't feel natural.

Another way to put this: the way you write dialogue betrays your lack of social experience. Your vocabulary and grammar are there, but everything is canned. The way Ben says 'slick', Lisa's “Admit it, I look like a streetwalker.” (really? Actually let's just not with Lisa in general) Joe throwing around 'slugger'...canned.

The good news is, you are fairly good at setting the scene/writing outside of dialogue. The bad news is, I have no idea what advice to give to help you write natural characters. Who knows? Maybe I just smell that you're nervous, or you're simply not inspired. Either way, there is lots of room for improvement.

PS: it's good to see you're actually writing!

 

[Firesharpie]

>fourteen
>"wise beyond his years"

ahaha yeah okay. Whenever a fourteen year old is "wise beyond their years", they're just a pretentious asshole.

good to see you writing though, buddy

 

[Sanae Kochiya]

Sanae Kochiya's thorough breakdown of the first chapter of some random thing
Because I evidently have nothing better to do with my time

On the morning of his first day of high school, Sean Gillespie awoke in his bedroom to find himself levitating. His face was mere inches away from the blades of the ceiling fan. He sighed, but he was confident that, in time, he could master this ability, just as he did the others over the years.

See, there's a really popular phrase among most authors and it's basically the staple for most literature. Show, don't tell. Yes, it's obviously impossible to do this to the absolute most literal degree with text, as I can't show you, for instance, what this girl really is feeling, or what the stars really do look like over Japan or some crap like that, but what it's supposed to mean is that, when possible, you should try to use vivid imagery, descriptors, and just in general really good wordplay to describe a scene, because describing it "as is" just comes off as rather boring. And, if this is what you're aiming for... then good job, you succeeded, but it's a very, very good way to turn someone off from reading your shit if it doesn't come off as good or not. Like, for instance, imagine if you were trying to describe a character walking into a room and you wanted to make it sound important or at least, eye-catching. Would you say something like, I dunno..

"Alice walked into the room."

or

"Upon entering the room, Alice's eyes were immediately seized by the prominent purple dildo hanging from the wall opposite of her."

I know that sometimes it's best to be curt and to the point instead of obsessively sprinkling the entire dialogue with words upon words. The latter is purple prose and is even more fatiguing to readers than just having something with no descriptors, but you gotta have some sorta hook. Sentences shouldn't be in a story just to link a scene to another. Try to make everything you write serve some unique purpose, because if you think it's filler or that it's dull or not very eyecatching, then someone else probably thinks the same way.

But getting back to what I'm trying to say, this sentence is... bland. Like, it doesn't hook anyone at all besides the "oooh supernatural weird shit" going on, and it's not even some kind of absurdly different supernatural weird shit like, say, a green-haired loli surrounded by flesh tentacles or some shit. It's just like "Oh this character is probably the protagonist guys oh and he has superpowers but can't really control them." And... what? Is that what we're using as our hook? Normal guy with some ability to levitate that can't control his stuff? It's not really compelling, if you get what I mean.

Like, sorry, and I mean to this to anyone who's autistic enough to read my ramblings here, but generally if you're starting your story out you want some sort of hook, some sort of vivid paragraph or striking message that immediately catches the reader's eye and, well, gives them a goddamn reason to keep reading to see what's going on. Alphaboy might be some sort of deep, interesting hero plagued by the absurdities of his powers measured against the weight of his own humanity and the people around him, but it sure as hell doesn't come off like that from what I first gleaned. I apologize because this is going into self-promotion territory here, but I'm actually writing a small fic myself and this is what I tried to use as an introduction. I'm not the greatest writer ever but I feel like this serves as a good enough example for what I'm autistically trying to say.

Normally this would have been any other dull night. She'd kick back in her bed, a dusty tome cracked open beside her pillow, and stare out her window into the stars, her golden eyes hovering over each and every individual light in the sky. She'd seen some great magic in her life, created some damn fine magic herself, but nothing compared to the sheer power and scale of a star. Perpetual furnaces, they were overflowing wells of energy whose radiance was so immense that it left its scar in the velvet curtain of the sky long after they burned out. There were Youkai in Gensokyo that could only dream of harnessing the type of power that a star casually wielded. She was envious, of course who wouldn't be? Why was she, a mere human, cursed with the jeering gaze of the stars above, when she could barely manage a fraction of its strength?

So what do we get? We got the impression that this is a mage, an impressionable one studying magic and performing some herself, who was envious of and dreams of using powers comparable to the strength of a fucking star. OK, yeah, it's fairly generic in itself and it's animu as fuck, I know, but the point is that we get more an idea of this character than we do of Sean. From what we get from the start, Sean is just a guy who can float and is mildly annoyed by it. And? Well, where do we go from here? There's nothing that tells us anything about his personality, nothing that makes us invested in the character. Much like films or TV shows or frankly any other kind of media, it lives and dies by its first impression, because if people get bored in the first minute, they ain't sticking around to see if it gets better.

The impression quickly leveled itself out. For a few moments, Sean stared at the window. The blinds were down, but Sean’s vision was able to peer through many things, even human flesh.

I'm gonna sound like a motherfucking broken record here, but show, don't tell. Tell us what this guy can see. Does he see people sleeping soundly in their beds? Rats scurrying in the sewers? A magical girl insane with grief rewriting reality to forever be with the girl she desperately wants to protect and be with for eternity? A discarded rice ball? What? We're told what the power is, but we're not shown as to its capabilities and thus it just kinda comes off as pretty fucking boring. You're writing a story and not a plot synopsis. Being brief in the latter is expected but doing it in the former is just a good way for people to not have any investment in it.

This was all merely physical. Sean did not fully understand many things about himself, even though many described him as being wise beyond his years. He didn’t understand, really, who he truly was, his place in the grand scheme of things a total mystery. At fourteen, he had left childhood behind and was embarking on an awkward path in his development as an individual. He kept his chin up, but there was always doubt, a sort of wondering.

This really kills me because you could have gone somewhere with this. Is he emotionally traumatized by some event in his past? Are there certain things that bother or discomfort him to this day? What mixture of feelings does he have to this particular day and does it show by any kind of quirk or oddity in his appearance or expression? I mean, dude, you don't have to monologue or describe what each neuron is firing in the guy's body, but give us something.

He adjusted the wedding ring on his finger, the last section of it having been blown off a long time ago. Joe shook his head to escape the trigger, and it was successful.

You already know what I'm fucking gonna say about this and I don't want to come off as more autistic than Chris in repeating myself. Next.

At the age of four, Sean was sitting on top of his father’s shoulders, his little hands resting on his hair, which had more color than it usually did nowadays.

At age ten, Sean was in full Little League gear, mitt and ball in his hands.

“We’ve done a good job, haven’t we?” Mary asked. “With him?”

“I think we’ve done more than great,” Joe answered, smiling with closed lips.

Mary looked at him. “There’s this fear that I have. I’m afraid that because of what he’s capable of…”

“That the kids wouldn’t cotton to him,” Joe finished. “I’d tell them to go screw themselves.”

Mary chuckled, her voice regaining strength. “That’s a lovely way of putting it.”

“I never was the kind of guy that sugarcoats things, Mare.”

“We’ve done so much for Sean. The years have gone by so fast.”

“He’s not a little kid anymore.”

“Yeah, I know that. It just hurts, you know, letting him go his own way.”

“If it was painless, it wouldn’t really be called growing up.”

“I guess you’re right, Joe.” There was an uncomfortable silence as Mary struggled to find the right words to say. She was hesitant, but decided to let it loose from her lips. “Should we tell him? After all this time, should we tell him?”

“Tell me what?” a voice near and dear to them inquired.

Sean was standing in the doorway, dressed for success on his first day of high school, his backpack slung over one shoulder. A look of youthful curiosity filled his face.

“Heya, slugger,” Joe said.

“Good morning, Mom, Dad,” Sean replied. “You’ve… got that look in your eyes. Anything you wanted to tell me?”

Joe and Mary noted that Sean, ever since he was little, had the ability to read facial expressions and physical gestures, picking up on some that most other children did not. “Uh,” Mary said, “Your father and I just wanted to say that--” She choked a bit. “We wanted to say that we’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”

“I know the feeling,” Sean said empathically. “I’m headed downstairs for breakfast. You want something?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Joe answered while briefly shaking his head. “I got a surprise for you, slugger…”

“Some tickets to the game on Saturday?” Sean suddenly became more animated.

“How’d you know?”

“It’s all in the eyes, Dad,” Sean said, pointing to his face.

Mary suddenly stood up. “Speaking of your looks…”

“Mom…”

“Come on, Seany! You know I have to take a picture for the album.”

“If you insist…”

“What’s the problem with that?” Joe asked.

“Nothing at all. I just don’t think I’m… photogenic, today,” Sean said.

“What do you mean, ‘photogenic’?” Mary said as she dug through the closet in search of the camera.

“Can’t I just let this be an ordinary day?”

“It’s your first day of high school!” Mary said.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Joe followed up. “Mother knows best.”

“You’re still smoking, Dad?” Sean walked towards his father and grabbed the Marlboro box inside of his coat.

“Hey-hey-hey-hey!” Joe exclaimed, gently brushing Sean’s arm away. “Get your hands off! Don’t tell me you’re thinking of taking up my habit!”

“No thanks. Blow Pops are my only vice. I don’t need another.”

“Don’t we all have vices?” Joe said.

“This vice can kill you. It even says so on the box.”

“Well, it’s going to take time to kick it, slugger.”

“Patience is my middle name. That and Percy. Are you driving me to school?”

“Of course I am. Why shouldn’t I? If you’re thinking about flying…”

“Which I was,” Sean finished.

“It’s not a good idea. The kids would flip out.”

“Well, you have a point. That and I haven’t gotten used to it yet. Takes time, like you said.”

“Found it,” Mary said, pulling out the camera. “Let’s head on outside! I want to snap one of you two before you go!”

“Wait, I’m in this too? I’m like Sean, now, I’m not exactly ‘photogenic’ this morning!”

Mary let out a hmmph.

Alright, there was something about this story that was just bugging me and only going through it again did I figure out what that thing was. Connor, you have to realize that novels are not plays or movies or TV shows or any of that shit, and throwing a fuckton of dialogue gets old fast. Dialogue requires intermissions, maybe reaction pieces that show how people are responding to certain pieces of information conveyed, or change of scenery to different rooms, or maybe characters interspersing the dialogue with some kind of random thing like eating breakfast or slaying a demon or some shit like that, but if it's just nothing but dialogue, it makes the world feel small and it makes the characters seem like they're just all standing in one place all staring at each other and saying stuff. Yes, dialogue is a good way to convey emotion and exposition, but if you overdo it then, well, see that comment on blandness.

Surprisingly, this is really all I have to say, as the story is basically plagued with the same problem. Too much dialogue, not enough descriptive imagery to describe the world at large, let alone allow the reader to immerse himself in it or even care, and a shit ton of things that are not explained.

 

[VLAD]

What I like about this is that I can just pick a sentence at random, and there'll be something with it that needs fixing.

Like here.

Sean had heard about this from his father. The epidemic of Z addiction throughout Janus City, and indeed, throughout the entire state of Illinois, was making headlines and the covers of magazines. His father refused to discuss, like some other things, the Z-related homicides he investigated on an almost daily basis.

So it's a highly addictive designer drug that drives people to kill and probably has some wicked side effects. But we don't know shit about it. This is the only information we get, when we should be afraid of what this drug represents and what it's doing to the community at large. Does our hero know someone who OD'd on it? Has he seen the effects firsthand? Every description sounds clinical, every line of dialog sounds unnatural, and there's very little here to hook the reader and keep them along for the ride.

You need to remember that as a writer, you're in competition with literally every other form of entertainment on the face of the earth. Your reader could stop reading and do something else at any time. Your job is to prevent them from doing so. And with me, you have failed.

 

[Smutley]

BTW, Alphaboy will include a character named Dr. Felicia Frankenheimer as one of the villains. Believe it or not, she's a take that to none other than Molly Ringwald. That's payback for infecting my brain, woman!

This is a cross-post from your main thread, but I had a question about this.

In your original draft, Dr. Frankenheimer was based off of Billy Drago, and Molly was Sean's mom. This is the first time's you've written her as a straight up bad guy - are you growing that tired of her? Or did you want to get Sean back to the Japanese roots of your original concept?

 

[Surtur]

Connor, look up the Right of First Publication and why you are doing it wrong.

 

[caffeinated_wench]

On the morning of his first day of high school, Sean Gillespie awoke in his bedroom to find himself levitating. His face was mere inches away from the blades of the ceiling fan. He sighed, but he was confident that, in time, he could master this ability, just as he did the others over the years.

Lowering himself back onto the mattress was going to require some mental effort on his part. He thought about coming down, and he could feel his body slowly descending. Midway, he lost control of his speed and collapsed into the mattress, leaving a boy-sized impression in it.

Fortunately, he did not go down deep enough to break the support boards. That would have been disastrous. The last time this happened, the boards were split in half, and his father had to install a new ceiling fan.

First of all, your pacing -- as @Pikonic pointed out -- is a tad too fast. You need to slow it down, rein it back in a bit. Who is Sean Gillespie? Why should we care about him? How does having super powers affect his life? Remember, our first glimpse of the character determines much of our reactions towards him. He MUST be likable or at least relatable. What I got from this and the sentence that followed was that his powers are the main focus, but I don't know much about Sean himself save for him seeming frustrated. If you were to take away the powers, what would we be left with?

I'll also agree that this makes it a little more difficult to relate to him as a person. I'm not saying take away his powers, but I WOULD say to write about them in a way that makes them relatable. Do they make it hard for him to join clubs at school? Make him more socially awkward?

The impression quickly leveled itself out. For a few moments, Sean stared at the window. The blinds were down, but Sean’s vision was able to peer through many things, even human flesh.

Show, don't tell. Of course, why are you even telling us this? We can find out on our own later.

The sun was rising over the Janus City suburb that he and his parents resided in. With his peculiar hearing, he could pick up on the birdsong that filled the outside air. He could even listen in on radio frequencies, which sometimes came in handy.

Don't tell us all of this out of the gate. Leave a little mystery to Sean's powers. (And, y'know, stop telling us everything anyway.)

The quirks, as he called him, were not bothering Sean Gillespie this morning.

Didn't they bother him earlier? Why does he call them "the quirks"?

It was the fact that he would again be in the presence of other kids that instilled some dread and doubt in him. Nevertheless, he looked forward to this day, and suppressed his apprehension. His mother, always the fervent cheerleader, was surely ecstatic.

He gives the impression that he doesn't want to go to school, except he does?

His backpack had already contained the necessary textbooks and materials. All he needed to do this morning was get dressed and have a quick breakfast. He rose from his bed, stood up in his t-shirt and sweatpants, and stretched. Walking over to the mirrored closet, he picked out a white shirt and black pants. He didn’t want to dress in such a way as to draw unneeded attention. Something simple would suffice.

With his school clothes on, Sean closed the doors of the closet, and saw his reflection. He stood at about 5’7, and while slender, he was well-built and athletic. His hair was short and dark. Most people who had met him say that he looked like a much younger Bruce Lee. The most distinguishing feature of Sean was his piercing blue eyes. Under certain lighting, they had kind of a shine effect.

I would very much avoid the celebrity resemblance, as well as making his eyes special.

The celebrity resemblance already renders his trying to fit in as pointless, and to me it comes off as a lack of confidence in your own ability to create your character's appearance. I've seen you do this a lot, and I have to say: have faith in your ability to describe your character! You won't get better at it if you rely on celebrity references for people to know what your character looks like.

As for his eyes, I don't know if that's necessarily special anyway. Lighting does different things to your eyes. Definitely take it out though. I'm not very sure about his "piercing" blue eyes, but a little more description wouldn't hurt. Since you frequent TVTropes, surely you've also looked up what eye colors are typically associated with? Sometimes, an eye color/hair color is chosen because of how it looks as a design, but you can also use color associations to give us a sort of visual shorthand.

I went off on a tangent, but basically you seem to be implying that there's some sort of bizarre quality about those eyes and trying to make some sort of statement with them. Why not get a little descriptive with them if they're his most distinguishing feature? (Even though they're probably not since everyone he knows comments on how he looks like Bruce Lee.)

This was all merely physical. Sean did not fully understand many things about himself, even though many described him as being wise beyond his years. He didn’t understand, really, who he truly was, his place in the grand scheme of things a total mystery. At fourteen, he had left childhood behind and was embarking on an awkward path in his development as an individual. He kept his chin up, but there was always doubt, a sort of wondering.

Anyone who describes themselves as being "wise beyond their years" probably isn't. If he was so wise, then how does he not understand anything, unless you're trying to make some sort of joke about him being a teenager? This paragraph gives me mixed signals about Sean. He can't be everything at once, Connor. He's either awkward and uncertain, or confident and looking to seize the day.

I'm going through the next part with his parents, and honestly:

Joe shook his head to escape the trigger, and it was successful.

I get the feeling you're trying to get us to feel sympathetic, but you're forcing it.

When we're able to relate to the characters, feeling for them will come naturally. Trying to enforce a bond through pity doesn't work. Even so, Joe sounds a little more interesting than Sean, but Sean is the main character.

I'm having to stop at the conversations for now, because as was pointed out by @Sanae Kochiya and @Eponine it's just dialogue. Boring, boring dialogue. It doesn't sound very engaging, and to me it doesn't sound very natural. Honestly, it all sounds like they're robots going through the motions. Where's the connection? Unless there IS no connection between parents and son, you need to do a better job of establishing it. Don't focus on what sounds good as a sentence for now and focus on what sounds natural. You also very much need to put more than just the conversation to make it more engaging AND to give us some insight into these characters. Actions speak louder than words, and we can gain a lot more from what you show us than what you tell us. (Especially since you give us conflicting information.) What are these characters doing as the conversation is going on? Is Sean smoothing his hair down for school? Is his mother hurrying to get breakfast ready?

(Sorry to piggyback so much on what you said, Sanae and Eponine. I agree with a lot of it.)

I'll leave off on this:

“I know the feeling,” Sean said empathically.

Show, don't tell. It's being repeated a lot, I know, but don't tell the reader when a character is being empathetic.

This is a lot of nagging, true, but there are some things here that have potential. I haven't finished all of the first chapter, admittedly, but these are things that could still use some polishing up and should be kept in mind.

 

[GS 281]

Well, Kuala Lumpur can use ditch diggers...

 

[Xarpho]

To preface, I'm hoping I don't copy anyone in this sporking. The non-bolded parts beyond this is Connor's writing.

---


On the morning of his first day of high school, Sean Gillespie awoke in his bedroom to find himself levitating. His face was mere inches away from the blades of the ceiling fan. He sighed, but he was confident that, in time, he could master this ability, just as he did the others over the years.

If this kid has mastered superhuman abilities over the years, why is levitation even a surprise?

Lowering himself back onto the mattress was going to require some mental effort on his part. He thought about coming down, and he could feel his body slowly descending. Midway, he lost control of his speed and collapsed into the mattress, leaving a boy-sized impression in it.

Do you not know how mattresses work, or is this one of those "memory foam" mattresses?

Fortunately, he did not go down deep enough to break the support boards. That would have been disastrous. The last time this happened, the boards were split in half, and his father had to install a new ceiling fan.

This doesn't make any sense. Assuming he's like Superman and is impervious to most pain, if he collapsed harder, his bed would be ruined, and harder would be crashing into the floor. The way you phrase it, he caused major structural damage to the house, something that a ceiling fan would be the worst of it.

The impression quickly leveled itself out. For a few moments, Sean stared at the window. The blinds were down, but Sean’s vision was able to peer through many things, even human flesh.

Again, like Superman but more!

The sun was rising over the Janus City suburb that he and his parents resided in. With his peculiar hearing, he could pick up on the birdsong that filled the outside air. He could even listen in on radio frequencies, which sometimes came in handy.

If you're going to make a fictional city, try not to make it some sort of cyberpunk dystopia. There's some reference later on that puts it in Illinois. Why not Chicago? And if you were trying to make it more generic than Chicago, why not just a normal sounding "generic American city"?

The quirks, as he called him, were not bothering Sean Gillespie this morning. It was the fact that he would again be in the presence of other kids that instilled some dread and doubt in him. Nevertheless, he looked forward to this day, and suppressed his apprehension. His mother, always the fervent cheerleader, was surely ecstatic.

So does he like school or hate it? (Sorry that's already been picked at, but it is annoying)

His backpack had already contained the necessary textbooks and materials. All he needed to do this morning was get dressed and have a quick breakfast. He rose from his bed, stood up in his t-shirt and sweatpants, and stretched. Walking over to the mirrored closet, he picked out a white shirt and black pants. He didn’t want to dress in such a way as to draw unneeded attention. Something simple would suffice.

This is just unnecessary exposition.

With his school clothes on, Sean closed the doors of the closet, and saw his reflection. He stood at about 5’7, and while slender, he was well-built and athletic. His hair was short and dark. Most people who had met him say that he looked like a much younger Bruce Lee. The most distinguishing feature of Sean was his piercing blue eyes. Under certain lighting, they had kind of a shine effect.

I'm not against celebrity name-dropping (unless it's too obscure) but why Bruce Lee? Is Sean Asian?

This was all merely physical. Sean did not fully understand many things about himself, even though many described him as being wise beyond his years. He didn’t understand, really, who he truly was, his place in the grand scheme of things a total mystery. At fourteen, he had left childhood behind and was embarking on an awkward path in his development as an individual. He kept his chin up, but there was always doubt, a sort of wondering.

If not Superman, then maybe a mutant? Like X-Men?

“This is the first day of the rest of your life,” he said to his reflection. “Let’s make it a good one, shall we?” Sean smirked as he turned around and walked out of his room. At sundown on Saturday, the Janus City Challengers were going to face the Chicago Cubs at Kirby Stadium. He looked forward to it.

I'm not sure how throwing in a reference to a baseball game is the best way to begin this. Also, over-importance on high school is high school drama. Unless this is supposed to be a YA novel, this sort of thing is kinda stupid if you're past high school (aren't most of?)

###

Having already dressed for the job and with his forty-fives holstered, Detective Joe Gillespie was stuffing his pack of Marlboros in the pocket of his coat when he noticed that more gray hairs were popping up on his fifty-five year old head. His face was bony, and had two scars, a vertical one on his left eyebrow and horizontal one on the cheek below. He adjusted the wedding ring on his finger, the last section of it having been blown off a long time ago. Joe shook his head to escape the trigger, and it was successful.

The first sentence is just awful. Passive voice, way too long...I'm not even an English major and this stuff is awful.

He looked again at his hair. “I’m too old for this shit,” his said under his breath.

Discount Danny Glover. *ding*

Suddenly, he heard his wife Mary, nee Tsubaraya, sniffling. He turned from where he stood in the bathroom, and slowly walked into the connected bedroom. She, too, was dressed; she had the day shift at Janus City Central as an emergency room nurse.

OK, so Sean is at least half-Asian. But I have a feeling that's also forced somehow.

Joe noticed that she was going through the family photo album, and sat down beside her. Mary wiped a tear from the top of her mouth, rubbing it away from the lightning bolt-shaped scar left from childhood surgery to repair her harelip. Her misty eyes were focused solely on the photos preserved in plastic.

This is another one of those minor details that make no sense. Unless this is a plot point later on, leave the actor-appearance notes out of it.

Fourteen years ago, she was holding Sean, just a few months old. His eyes were closed, and unlike most babies, he was unusually silent.

Babies cry a lot, but they also sleep a lot.

At the age of four, Sean was sitting on top of his father’s shoulders, his little hands resting on his hair, which had more color than it usually did nowadays.

At age ten, Sean was in full Little League gear, mitt and ball in his hands.


“We’ve done a good job, haven’t we?” Mary asked. “With him?”

“I think we’ve done more than great,” Joe answered, smiling with closed lips.

Mary looked at him. “There’s this fear that I have. I’m afraid that because of what he’s capable of…”

“That the kids wouldn’t cotton to him,” Joe finished. “I’d tell them to go screw themselves.”

Mary chuckled, her voice regaining strength. “That’s a lovely way of putting it.”

“I never was the kind of guy that sugarcoats things, Mare.”

“We’ve done so much for Sean. The years have gone by so fast.”

“He’s not a little kid anymore.”

“Yeah, I know that. It just hurts, you know, letting him go his own way.”

“If it was painless, it wouldn’t really be called growing up.”

“I guess you’re right, Joe.” There was an uncomfortable silence as Mary struggled to find the right words to say. She was hesitant, but decided to let it loose from her lips. “Should we tell him? After all this time, should we tell him?”

“Tell me what?” a voice near and dear to them inquired.

Let me guess: he was adopted. But then that "half-Asian" thing wouldn't work, would it?

[dialogue]

With that, Joe turned the key, and off the father and son went, waving goodbye as they turned out of the driveway of the Gillespie household and disappeared into cityscape.

Besides the boring dialogue, I just can't get over the fact that switched abruptly to the dad's POV mid-chapter. If you want to do that, do not do that mid-chapter. Finish up Sean's story first. Again, I'm sorry if someone has already done something like this, but those are just my thoughts...