View Full Version : The Secret Recipe
The Secret Recipe
by
DATo
Bertie Haskins stomped across the kitchen floor to bring her husband a second cup of morning coffee.
"I knows that partic’lar sound a’them boots of yourn Ma. What’s got ya so riled up?"
"I tell ya Pa, that Eleanor Pruit is in cahoots with them judges. I just knows she are."
"Now Ma, ye ain’t gonna start in on that a’gin, are ye?"
"Not only that, but she’s bold enough to beat all get-up. She’s been a hussy since the time we was in school books."
"T’were’nt neither Ma. Ellie was just a pretty gal, and so she had herseff lots’a beaus. Ain’t her fault the Lord done give her nice looks."
"She’s a hussy I tell ya Pa. I seen her flutterin them eyelashes at them judges and a’smilin at em. Last year she won that derned blue ribbon a’gin with that lemon meringue pie, and ever body knows I make the best lemon meringue pie in this here county."
"You do make a fine lemon meringue Ma, and that’s a fact."
"Things is gonna be different this year Pa. You just wait and see. I’m a’fixin to wipe that smirk off’n her face fer good. She’s cahoot’n with them judges I tell ya."
"Now Ma, ya know them pie judges gots no idea who baked what pie. Y’all have to use new pie tins so’s the judges cain’t tell em apart. Only Reverend Sikes knows which number is yourn when he writes yer name down in his book and gives ya that there card with yer number on it - the card ya put with yer pie on the table with the rest of em. You and Reverend Sikes is the only two folks on the green earth what knows which number is yourn, and Reverend Sikes ain’t even one a’them judges. Ye knows it yerseff that the reverend is the kind o’man what won’t tell nobody who baked what pie till the judgen’s over."
"That’s so Pa, but that Eleanor Pruit still got some trixies up her sleeve, and I’m a’tellin you fer the last time she’s a’cahoot’n with them judges someways! Well, I got me some trixies up mah sleeve too, so you just sit thar and wait, and you’ll see."
"How long I gots to sit here Ma?"
"Oh, shut up ! "
Across town, Eleanor Pruit and her seven year old granddaughter were busy at work in the kitchen preparing this year’s entry to the McCupin County Fair pie baking contest. This year’s entry rules required the baking of a twelve inch, apple pie to be presented in a standard, new, and nondescript pie tin.
"Granny, are you gonna win that blue ribbon a’gin this time?"
"Why only the good Lord knows who’s gonna win Sally Mae. The winner is the one who bakes the best pie so we have to do our bestest, and that’s all we can do. I done won that blue ribbon three years in a row now, so maybe time’s come fer someone else to win."
"Granny, Momma says you got secret recipes and you won’t tell nobody what they are."
"That’s a fact Sally Mae. See that recipe book yonder? I ain’t got much else of value to give yer Ma cept that, but it’s a treasure still the same. It gots all my recipe secrets in it, an it’s to be yer Ma’s when I’m gone."
"Where you going off to Granny?"
Ellie Pruit took her granddaughter in her arms. "Now don’t you never-mind about that. Lord willin I won’t be going anywhere none too soon, least ways not till you is all growed up, so’s I can see with my own two eyes the pretty lady you is sure to be someday."
"Do you have a secret fer this here apple pie Granny?"
"I surely do, an you know what, I’m a’gonna tell it to ya, but yer not to tell nobody - not never. Now you keep stirring this pot on the stove and I’m gonna put the secret recipe gredients in whilst yer a’stirin. See this right here? this is extracts’es of some crushed and boiled cloves and a bay leafs; an this, this right here, is cinnamon; this tiny little ol’ cup right here is pure maple syrup; and this last one is the juice from some boiled down red peppers. We just gonna put in a bitty-bit-smidgen or two of that. Red pepper! Ain’t that a hoot?"
"Sure is Granny. What’s a ‘hoot’ Granny?" Eleanor Pruit laughed out loud as she once again hugged her granddaughter. Just as she turned back to the pot belly stove Eleanor heard a knock at the door.
"Now that must be Hiram. He brings the mail just about this time o’mornin ever day, and when he knocks it means he has a package I gots to sign a paper fer. It’s probably yer Grandpap’s pipe tobacco. Now you just keep a’standin on that chair and a’stirin that pot while I go see to Hiram."
Bertie Haskins, in her own kitchen, had hunkered down to business as well, for she and her husband would have to leave home at five in the morning to cover the eight miles to the fair in their buckboard wagon in order to arrive in time to submit her own pie entry. She was bound and determined to create the finest apple pie McCupin County ever knew. It bewildered Bertie to think that the choice of a simple apple pie had never been selected by the fair committee in the past when deciding the type of pie the contestants were to submit; but this year’s choice only played to Bertie’s strength, for her apple pies were second to none. Bertie always took great satisfaction in watching the facial transformation from indifference to pure bliss when the uninitiated took their first bite. But this satisfaction would pale beside the satisfaction Bertie was sure to experience tomorrow by beating Eleanor Pruit in the pie baking contest.
"That infernal hussy is gonna have her comeuppance if it’s the last thing I do!" muttered a determined Bertie Haskins.
By mid morning of the following day Bertie and her husband had arrived at the McCupin County Fair. After entering her pie at the judge’s pavilion with Reverend Sikes, and getting her number card, Bertie had insinuated herself within twenty paces of the table upon which the contestant’s pies were displayed. Both she and her husband were nicely concealed behind a tall elderberry bush.
"Why is we a’standin behind this here ol’ bush Ma, and why ain’t ye put yer pie on the table?"
"Never you mind why. I just knows you’re a’hankerin to get over to the horse racin to see Elmer-John’s boy race that stallion of his. Well, be off with ya. I’m a’stayin right here. Go on now, git. I’ll catch up with ye after later."
As Bertie’s husband disappeared into the crowd Bertie kept an alert eye trained upon the table as she peered stealthily between the branches of the elderberry bush. She soon saw that for which she had been waiting. Eleanor Pruit was approaching the table accompanied by a very young girl. Eleanor then set her pie upon the table and placed her white, number card in front of it. Bertie waited till Eleanor and the child departed in the direction of the red and white, striped ice cream tent before she emerged from behind the bush.
"Second row, third from the left." noted Bertie Haskins.
Bertie now approached the table with her eyes fixed upon Eleanor Pruit’s pie much like an eagle bearing down upon its prey. Upon arriving at the table she laid her pie upon it and placed her number card before her entry, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of Eleanor’s creation. She took note of the beautifully glazed and browned crust. After glancing to her right and then to her left to make sure no one was watching she quickly bent over to smell the pie, but this exercise availed her little with regard to the information she so desperately sought. Suddenly, and unaccountably, Bertie Haskins’ confidence failed her. Was it the persistent, haunting memory of the lemon meringue debacle, or had Bertie somehow convinced herself that a benificent angel of Providence forever watched over Eleanor Pruit’s affairs? Bertie suddenly knew with absolute certainty that she was destined to endure yet another torturous year drowning in the agony of knowing that she had been bested by a woman she had jealously despised since her childhood. It was at that moment that Bertie Haskins made a desperate and profound decision. She turned slowly and casually while surveying the crowd to make certain that no one was taking notice before deftly switching her number card with that of Eleanor Pruit’s. Bertie then melted inconspicuously into the crowd of fairgoers.
The day wore on, and after the judges had sampled all of the pie contestant’s entries Reverend Sikes climbed upon a step ladder and made the following announcement through a long, tin megaphone. "The McCupin County Fair pie contest has been decided. Will the contestants please approach the judge’s pavilion at this time."
Bertie’s conscience was not troubled in the least as she made her way to the pie judge’s pavilion. She would finally have her satisfaction, and her revenge. After repeating the announcement twice more, thus allowing enough time to pass for all of the contestants to gather, Reverend Sikes stood upon the step ladder once again as the seven contest judges took their places behind him in a row.
"Ladies and gentlemen," thundered the megaphone, "for the first time in the history of the McCupin County Fair the decision of the judges for the blue ribbon award was unanimous on the first ballot. And the winner is .... Eleanor Pruit! Second prize goes to Miss Nancy Price, and the third prize is awarded to Mary-Alice Coombs. Congratulations ladies!"
Bertie Haskins grit her teeth and threw back her shoulders. Her face remained impassive. She then strode with a resolute, measured step to the elderberry bush she had hidden behind earlier that morning until she was sure to be so concealed that no one might see her. Only then did she permit herself to collapse to the ground and weep bitterly. Bertie Haskins had legitimately won the contest ... a unanimous decision ... first time in history ... but she could tell no one - not now, not ever - for what she had done by switching her card with Eleanor’s was so despicable an act that her name would be denigrated in infamy forever should anyone ever find out. The pie that Bertie’s nemesis, Eleanor Pruit, had actually baked, the pie before which Bertie had placed her own number card, did not even place among the winning entries. Eleanor never would have had a chance to win even if Bertie had not switched the number cards. This, too, confounded Bertie but her grief left little time to ponder the meaning of this mysterious implausibility.
On a street in town, the day after the fair, a group of eight women were congregated in front of Bulmer’s Hardware Store.
"My husband was one of the judges, and he said that Bertie Haskins’ pie was the worst thing he ever put into his mouth in his entire life." whispered Mabel Cass.
"Well, I hear’d it was so bad that some folks is sayin that Bertie was fer sure a’tryin to poison them judges." contributed Elma-Sue Barnett. "One of them mens took and buried the rest of that there pie in the ground lest some poor ol’ dog was to eat it from the garbage AND DIE."
Mabel Cass continued, "My husband told me, he said, ‘I declare, I never afore tasted an apple pie as delicious as Eleanor Pruit’s’. Herbert didn’t stop talkin bout that apple pie all night. That Eleanor Pruit must be some kind of pie-baking wizard to get Herbert that worked up. I’d give anything for that apple pie recipe of Eleanor’s, I surely would."
Back at the Pruit residence, as the afore-stated conversation was taking place, Eleanor pinned her newly won blue ribbon to her granddaughter’s jumper. "I owe it all to you Sally Mae. You stirred that mess o’ gredients just perfect, and that’s why we won this here blue ribbon."
"T’ain’t neither Granny. You won this here ribbon cause I put in secret gredients too when Grandpap’s tabaccy come and you wasn’t here."
"Why, do tell ! What secret gredients did you put in there Sally Mae?"
"Cain’t tell ya Granny. It’s a secret."
Eleanor Pruit laughed loudly, and so hard that her whole body shook. She then hugged her granddaughter close and gave her a loud-smacking kiss on the cheek. "Well go on then and keep yer ol’ secret, an I’ll just go on an love ya anyways."
And so it came to pass that the story of the nineteen-ought-four McCupin County Fair pie baking contest entered into local legend and lore. Sally Mae, ever faithful to her convictions, kept her secret to herself, thereby becoming the only person ever to know that to win an apple pie blue ribbon unanimously it was absolutely necessary to include among the ingredients an entire tin of cinnamon, and the entire concentrated remains of red pepper juice. Stirring the concoction thoroughly, in Sally Mae’s considered opinion, may be viewed as optional.
.
108 fountains
01-11-2015, 05:48 PM
I always enjoy your stories DATo, and this one is no exception. I liked that both the plot and the characters were well thought out. In some ways, it was like a mystery - once Bertie switched the cards, there were any number of ways the plot could have gone. I enjoyed the course you took.
I also enjoyed the simplicity of the plot - simple and short, and yet you were able to really paint the character of Bertie Haskins in some complexity. She reminded me of similar characters out of Thomas Hardy novels - at the core a good woman, but jealous and with other faults that lead to her own ruin ("ruin" may be too strong a word, but you know what I mean). Great irony in that after finally succeeding in her efforts, she not only was unable to bask in the public recognition she so desperately craved, but suffered the whispers of ridicule as well. That was my favorite part of the story.
The ending was fun as it is. I wonder though... what if you took out the last paragraph and just left the reader to guess what Sallie Mae had done? No, I think what you did was better - bringing us to a sort of closure.
It's interesting that we are both doing stories with a Southern dialect at the same time. Mine is purposely over-exaggerated, but yours has a true ring to it.
MANICHAEAN
01-12-2015, 06:31 AM
Quite simply a lovely story, simply told, in dialogue that even I who is not a Southern Boy (or God Forbid, a Yankee!) could understand and appreciate.
Well done.
Best regards
M.
Many thanks guys! Actually, this story was written for another website. It was originally to be a submission to a contest but I don't want to compete with anyone. I just write for fun, and whenever there is money or awards at stake I think the entire purpose of writing, at least in my case, is profaned.
As you say MANICHAEN, I intentionally wanted to keep this story light and simple. I'm glad that it came across as such in your estimation and that you still found it enjoyable to read.
108, it never occurred to me that there were many optional directions I could have gone with the story till I read your post as I was fixed upon the story taking the path it actually took, but you are right. I realize now that it could have gone in one of several interesting directions.
One challenge was to show that Eleanor was a good person and not the type of person Bertie claimed her to be. I tried to do this by showing her interactions with her granddaughter and her willing admission that maybe it was time for someone else to win the contest. I also wanted to include more humor with regard to Pa and Ma's interaction (I like Pa, reminded me of Percy Kilbride) but I didn't want to stretch the story out any longer than it needed to be
I'm glad you guys liked it. It was a fun story to write.
AuntShecky
01-15-2015, 12:44 AM
You are quite right comparing the couple with Ma and Pa Kettle, DATo. In many ways this story fits more comfortably in the 1940s than it does in 2015. This was slightly before my time, but I guess the movie series was really popular. Rural folks didn't really care for movies about themselves I guess. Hence the famous Variety headline: "Sticks Nix Hick Pix" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sticks_nix_hick_pix)
The contribution to the pie from young "Sallie Mae" (the name spelled exactly like the notorious student loan program) brought me back to an incident in my childhood. My mother took pride in making homemade chili sauce in a elaborate ritual involving large bubbling pots full of sauce as well as boiling water for the Mason jars. I don't know if I thought I was helping or was just plain mischievous, but I dumped some extra chili powder into the concoction when my mother's back was turned. The fireworks that eventually ensued had little to do with the hotness of the peppers. There was nothing in our ethnic background that included heirloom recipes for chili sauce, but I tell you she was an exemplar of the legendary Irish temper. So that part of the plot resonated, at least for me.
Aside from that, the verisimilitude fades a bit I'm afraid. Getting dialect right is really tricky. First of all, if a writer wants to employ regional speech patterns, he almost has to be a Henry Higgins. He also has to be extremely specific about the geographic region and the regional accent for that area. There is no such thing as a generic "Southern" accent. Likewise in New England, people sound different not just from state to state but county to country, maybe even from town to town.
Another problem with dialect is knowing not to overdo it. Generally speaking, it's better to suggest a regional accent rather than try to transcribe every single phoneme. Keeping it all consistent is another danger zone. On the one hand, you've got to make sure the characters pronounce the syllables the same way all the time, but on the other hand, all of your characters sound exactly alike. That could present a problem in a story such as this one, which is nearly all dialogue. Assigning distinctive speech patterns to each of the various characters can help the reader tell them apart.
In a way excessive dialect saddles the reader with another burden, in that she finds herself having to translate the lines into standard English in order to determine what in tarnation the character is saying.
The worst thing is an inadvertent condescending tone. Certainly you don't mean your characters to sound ignorant, but that's exactly how they seem: uneducated and slightly dim-witted. I do realize that you wrote this for fun -- which is what all writing should be!-- but a little subtlety and a less-heavy hand will go a long way to make it funnier.
A good model for striking the right balance for this kind of humor is Garrison Keillor's Lake Woebegone Days, both in short sotry form and as part of the Prarie Home Companion radio show. His humor can be pointed at times, but seldom comes from a superior attitude. A neat trick for Keillor, having grown up in Minnesota, a bedrock of mid-western (and probably mid-cult) values, Norwegian bachelor farmers, and SUV-driving liberals, with Minneapolis/St. Paul as the home of NPR. You'll notice that except in sketches, he and his guests don't usually attempt to replicate regional dialects. He probably could do it with facility, though; as a native son of that area, he knows about the people he writes about. He's one of them. You could say that in a way, the humor is self-deprecating -- or as my late sister used to say, "self-depreciating."
Other than these concerns, I enjoyed reading your story.
Auntie
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sticks_nix_hick_pix
Howdy-do Auntie!
Always a pleasure to read your critiques. I especially enjoyed your story about the time you "helped" your mother with the chile recipe *LOL*
Some responses to your critique, though not necessarily in the order you stated them:
On the one hand, you've got to make sure the characters pronounce the syllables the same way all the time, but on the other hand, all of your characters sound exactly alike. That could present a problem in a story such as this one, which is nearly all dialogue. Assigning distinctive speech patterns to each of the various characters can help the reader tell them apart.
He also has to be extremely specific about the geographic region and the regional accent for that area. There is no such thing as a generic "Southern" accent.
I think assigning different speech patterns to different characters would not necessarily help the reader differentiate between them. I think anyone reading this piece could easily tell the characters apart. Whenever it was necessary to identify a new character, such as the women gossiping before the hardware store, I did identify them by name. Also, the whole point of maintaining the same regional dialect was obviously necessary since the characters all came from the same place. If I had NOT done so I would be guilty of inconsistency.
The precise geographic location was not necessary and would contribute little, if anything, to the story. Suffice it to say that this was a small, rural town at the dawn of the last century, and not necessarily a "Southern" town - Northerners of this era living in rural areas spoke in much the same dialect. I have personally known people born not long after this era who spoke precisely the way these characters are represented.
In a way excessive dialect saddles the reader with another burden, in that she finds herself having to translate the lines into standard English in order to determine what in tarnation the character is saying.
I think that depends on the way the dialect is presented. In the case of this particular story I make no claim to have succeeded, I will leave that for readers of this story to decide. A Confederacy Of Dunces was a book which won the Pulitzer and it is very heavily laced with many different dialects which in my opinion were masterfully rendered by the author, John Kennedy Toole. The Pulitzer speaks for itself - it apparently was not considered a liability or "burden" in the minds of the critics. But in your defense I must admit that readers have at times complained about this with regard to Toole's book.
The worst thing is an inadvertent condescending tone. Certainly you don't mean your characters to sound ignorant, but that's exactly how they seem: uneducated and slightly dim-witted.
My attitude toward these characters is NOT "condescending". I think there is a difference between mental deficiency and lack of education. The manner in which these characters speak and relate to each other is consistent with the manner in which people actually spoke and the cultural milieu which existed in rural areas of this vintage regardless of their mental, moral, or professional status. I have worked with many, many Ph.Ds for almost forty years and I can assure you from personal experience and with absolute conviction that there is no correlation between academic achievement and wisdom, OR moral integrity for that matter. I have also known people who could barely read or write who I consider among the wisest and kindest people I have ever known.
A good model for striking the right balance for this kind of humor is Garrison Keillor's Lake Woebegone Days, both in short sotry form and as part of the Prarie Home Companion radio show.
I am really reluctant to take issue with you on this next point because I know it is merely a matter of personal taste but I have never been a big fan of Garrison Keillor though I know he is loved by many of his readers/listeners. There is something in his delivery which sounds (to me anyway) to be a bit contrived and theatrical ... I don't know quite how to describe it but his presentations fall flatly on my ears. I am more of a fan of Jean Shepherd; but once again, there is no right or wrong here, just a matter of taste.
As always I am grateful for your comments. Every criticism of yours behooves me to revisit my writing and examine it while employing your razor sharp literary scalpel. I have never read a critique of yours with regard to my writing that I did not feel helped me in some way. I am aware that sometimes further explanation is required on my part but I would FAR rather hear your criticism than not, and I thank you for it most genuinely.
I do hope everyone recovered from the chile [:- o *LOL*
(((HUGS)))
AuntShecky
01-15-2015, 04:18 PM
I don't remember how the fam fared re: the chili sauce. I was all of six years old --several, and I mean several Presidential administrations ago!
Giving each character a distinctive speech pattern is one way of individualizing them, other than identifying them merely by name. If you don't want to tweak the speech, you can give them distinguishing mannerisms.
When you have passages of dialogue unrelieved by description or direct address -- which is perfectly Kosher, btw-- you can break it up once in a while with an occasional "he said" or "she said." Note the speaker's name generally precedes the "said." Phrases such as "noted Bertie" or ". . . muttered a determined Bertie Haskins" is a somewhat old-fashioned practice, often found in fiction from previous centuries and time-honored fairy tales.
I admit I like Keillor, albeit he often does seem firmly trenched in the realm of "mid-cult" (Dwight MacDonald's term.) I like Jean Shepard as well, maybe a little more as he's slightly "edgier."
I'm grateful that you've appreciated my 'umble comments.
Auntie
Better than most, not as good as many.
MANICHAEAN
01-16-2015, 03:28 AM
Lee
I read your input on the stories:
1. The Secret Recipe.
2. The Tale of Mr Mac.
3. Any Short Stories
4. Uncle Walter
The Lit Net Mutual Admiration Society, (as you refer to it) looks forward with bated breath to a story from you.
Better than most, not as good as many.
Greetings Lee, and thank you for your comment.
I totally agree with you that there are many stories to be found here which are better than mine. As you know we here are all (well, for the most part anyway) unpublished writers who write as a hobby. Since we are unpublished it is difficult for us to know whether we are writing well or not for we have no barometer or standard with which to assess our work. This forum allows us to bounce our work off of other amateur writers to get their opinion and perhaps serve as a guide to help us write better in the future.
Once in awhile I will find some small criticism to offer in someone else's work but most of the time I am so intrigued by the creativity that I find in the writing here that I tend to focus on that. It seems I always tend to look at what's good about another writer's work and what has impressed me rather than any errors or faults - which would make me a terrible professional critic I'm afraid *LOL*.
My greatest fear, a fear which outweighs any praise I might receive, is that after reading one of my stories the reader will feel that I have wasted their time. I sincerely hope that you do not feel I have wasted your time and that you got at least some measure of enjoyment from my story.
Once again, thanks for the comment. [:- )
Hawkman
01-17-2015, 09:22 AM
Hi DAto,
I read this a few days ago but I've only just got around to commenting. Sorry about that. Firstly, I want to say that it is an entertaining read and I enjoyed the old-worldy, turn of the nineteenth century style. This was nicely realised, though some critics might complain that that it is a bit dated. Personally, I appreciated the effort of telling a story in a historical setting of time and place with a contemporaneous feel. Something of a morality tale, isn't it. Spite, jealousy and dishonesty all get their just deserts. If there is a fault it is that the plot is perhaps too linear, which makes it predictable. Consequently, the ending leaves the reader a little unsatisfied. The dialogue of the protagonist clearly sets up her motivation, but the business describing the rules governing entry into the competition overtly telegraphs how and what she's going to do much too early in the narrative. I feel it would have been better to have revealed the procedure as she did it, rather than explaining it all at the start. The fact that her antagonist is shown not to be the daemon she's regarded as by Bertie, also pretty much makes the conclusion inevitable. There's foreshadowing, and foreshadowing, if you get my drift. A hint of Bertie's potential dishonesty in an unrelated context would, I feel, have been better. Either that, or the inclusion of a few red herrings, which would give the plot a twist. As I said, this one holds no surprises.
I'm also unsure of that last paragraph. Is it really necessary? I'd say no. It doesn't quite work. The idea that the child was, "...the only person ever to know that to win an apple pie blue ribbon unanimously it was absolutely necessary to include among the ingredients an entire tin of cinnamon, and the entire concentrated remains of red pepper juice..." speaks of a perpetual innocence extending into a future in which she never put it to the test, unlikely given the milieu. Surely, at some time she'd have found out that such a concoction would be uneatable. She must've tried it out, one feels, and that story would have been an interesting and entertaining conclusion.
This isn't a bad story by any means, but perhaps a little judicious tinkering would make it a really good one.
Live and be well - H
AuntShecky
01-18-2015, 12:17 AM
Hi DATo,
It's me again. I welcome comments from all NitLetters, including the newer ones. I like concise, succinct replies, but not brusque ones. By that I mean, I wish the person who said "Better than most, not as good as many" would have been more
forthcoming in his or her reason for that assessment. As it is, the comment doesn't help you or me. I'm telling you this, to let you know I'm on your side and don't like to see your work treated so curtly.
The second thing I want to say is to note the first line of Hawkman's comment above. I agree that it's certainly okay to set your stories in earlier historical eras and despite my opinions on the use of regional dialect, the characters could look and sound indigenous to that period. However, as Hawkman notes, we should bring into such work a contemporary sensibility. I can explain it better with examples : The Sot-Weed Factor by John Barth and stories by your aforementioned fave, Jean Shepherd, wrote about the past, but we never lost sight of the fact that these writers were 100% modern. We are writing in 2015, and optimally we writers would want to bring literature forward without going backward.
My late sister-in-law had a wistful fascination with Victorian times. It was somewhat like nostalgia, but she was too young to have lived in that era. (She was a little like the man in the Twilight Zone episode who longed to get off the commuter train at a stop for a bygone town called Willoughby.) When my sister-in-law said she wished she had lived back then, I reminded her that civil rights,electricity, refrigeration, and antibiotics-- among other things --were unknown in the 19th century. She conceded that point, but I think she still wished to have lived in a Victorian times (but maybe a version in an alternative universe that included Penicillin.)
Greetings Hawkman, and thank you for your reply.
Often when reading critiques of my writing I immediately recognize the wisdom of the critic's observation, then slap the side of my head and mutter, "He/she's absolutely right. What were you ever thinking when you wrote that?" Perhaps you took note of a comment I made long ago in another thread in which I mentioned that I had the pleasure of meeting 108 fountains at a locally famous bar/restaurant during a trip he was making cross-country. (I just want to mention that 108 fountains is the truly kind and wonderful person he appears to be from your experience of him through his Lit Net posts.) 108 and I discussed The Lit Net and our many friends here, as well as, of course, writing in general. One of my stories, one of which I am most proud, is The Wisdom Of Herr Hoffman, but 108 pointed out that the paragraph just before the Epilogue was very klunky and rendered the two conceits I was attempting to merge in an incongruent manner. He was absolutely right, and I was already embarrassingly aware of it before he even mentioned it. I was attempting to merge two ending premises which could perhaps have been merged properly by a better writer, but I had totally dropped the ball.
Believe me when I say that I am my own harshest critic, but sometimes I feel justified in defending the reasons why I wrote something the way I have. Often the reader (and I am guilty of this myself at times) does not ask the question of WHY the author wrote in the manner in which he did. In a recently posted story, Nirvana, the author, Nikhar, included what appeared at first reading to be a gratuitous sex scene. Before commenting I asked myself the question, Why?, and after a bit of reflection I completely understood the author's purpose behind that bit of writing.
I hope to adequately address the points you made in your critique by the following. As I did in response to Aunt Shecky's post, and for the sake of clarity, I will address each point individually.
Something of a morality tale, isn't it. Spite, jealousy and dishonesty all get their just deserts.
You are very perceptive. This story is in response to a short story contest elsewhere on the internet. The mandated topic of the story, as chosen by the website administrator was, The self-destructive results of hate and revenge. I did not choose to enter the contest for reasons explained in an earlier post but took up the challenge and wrote a story anyway.
... describing the rules governing entry into the competition overtly telegraphs how and what she's going to do much too early in the narrative. I feel it would have been better to have revealed the procedure as she did it, rather than explaining it all at the start.
I assume you are talking about Pa's response to Ma in which he describes the mechanics of entering the contest and the improbability of anyone knowing by whom the individually displayed pies were baked. I spent a lot of thought on that paragraph and rewrote it many times. I was challenged to present the manner in which the pies were logged as well as looking ahead to make sure that the way in which it was presented would leave no plot holes - that the logic would remain intact. It wasn't as easy as it appears.
Personally I don't see how a reader could easily make the jump from the presentation of the entry rules to what Bertie eventually did. Did you come to this conclusion at the time you read this paragraph? If you did I have seriously screwed up. It was more important to present the entry rules in the way I did so that the reader COULD see, early-on, how and why Bertie was able to do what she did later. In one paragraph I explained how the entry procedure worked thereby not stretching the story out longer than it needed to be. This single paragraph was actually the hardest part of the entire story to write.
The fact that her antagonist is shown not to be the daemon she's regarded as by Bertie, also pretty much makes the conclusion inevitable. There's foreshadowing, and foreshadowing, if you get my drift.
You are correct, and in one of my earlier responses I addressed this point. It was my task to make the reader aware that Eleanor was not the type of person Bertie considered her to be. I wanted the reader to know this. I did this repeatedly, through Pa's comments; through Eleanor's beautiful interaction with her granddaughter; and through Eleanor's sportsmanlike assertion that perhaps it was someone else's turn to win. The reader must understand this simple concept in order for the story to work. The reader must be made to understand that Bertie is wrong in her judgment of Eleanor. I do not think this necessarily makes the conclusion inevitable, though I admit it does seem to lean in that direction. I could have had Bertie win and Eleanor congratulate her sincerely leaving Bertie ashamed of her prior feelings thus making her victory a pyrrhic victory. At this stage of the story anything could still happen.
I'm also unsure of that last paragraph. Is it really necessary? I'd say no. The idea that the child was, "...the only person ever to know" speaks of a perpetual innocence extending into a future in which she never put it to the test, unlikely given the milieu. Surely, at some time she'd have found out that such a concoction would be uneatable. She must've tried it out, one feels, and that story would have been an interesting and entertaining conclusion.
108 fountains made a similar comment: was this paragraph necessary? but ultimately, I think, 108 understood the Why.
At one point in my writing of the discussion between Eleanor and her granddaughter - the point at which she tells Sally Mae that she is going to divulge the secret to her - Eleanor made the comment, "You'll probably forget it by tomorrow anyway." I decided to delete that comment because it is obvious. The child is seven years old. She will forget what she did by the time she is old enough to be baking her own apple pies. She will remember the event but will not remember the ingredients for she has no firm understanding of pie baking at this time and all of the ingredients are abstractions to her, as they would be to any child.
A hint of Bertie's potential dishonesty in an unrelated context would, I feel, have been better. Either that, or the inclusion of a few red herrings, which would give the plot a twist. As I said, this one holds no surprises.
Most of my stories contain a major twist and I usually present it dramatically. In this case I wanted to do something slightly different. I wanted to experiment with phasing in the twist gradually. The last few paragraphs were calculated to this end. When Sally Mae tells Eleanor she put in extra ingredients we know what happened - the twist is blown. The last paragraph further elaborates upon the twist but my intention in including it was rather to bring a sense of, for want of a better expression, "closing the door gently upon the story".
As always, thanks for your comments, and I hope I have adequately clarified some of my reasons regarding the manner in which the story was presented. I assure you I will revisit my story and probe it more closely with your criticisms in mind. I further assure you that I never dismiss a critique out-of-hand for I consider each of them a golden gift of opportunity to learn from my mistakes by like-minded writers.
Hi DATo,
It's me again. I welcome comments from all NitLetters, including the newer ones. I like concise, succinct replies, but not brusque ones. By that I mean, I wish the person who said "Better than most, not as good as many" would have been more forthcoming in his or her reason for that assessment. As it is, the comment doesn't help you or me. I'm telling you this, to let you know I'm on your side and don't like to see your work treated so curtly. ......
As the buxom woman said to her bra, "Thank you for your support." *LOL*
Hawkman
01-18-2015, 11:29 AM
Hi DAto,
Of course you're perfectly entitled to defend your work, but by the same precept, I feel entitled to defend my critique. :D To answer your question, "Did you come to this conclusion at the time you read this paragraph?" Yes, I'm afraid I did. Honestly, I'm not in the business of trying to score points off anyone. It's all about narrative dynamics and Reader Response. At any moment, the reader is asking, "why am I being told this?" of the narrative. In this context, given Bertie's rivalry with Eleanor Pruit, it serves to illustrate how the rules governing the anonymity of submissions might be circumvented. The reader is then left in the same position as they're in when watching a film called Titanic. Everyone knows how it will end and they're just waiting for the inevitable to happen. The Manichean nature of the morality tale also casts the story in terms of black and white. Making Eleanor so good and nice and Bertie so jealous and bad-tempered just makes the story predictable. As I said. It's a very linear progression, so no surprises.
As for the paragraph in question, all you need at this stage of the tale is for Pa to say, "Now Ma, ya know them pie judges gots no idea who baked what pie." The mechanism you contrived for preserving that anonymity is fine. The point is that you tell us, way in advance of the event, which, as I have explained, telegraphs what's going to happen. If on the other hand you had shown us that mechanism, as it happened, when Bertie entered her pie for the competition, it would have been much more fun and left room for portraying her conflicting emotions as part of the process.
A good twist to this tale would have been for Eleanor not to have been quite so squeaky clean as you have made her. What if the reason Eleanor always won was because she'd been doing exactly what Bertie subsequently does? Thus, the foreshadowing of Bertie's ominous, "...that Eleanor Pruit still got some trixies up her sleeve...," would have been born out. But this time, perhaps because of a sense of guilt, or as you say, because it's time for someone else to win, she wavers, and she doesn't, so Bertie's descent into sin remains the cause of her downfall and Eleanor's restraint is rewarded. This would be an amusing twist. Or you could even have padded this out a bit with Eleanor swapping them first, being seen by Bertie, who then swaps them back, which is seen by Eleanor who, unbeknownst to Bertie, again swaps. Of course this scenario could be taken too far. But a few shades of grey might have added more tone to the picture.
As for the last paragraph: if more than one person flags something as being suspect, it's time to reevaluate it. In the words of The Rabbi in Lucky Number Slevin, "The first time someone calls you a horse you punch him on the nose, the second time someone calls you a horse you call him a jerk but the third time someone calls you a horse, well then perhaps it's time to go shopping for a saddle." I'm not calling you a horse by the way, just trying to make a point ;)
The thing is that this tale is very "safe" and its heritage extends back some thousand years to the mummer's morality tale in medieval Europe. You've got all the ingredients for a cracking story, but perhaps the stirring shouldn't be optional ;)
In good faith - Live and be well - H
Greetings Hawkman,
WOW ! That was a quick reply.
You say that you figured out the ending as early as Pa's description of the pie entering procedure. I find this extremely improbable but I have no option but to accept this as truth for as you would not call me a "horse" I would not call you a liar. *LOL* I would be greatly interested to learn if anyone else came to your conclusion this early in the story as well.
You say ...
All you need at this stage of the tale is for Pa to say, "Now Ma, ya know them pie judges gots no idea who baked what pie."
What evidence is there at this point in the story to support a reader's conclusion that Pa is infallibly correct? That Pa knows with certainty that no cheating is going on? Pa, for that matter, might even be a party to the cheating for all the reader knows. Pa's description informs the reader of the precise method by which the pies are entered thus allowing the reader to logically conclude that Eleanor is probably not cheating.
Discounting the above the most obvious conclusions that could be drawn from Pa's description of the procedure are: 1) Reverend Sikes is in on Eleanor's duplicity and HE gives the wrong name to the judges (or does so through error), 2) There is, as Pa says, no cheating going on 3) There is some other manner in which Eleanor is cheating which has nothing to do with the entry of the pies as described by Pa.
Making the jump directly to what happens later in the story at this point would certainly be only a wild guess rather than a logical conclusion determined from the facts presented. I will now attempt to show the improbability of your claim that Pa's description of the entry procedure revealed the one and only logical conclusion to which you were drawn.
There is nothing to indicate at the time that you claim to have figured out the ending that Bertie would even have access to the table on which the pies were placed once she entered her pie. One would naturally assume that once the pie was submitted all access to it by its creator would be impossible. Only LATER, after describing the availability of access to the table could you or any reader know with any degree of certainty that she would be able to switch the cards with any chance at all of being able to do so unobserved. Q.E.D. To support the conceit I took great pains to describe the stealthy manner Bertie employed to make sure she knew which pie was Eleanor's and her caution to make sure no one was watching her, but this was only AFTER making it known that she had any access to the pies at all.
You mention that more than one person decided that perhaps the last paragraph of the story was unnecessary, but fail to point out that the other person who said this eventually agreed, and with no urging or presentation of defense on my part, that the ending I had chosen was better.
"The ending was fun as it is. I wonder though... what if you took out the last paragraph and just left the reader to guess what Sallie Mae had done? No, I think what you did was better - bringing us to a sort of closure."
You say ...
A good twist to this tale would have been for Eleanor not to have been quite so squeaky clean as you have made her. What if the reason Eleanor always won was because she'd been doing exactly what Bertie subsequently does? She does it again this time, before Bertie does, so Bertie actually switches the pies pack.
I find that to be an interesting idea, and believe it or not that crossed my mind when this story was in its embryonic state, but only in its embryonic state. At that point I could have described them both as a couple of vindictive biddies. But I honestly came to the conclusion then, as I do now, that the way I eventually let it play out was better.
Your idea that Eleanor is not "squeaky clean", and that a double switch occurs whereby Eleanor also switches the numbers is, as I said, interesting, and perhaps could have taken this turn at this time, but in my opinion it smacks of over-contrivance which would appear sophomoric. This also negates the work I would have put in to presenting Eleanor as a decent person and would reek of manipulation - how would it read if she suddenly went from being a saint to a scoundrel? Readers would not countenance that without taking me to task for it, and I wouldn't blame them. A more interesting plot line might be for Sally Mae to switch the cards the second time, which she in effect innocently does in a manner of speaking.
Mine is not a perfect story - I am aware of that. I doubt seriously that I am even capable of writing a perfect story. Though I am willing to be corrected I cannot hold in good conscience that the suggestions you offer would have made the story better or that the logic which serves as the foundation of this story would have been improved by the critique offered in your latest response; however, I do thank you for offering it and allowing me to offer a counter-argument.
Hawkman
01-18-2015, 02:19 PM
Watcha, DAto.
"What evidence is there at this point in the story to support a reader's conclusion that Pa is infallibly correct? That Pa knows with certainty that no cheating is going on? Pa, for that matter, might even be a party to the cheating for all the reader knows. Pa's description informs the reader of the precise method by which the pies are entered thus allowing the reader to logically conclude that Eleanor is probably not cheating."
This is irrelevant. Taken in context it is just taken as Pa trying to placate Ma and calm her down. Why on earth would the reader suppose that Pa is complicit in Eleanor's cheating? On the contrary, Pa's description, as previously stated, shows the reader, who can think for himself, how that cheating could be accomplished, as is demonstrated when Bertie finally gets around to it. Your elaborate conspiracy theory is much too complicated. The names of the various contestants don't need to be know. one only has to see who puts out their pie. Isn't this how Bertie identifies Elaenor's pie anyway? The cheat is just in swapping the number. if you can see who's pie it is that's all you need to know. Pa tells us, "ya put with yer pie on the table with the rest of em." All you have to do is watch. The simplest explanation is usually right. Occam's razor and all that.
"As Bertie’s husband disappeared into the crowd Bertie kept an alert eye trained upon the table as she peered stealthily between the branches of the elderberry bush. She soon saw that for which she had been waiting. Eleanor Pruit was approaching the table accompanied by a very young girl. Eleanor then set her pie upon the table and placed her white, number card in front of it. Bertie waited till Eleanor and the child departed in the direction of the red and white, striped ice cream tent before she emerged from behind the bush."
Your next objection is covered by the above quote from your own story. But it is your story, so if you're happy with it, then I'll give up and leave you to think about it.
All the best,
Live and be well - H
Watcha, DAto.
"What evidence is there at this point in the story to support a reader's conclusion that Pa is infallibly correct? That Pa knows with certainty that no cheating is going on? Pa, for that matter, might even be a party to the cheating for all the reader knows. Pa's description informs the reader of the precise method by which the pies are entered thus allowing the reader to logically conclude that Eleanor is probably not cheating."
This is irrelevant. Taken in context it is just taken as Pa trying to placate Ma and calm her down. Why on earth would the reader suppose that Pa is complicit in Eleanor's cheating? On the contrary, Pa's description, as previously stated, shows the reader, who can think for himself, how that cheating could be accomplished, as is demonstrated when Bertie finally gets around to it. Your elaborate conspiracy theory is much too complicated. The names of the various contestants don't need to be know. one only has to see who puts out their pie. Isn't this how Bertie identifies Elaenor's pie anyway? The cheat is just in swapping the number. if you can see who's pie it is that's all you need to know. Pa tells us, "ya put with yer pie on the table with the rest of em." All you have to do is watch. The simplest explanation is usually right. Occam's razor and all that.
"As Bertie’s husband disappeared into the crowd Bertie kept an alert eye trained upon the table as she peered stealthily between the branches of the elderberry bush. She soon saw that for which she had been waiting. Eleanor Pruit was approaching the table accompanied by a very young girl. Eleanor then set her pie upon the table and placed her white, number card in front of it. Bertie waited till Eleanor and the child departed in the direction of the red and white, striped ice cream tent before she emerged from behind the bush."
Your next objection is covered by the above quote from your own story. But it is your story, so if you're happy with it, then I'll give up and leave you to think about it.
All the best,
Live and be well - H
I think we are pulling at both ends of the cat *LOL* The problems with this piece which you have brought to my attention have been duly noted. I hope my next effort will be more to your liking. [:- )
Hawkman
01-25-2015, 06:53 PM
It isn't that I didn't like it DAto, The writing is entertaining and the basic plot is ok. It's the structure which is flawed. In fact, the more I think about it, the device for ensuring anonymity is actually quite charmingly naive, which is kind of fitting given the tone and setting of the piece. After all, taking into account that all anyone has to do to circumvent the anonymity of the contest submissions is to watch, if the judges are in a position to observe the individual contestants putting out their pies, it is quite possible for Bertie's dark imaginings vis Eleanor's flirting with them to be born out! However, that's not really the point. Its the placement and presentation of the relevant information at too early a stage that spells out the likely conclusion to the tale. To reiterate, it's not that I don't like it, rather that I feel it could be better, for all the reasons I have previously described. In most of the pieces of yours that I've read, (I regret that I haven't had time to read them all) it's the timing (and order of presentation) of key elements of plot which are most likely to be questionable.
Keep Smilin'
Live and be well - H
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