~~~Lara Zielin~~~

STATUS: All moved in and unpacked. Let the hot-tubbing begin. Yeah baby, yeah.

FAVE LINKEY-POO RIGHT THIS SECOND: A book on “Affluenza” — the epidemic of over-consumption.

One of my earliest books, HELP! I’VE BEEN CAPTURED, is a work whose title hints at scandal, intrigue, and controversy. And it might have read that way, too, had I been able to spell controversy–and not run out of paper.

My life was a normal life until this one thing accured. I was kidnapid one day!

It was Sunday untill my parents knew I was gone. [Note: My dad’s name is Chuck.]

One sunny day I found my self in the park with the robber. [Clearly the book needs a strong editorial hand. How much time had passed from one day to the next? What was daily life like with the robber?]

Then my parents went by! I started to cry and cry. They looked over. [Again, an editor could ask what their expressions were like. Were they mortified to hear a child’s cry and be reminded of their own missing offspring while they enjoyed a stroll in the park? Did they drop the hands they’d been holding, each too embarrassed to look the other in the eye and admit that they actually enjoyed life more without the kid?]

I tried to use the moris code but I didn’t know what it was. [Altogether, not a stunning plot twist, as moris code remains a mystery to this day. Morse code, on the other hand, is widely used, and could have been an effective communication device here, if implemented correctly.]

They said it did sound like me but it couldn’t. Onley it was. [The threads of a psychological thriller begin to show through. Did the parents know? Did the child know the parents knew? Oh, the mental machinations!]

So I crawled out and they saw me! [Unputdownable!]

Then the man saw me, the one that captured me. [And??]

My parents were on to some thing and so was I! [The pacing stumbles here. What happened during the moment at the park? Eds notes would definitely want the writer to clarify what, exactly, everyone thought they were on to.]

The man that captured me liked kids onley he did not have one. [A-hem. Part Two.]

So that night I went on a michon. To get a kid for him. [Moral ambiguity! Who is the kidnapper now? Do the protagonist’s altruistic motives absolve the crime? Sacre bleu, I spy Jean Valjean!]

I ran to the orphnage. [Perhaps a liberal use of stereotypes here. Are all orphans so easy to come by? Could offend adoptive parents.]

I opened the door then ring ring they thought I was a robber! [The protagonist opened the door and then rang the doorbell? Recast. And, for crying out loud, what robber rings the doorbell? The Ding Dong Bandit?]

I hid behinde a bush. [Good use of Olde English here. Evokes a sense of time and place.]

Then a man said onley a kid could get away that fast. I laughed. [And we all laughed with you, dear child. We all laughed with you.]

The end.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 29th, 2008 at 1:39 am and is filed under early works, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.