The Big Al Experiment
A cardinal rule among writers is that you NEVER let family members critique drafts of your work. Invariably they will either praise it beyond its worth or shred it (and you) to ribbons.
My father, Al Orcutt (a.k.a. "Big Al" and "Broken-Down Old Dad"), is a retired school principal and avid reader. Although most of his reading is in American history and contemporary politics, he does enjoy the occasional novel and is a rabid fan of one of my favorite writers, John Irving. Until recently, Al had a retiree dream job—"working" in the Millbrook paint store. Since foot traffic has never been overwhelming in the village, Al got a lot of reading done.
Dad posing at the paint store. I was going for the look of those
antique photographs, in which the proprietor is expressionless.
But Al got bored with it, and the woman he was working for, although a savvy businesswoman, has a reputation for annoying her employees over time. So, for the first time in his life, Al actually QUIT a job.
The trouble is, now Al doesn't have a lot to do during the day. If I drop by (we live in the same town, across the street from each other—purely coincidental), Al is usually ranting at CNN or MSNBC about some new "damn bullshiit thing that idiot Bush is doing." I'll sit with Al for half an hour or so, during which time each of us will test our blood pressure twice, then go home shaking my head. What's becoming of my poor old broken-down old dad?
So...I've decided to break the Prime Directive and give Al a copy of my latest novel to read and critique. He needs a project, and although I've had several readers, I need a reader of his type, somebody who will read it purely for the story and who will tell me if it bores him at any point.
Al's verdict on the book will likely be one of two exclamations (spoken with a thick Downeast Maine accent):
"Jeezus Christ, Chris—how do you do it? Jeezus, if I tried to come up with a story longer than a page, my goddamn eyeballs would explode."
"Jeezus Christ, Chris—it was good, but so many characters. I mean, Jeezus, how many of the fuckers do you need?"
I printed out a copy last night and will hand-deliver it to him this morning. While I'm over there, I'll test my blood pressure. I'll probably need it.
I'll report back to you in a couple of weeks, when I'm making this little project due.