The Keet Seel Flood

...

 

Kind of cute. Just put yourselves there thirty years earlier and you and Lisa would be the answer to Ed Abbey's dreams.

 

It wasn't me. This is totally made up.

 

Well, too bad for Desert Ed.

It might make a good story if your intrepid explorers found an inhabited cliff dwelling of twenty-first century white/brown/black/yellow/red people. You'll recall that the sixties hippie/anarchists liked to think in some cases they were reincarnations of red people, and that some red people (shorthand for Native or First Nations) endorsed the idea. Also, there have been Rainbow Gatherings in the area -- see elsewhere on this site.
Or, check out the movie, 'Easy Rider'.

 

My favorite scene in "Easy Rider" is the "Wasn't Born to Follow" sequence by the Byrds.

It was filmed in Sunset Crater Nat'l Monument, just north of Flagstaff, and has good views of the volcano and a couple of shots of the San Francisco Peaks, one of the four Navajo sacred mountains.

Sunset Crater is adjacent to Wupatki Nat'l Monument, and the first time I ever saw Wupatki, we had driven all day down from Salt Lake to get there and arrived around midnight. The moon was full and we decided we couldn't wait till the next day to look at the Sinagua ruins, so we went on into the monument.

Let me tell you, those ruins are spooky by moonlight. After the first one, I said "that's enough for me, we'll come back in the morning."


Wasn't Born to Follow ...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M597-6lhKrg

 

"Kind of cute" ??? Interesting way to put it. A group of Scouts died in the Zion Narrows some years ago, as a result of a situation just like this. Their parents tried to sue the National Park Service, as I recall. I don't know what became of the suit, perhaps it's still pending.

 

Made up or not,I enjoyed it.I haven't been to the areas you describe,but I should before I go to the big roof in the sky.

 

Keet Seel is definitely worth the trip, if you like that sort of thing at all. You need a reservation with the Park Service to go out there, and the slots are extremely limited. There's a ranger at the site 24/7. As I recall, it's about 17-18 miles round trip, with a 1000-ft climb out of the canyon ... doable in one day if you're fairly hardcore, but most people camp near the ruin and make a two-day trip. You can also rent horses and have a Navajo guide take you there, if you prefer.

 

Thanks.

 

Condescension seems to be his forté.

 

Lighten up! No condescension here. I like Caliente's work.

 

Chick Ralston began having the recurring dreams around the time she moved to Flagstaff, Arizona to take a job with the state Antiquities Commission. It was a stroke of luck that she got the job in the first place, even more that she kept it ... The state was laying off people left and right as the downturn kept tourists home and tax receipts down, and politicians were forced to scramble even harder than usual to decide which lobbies to climb into the back pocket of.

[Watch redundancy. She was lucky to keep the job because revenues are down—no need to re-state the obvious. Layoffs are implied by the rest of the paragraph. Respect the intelligence of the reader]


[Her] work involved overseeing archeological sites in the district, checking for vandalism and lost Scouts, even investigating the occasional illegal pothunter, though she joked that the job was really more like getting paid to take a hike.

[this sentence runs on. Drop a comma and throw in a period]


Once or twice a week, she strapped on a pack, made sure her government issue two-way radio was charged, and slogged deep into a canyon somewhere to an Anasazi ruin site, of which there are dozens in northern Arizona. Most of the time, she went alone. It was hot, lonely work, and you never knew when a fat, grumpy Western Diamondback was going to make a mess of your whole day. She absolutely loved it.

[an interesting fact—but it adds nothing to the story. If anything, it takes power from the event. “So does this happen at all the other ruins, too?”]

After working at District for a few months, she decided to move to the tiny town of Hamblin and make it her secondary headquarters. The location was more convenient to the major ruins, and besides, while Flag was a pleasant enough place to live, the bustle and traffic there were enough to drive a country girl crazy. Nobody ever seemed to know where all those people came from, but Milton Avenue, the main drag through the heart of Flagstaff, was as non-stop congested as a Los Angeles freeway. Ducking it out with other motorists for 30 minutes just to get to Safeway grew tiresome, especially coming after the silence and solitude of her canyons.

[Restate the characters name—not just she. “she” is whoever. This is a story about Chick]

The first person she met in Hamblin was Carole Johnson, who seemed to function as the unofficial town greeter. Carole had not long ago divorced some famous baseball player who played for the Phoenix team, after which she gave up her city life and moved to Hamblin. Chick several times saw her riding horseback across the sagebrush flats to neighboring homesteads, where she traded paperback novels with the ranch wives.

[Don’t refer to two different characters by the same name (she) in the same paragraph. ]

"You'll love it here," Carole had told her. "But don't necessarily believe everything folks tell you. They love to prank newcomers. It's one of their long-held cowboy traditions."

Compared to Phoenix or even Flagstaff, Hamblin was a one-traffic-light backwater where nothing much ever happened, but at this stage in her life it suited Chick just fine, and if the ranchers there were walking, talking testaments to small-town provincialism, they were also the kind of neighbors who would hustle over in the middle of the night to help fix your barn roof after it blew off in the latest windstorm.

[actually, I like this. But it’s a bad habit to write paragraphs that consist of a sentence five lines long. Let the reader stop for a breath.]

The recurring dreams seemed to take sharper focus after she moved to Hamblin, as if the town and surrounding high desert gradually infiltrated her subconscious. The dreams came randomly, every few months or so, and she called them her "magic stream dreams", because in them she was almost always wading in a small stream that ran through a quiet meadow somewhere high in the mountains above Flagstaff.

[period. Not because.]

It was no ordinary stream, however. The crystalline water that ran dreamily through the meadow was enchanted, magical. It glistened like diamonds in the sun and had special healing and recuperative powers for physical ailments, yes, but it went beyond the physical. If she was upset or unhappy, she could take off her clothes, slip into the cool, sweet water and her troubles would wondrously be lifted away. In the desert, water is the secret of life, and it was as if the magic water of the stream held the secret of life for her as well.

[un-necessary transition. Concise sentences are called for, otherwise, you’re diluting the impact.]

The stream dreams were so vivid and so convincing that over time she came to make no particular distinction between them and her waking life. She accepted the existence of the magic stream as readily as she accepted night following day. Whenever she was stressed or in the dumps, she could count on a magic stream dream to revive her.

[What was her name again?]

* * * * *

The phone rang. Chick's friend Lisa was excited about an assignment she’d just received to begin a new study of sedimentary layering around the Keet Seel ruin. Somebody had uncovered evidence earlier in the year that certain rare minerals found in the tiny, remote canyon where the ruin was located had been deposited at precisely the same time the dwellings were being abandoned by the Anasazi people, some 700 years ago. If true, it was a coincidence too propitious to ignore, and the University of Arizona, where Lisa was a post doc, was eager to investigate. Any time there was a possibility of adding another piece to the puzzle of why the Anasazi had abruptly vacated the area all those centuries ago, it was enough to cause a stir amongst the academics.

[use the story to make me feel the friendship between Lisa and Chick. Don’t label it.]

Chick recognized the significance of Lisa’s assignment, but she also knew it wouldn’t be easy. Keet Seel was part of the Navajo National Monument, located in a distant and otherwise nondescript side canyon of the rugged Tsegi Canyon system, and it was a long, hot hike to get out there. The Park Service maintained a tiny cabin at the ruin for the ranger, but there were no other services and whoever did the studies would likely have to camp for weeks at a time in the blazing Arizona summer.

"Wow. Should be good fun, chica," Chick said, duly impressed. "How did they happen to pick you?"

"Umm ... no doubt it was in sterling recognition of my vast geological skill set."

Chick snickered. "In other words, they couldn't get anyone else to do it?"

"You got it."

Lisa went on to explained that, her skill set notwithstanding, she actually hadn’t a clue about this Keet Seel place and What she needed was a guide to take her there and show her around. Could Chick do it?

"Could I? You bet your ass, girl. I love Keet Seel, and it's been too damn long since I've been out there. When do we leave?"
---------------

The rest of my crit would be redundant.

Points:

Give the reader more credit. Don’t state that which is implied.

Kill run on sentences. Don’t use transitional phrases when a period will suffice.

State the character’s name at least once per paragraph.


Of course, there are always exceptions.
--------------------------

The content is great; just keep refining you sense of drama.

The characters are good, but a little flat. A touch of irrelevant personality is called for, i.e.,

“Lisa flopped herself down on a rock, took off her boots [with the day glow laces] , and gazed back out over the canyon.”

Lisa must be that particular Lisa, not a generic Lisa.
-------
I'm not suggesting a rewrite. Just things to incoporate into your voice for next time.
You have a hint of a unique voice; bring it out.

 

Gecko' I'd like to disagree on several points of your critique.

[Caliente]Chick Ralston began having the recurring dreams around the time she moved to Flagstaff, Arizona to take a job with the state Antiquities Commission. It was a stroke of luck that she got the job in the first place, even more that she kept it ... The state was laying off people left and right as the downturn kept tourists home and tax receipts down, and politicians were forced to scramble even harder than usual to decide which lobbies to climb into the back pocket of.[Caliente]

[geckopelli][Watch redundancy. She was lucky to keep the job because revenues are down—no need to re-state the obvious. Layoffs are implied by the rest of the paragraph. Respect the intelligence of the reader][geckopelli]


[Caliente][Her] work involved overseeing archeological sites in the district, checking for vandalism and lost Scouts, even investigating the occasional illegal pothunter, though she joked that the job was really more like getting paid to take a hike.[Caliente]

[geckopelli][this sentence runs on. Drop a comma and throw in a period][geckopelli]

On both these accounts, I think rhythm is more important
When I read these I don't get redundancy or run-on sentence.
I get rhythm of pleasing meter and length.



[Caliente]Once or twice a week, she strapped on a pack, made sure her government issue two-way radio was charged, and slogged deep into a canyon somewhere to an Anasazi ruin site, of which there are dozens in northern Arizona. Most of the time, she went alone. It was hot, lonely work, and you never knew when a fat, grumpy Western Diamondback was going to make a mess of your whole day. She absolutely loved it.[Caliente]

[geckopelli][an interesting fact—but it adds nothing to the story. If anything, it takes power from the event. “So does this happen at all the other ruins, too?”][geckopelli]

I don't think is any detraction from the story at all.
I think it lets the reader know that although this is a work of fiction, the author has a view of this subject beyond just a story device, and it may spurn the uninformed reader to investigate further the very real mystery of those ruins.

ZW

 

I can't disagree.

But it's not a poem, and it's not a travel brochure.

Stories are about people, not places or events.

These characters are heading into a high tension situation-- and they're bringing the reader with them. It's up to the author to make the reader feel the character. In this case, by foucusing on the characters now, the reader is drawn into Chick's world more exclusively, just as Chick is about to have her focus narrowed by the possibility of immiment death.

Further, the story has a quality of abruptness that is diluted by long rambling sentences.

And this is a short story. The reader needs to be in Chick's head, and once there, foucus must be maintained. There's no time for irrelevancies (much less distractions) that do not progress the story (That's what novels are for!).

If this were a novel, then it would be appropriate to include mention of ruins all over as part of the vaster backdrop.
As it is, if the reader's curiosity is raised, then they'll look up the place referenced-- and that will lead to ruins all over Ariz.
------------
I have to say, the short story is, perhaps, the most difficult form of prose to write. There just isn't time.

Succinct is the watch word.

 

I certainly won't disagree with that!

BTW, How's the film coming?


ZW

 

"Once Upon A Time In Hollywood" got me a chance to write a short on assignment, (to prove I can handle the pressure.)
If the short is good enough (it will be), I move on to a feature. 3 years tops-- you'll see Story and Screenplay by K.
Maybe the short at sundance in '11.

I'm loving life right now! Keifer Sutherland got me drunk a couple of weeks ago!
I LOVE LA!!!

 

Cool man, good luck on that!


Oh, and take it easy on the "Hollyweed" eh?

ZW

 

Thank you for your critique. I agree with a lot of what you've said. At various places, this piece wasn't sure whether it was a story or an essay. This has been a weakness of my fiction in general, and something that I've been working on.

I will take your comments about characterization to heart. I too thought the characters in this story to be somewhat flat. As you say, stories are about people. I'm actually rather new to fiction, and that's been the most difficult aspect of it for me.

In my opinion, your points about sentence structure might be more debatable. Pacing and rhythm are important, as Zombie pointed out, and they also contribute to the overall tone of the piece. Of the examples you mention, I would disagree with perhaps half of them. But I will pay stricter attention to this in the future.

To me, pacing and rhythm are a matter of feel. How does such-and-such paragraph feel? How does it fit with the paragraphs around it? That's what goes into decisions about sentence length and whatnot. But it's also very subjective. One man's smooth rhythm might be another man's run-on sentence. But the fact that we're talking about this shows how important it is. As I say, I'll give it more thought in the future.

I agree. I also think development of that tension is as important as development of the characters. They feed off each other.

Definitely true enough, but I've been thinking that there's been something missing from these pieces, and therefore they actually needed more. Stories should be "short enough to be interesting, long enough to cover the subject", as someone once said.

I appreciate your taking the time to write. Thanks again

 

Glad to hear things are going well,K.

 

Norman Mailer did quite well with run-on sentences, as in Of a Fire On the Moon. Mailer was also a master writer. Certainly I'm not in his league, and I consider it safer and more understandable to keep things short. It worked for Hemingway. The reader shouldn't have to go back over the sentence and parse out subject, verb and preposition to find out what the hell it means.