Again, thank you both for your comments.
uc pseudonym wrote:Heh. Yes, I did particularly enjoy that. My favorite sentence is probably:
Like the average feral dog, your writing should have spunk, and bite.
Good. That line changed during revision, and I like to think that the current version is preferable to the original.
uc pseudonym wrote:Only one remains, and I have somewhat of an idea about it: does the main character lash out at the end simply from the general store of irritation?
There is also the fact that when she first sees him, she thinks he may have been the one who yelled "Guy on the floor," which is part of what irritated her in the first place. But the reason she says what she does instead of something more polite (or nothing) is due to her general irritation, yes.
Anna Mae wrote:It just hit me that there will be no more to "Maintainance." That makes me vaguely sad.
Hm. I suppose it does have a somewhat inconclusive feel. Although it was written to be a stand-alone piece, I had actually been toying with the idea of including it in some broader collection of vignettes. If I do that, however, it probably won't be any time in the near future.
Unlike the previous two pieces, which I consider pretty much finished, the following story is still in progress; it has been revised, but I will most likely revise it at least once more before I consider it truly finished. So, if you have any suggestions on how I could improve the piece, those would be very welcome.
As another note, this story comes far closer to my vision of what a Christian writer ought to be doing than either of the other two, which is part of the reason I saved it for last.
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In Praise of Winter
When I think back to that time, I most vividly remember weariness and hunger—and the infernal cold. After some weeks of traveling across the vast northern fields of ice and snow, our expedition had finally arrived at a tiny village in the middle of the frozen tundra. At this northern latitude, the winter nights set in early; already the light was beginning to dim, and our shadows lengthened as the sun approached the horizon. We came to a stop in the center of the village, my companions and I, and passers-by began to gather around us, asking who we were and why we had come so far over the ice in the middle of winter. The first curious bystanders fetched their neighbors, who then informed all their kin, and soon we were surrounded by a crowd of strange people, both shorter and darker than our own race, with brown skin and darker brown eyes. There were whisperings among the women and children: “See how pale they are, and how they shiver in the wind!â€