Fibbin' Archie 3

                                                                  

3

Damn, damn, damn!

Fibbin' Archie 2

                                                      

2

Double damn.

Fibbin’ Archie as an experiment

                                                                      

 

I have wondered for some time about the presence of the Golden Segment in literature. Those of us who like literature certainly recognise that stories presented in literary form have a shape that includes a beginning, a middle that follows certain conventions, but not too strictly, and an end. If these are out of balance we notice. But is this a learned response or is it natural?

The presence of the Fibonacci series in nature tends to suggest that we are dealing with something natural here. This series of numbers can be traced in the patterns of sunflower seeds, in rabbits breeding and in branch formation in plants and trees, to give just a handful of examples. In this experiment I have set out to work with this series. One might sub-title this novel “Writing by Numbers”. The first chapter is one word long, the final one is 28,657. I have labelled each chapter simply by the number in the series it represents.

In doing this I’ve not completely ruled out my normal way of planning fiction. Distilled from various story theories I find work for me, and in particular that of Robert McKee, the shape I favour is:

Inciting incident

Growing complexities (usually three)

Crisis

Climax (This is actually the gap between the crisis and the resolution and generally where all the excitement is. From this point onwards life can never be quite the same again for the protagonist, however the story resolves. Everything up to now was a rehearsal for this big moment.)     

Resolution

A more complex novel – and Fibbin’ Archie is complex – will have sub plots. How sub plots relate to the main plot is also to do with the Golden Segment. Andrew Melrose identifies a plot pyramid in Write For Children and I build upon that work in Writing for Young Adults.      

The Fibonacci series anyway produces the Golden Segment. We see this in the ratio of any two adjacent numbers in the series to their sum. That is there in the formula described above. There are echoes of it in the three act structure and the five act structure from the world of film and television and the slightly different version of this in stage play.

This is how I worked the mathematics out for Archie.

1,597	4,180				Inciting incident
2,584	6,764
4,181	10,945				1
6,765	17,710				2
10,946	28,656				3
17,711	46,367				60019 crisis
28,657	75,024		End

 

Note that the crisis point happens at about word 60019.  So there is a build up to it and then we come back down to the resolution. Once I reached word 46,368 I knew I had to make the stakes higher. 

Christopher Vogler suggests that sometimes we can follow a formula too rigidly. He identified what works for the film industry and based his suggestions for story on Joseph Campbell’s work. Vogler suggests that it is often more satisfying for the consumer when that formula is skewed slightly. The formula is skewed slightly in Archie. Content spills round the edges of word count. It could be, perhaps that numbers aren’t accurate enough to pinpoint exactly when events need to occur. What I have stuck to rigidly here is the word count per section, and then shaped the content to the section.   

At the end of the book I’ll be giving you some more information about what it was like writing this way. I welcome commentary on this project and for once this is a book I don’t mind you giving away for free; the more people who read it the better. By all means put the usual reviews on Amazon and Good reads, good or bad. I’d also welcome direct commentary which I’ll like to publish verbatim or collated in summary if there is a huge response. Please send your comments to g.james1@slaford.ac.uk.

Thank you for taking the time to read Fibbin’ Archie.

You must have noticed the pun by now. It is, of course, deliberate.                      

                   

   

1

Damn!

A Gallery for Nick Chapter 5

                                                        

 

When Barney arrived at Nick’s Mrs Fletcher was in the kitchen.

“Hello, Barney,” she said. “Will you stay for lunch?”

Barney hesitated. He really shouldn't stay more than an hour. He really did have to catch up with that geography course work.

Mrs Fletcher pushed her hair back and wiped her hands on her apron. Barney had never seen her look so harassed. Usually she was smartly dressed and nicely made up. But to-day she looked tired and grey.

“Only it’s just that I can’t get Nick to eat anything at the moment. I just thought if you were here…?”  Mrs Fletcher looked straight at him.  “Maybe just yoghurt or something? If you eat, he might join in.”

“Okay, Mrs Fletcher, of course, I will. Only I’ll have to ring Mum and ask if it’s all right.”

Barney heard the door along the corridor slam open.

“Barney, are you coming?" shouted Nick. "I’ve got something to show you.”

“You run along,” said Mrs Fletcher. She was smiling now. “I’ll square it with your mum.”

“Shut the door,” ordered Nick. “Come and look at this.” He swivelled round on his chair. His eyes were sparkling. There was another watercolour of the harbour on his desk. He had managed to get it out of the drawer himself!

“How…?” asked Barney.

“Easy!” said Nick. “Watch!”

Nick propelled the chair over to the drawer and wedged the arm of his chair underneath it. He pulled at the knob, tipped the chair away slightly and then placed his elbow in the drawer and slid the paper along. The paper tipped up just enough at the end that he could hold it between his finger and thumb. Resting it on his lap, he turned the  chair back towards the desk and raised his hands slightly until the paper was just balancing on the table top, then inched it on more firmly with his elbow.

“But the water?” asked Barney.

Nick grinned.

“I asked Mum for a drink of water. Out of a glass. I nearly choked, of course. She forgot all about it and left the glass here.”

Barney shook his head. What was he worrying about, when Nick had so much to put up with, but still managed to do what he wanted to?

“Come here. Come closer,” said Nick. “Take a really good look at this one.”

 Barney moved over to the desk.

“What am I looking for?” he asked.

“See there?” said Nick. “Right next to the boat with the yellow sails?”

“Yeah,” said Barney, still puzzled.  “What about it?”

“This!” cried Nick.

Barney felt something cold and wet on his cheek.

“What the heck?” he cried. He turned to see Nick with a huge grin on his face and holding the paint brush clenched tightly in his hand. Barney grabbed the other paint brush which was lying on the desk. It was covered with green paint. He jabbed at Nick’s face with it. Nick laughed out loud. Then he managed to get the red paint brush between his teeth and started dipping it in the glass and using it to flick water at Barney. Barney really found it difficult to keep out of Nick’s way, as Nick could turn his wheel chair in any direction he wanted. Besides, Barney was tired from the swim and had gone weak from laughing. Nick threw back his head and spat the paint brush out on to the floor. He laughed and screeched at the same time. Barney was laughing so hard there were tears coming from his eyes. The two boys looked at each other. Then the laughing started all over again.

“Well, I’m glad you two boys are having a good time,” called Mrs Fletcher. “I’m just bringing your lunch along now.”

Nick pointed to the painting with his head. The laughter had gone from his eyes. Barney could see that he was sweating.

"Go on then," he hissed. He started tapping his fingers nervously on the arm of his wheelchair. “Quick,” he whispered.

Barney hurried to put some clean kitchen paper over the picture.

“You look a mess,” mouthed Nick.

“You too,” replied Barney. Both boys started giggling again. Nick managed to get his voice under control.

“It’s all right, Mum,” he said. “Leave the tray outside. Barney’ll fetch it in a minute.”

“So what’s going on here then?” asked Mrs Fletcher, with just a touch of sharpness in her voice.

“We’re making a birthday present for you,” said Nick quickly. "And if you believe that, you'll believe anything," he added under his breath.

“Oh, I see,” said Mrs Fletcher. "Nothing like being well prepared."

"We've got to get it right, Mum, haven't we?"

 Barney thought Mrs Fletcher sounded relieved. He guessed she was glad Nick was enjoying himself. Then he caught sight of one of the green spots on Nick’s face and felt another giggle rising up.          

“Well, just make sure you both eat your lunch.”

“We will,” said Barney, forcing himself to keep his face straight for a few seconds.

Barney waited until he heard Mrs Fletcher close the kitchen door again. Then he sneaked into the bathroom and cleaned his face. He found Nick’s flannel and took it into his room to wipe him.

“I don’t want any of that crap,” said Nick suddenly, looking scornfully at the banana custard.

“Man, you’ve got to eat,” said Barney. Nick could be so stubborn sometimes. “Why don’t you want to eat?”

“‘Cause!” replied Nick, making his eyes go big and licking his lips. “‘Cause I’d rather have a steak!” 

Barney tried to imagine Nick eating a steak. He would never be able to chew it. He remembered when they left junior school. Nick wasn’t in a wheelchair then. There had been a barbecue at the Fletchers’ home to celebrate the boys’ move up to secondary school. Nick had had to walk with a frame, but at least he could still walk. And he had eaten steak straight from the grill. Suddenly Barney didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“You have them both. I’ll eat later,” said Nick. He spun his chair round so that he had his back to Barney.

“But ...”

“I just don’t like people watching me eat,” said Nick, his voice sounding husky. “Not even you, or Mum and Dad.”

Barney could tell Nick meant business. He was quite ravenous after the swim and the early start. It had been several hours since breakfast.

The boys didn’t speak while Barney ate. Mrs Fletcher came back half an hour later.

“Did you both enjoy that?” she asked looking meaningfully at Barney. Nick was staring straight at Barney. He seemed to be warning him.

“Oh, yes, Mrs Fletcher.  It was lovely,” said Barney. “Look, we’ve finished it all.”

“Thank you, Barney,” said Mrs Fletcher. She smiled. Barney knew she wasn’t just thanking him for the compliment about her cooking and felt himself go red.

“I want to go down to the harbour,” Nick suddenly announced.

“Well, I’m sure it's possible. I’m sure Barney won’t mind wheeling you down there. It’s a nice afternoon. Will that be all right?” Mrs Fletcher looked at Barney.

“Of course, Mrs Fletcher.” That was good-bye to the geography homework. But of course he would take Nick down to the harbour. How could he refuse?

A Gallery for Nick Chapter 4

                                                                      

 

Barney made his way towards Nick's house. Geoff had dropped him off near the centre of town. That meant a short walk along the High Street. It wasn't very far at all. He normally quite enjoyed a stroll through town. There would always be lots of people who looked as if they were enjoying themselves.

A notice in the window of the Pizzeria Giovanni caught his eye.

"Wanted," it read. "School boy or girl to wash up and clear tables, six hours a week. Flexible shifts available. Must have good references. Apply inside."

Perhaps this would be it, thought Barney. He’d wanted a part-time job for a while, but he'd never been able to find one that would fit in with his swimming sessions. And when he did find something that would work, they always asked him about what he did in his spare time. He would then tell them about Nick, and they would either say straight away then, or in a letter a few days later, that they would have liked to offer him the job, but that they thought he was already overburdened and probably wouldn't be all that reliable.

Perhaps it would be different here though. They said they wanted someone who could be flexible. Barney took a deep breath and went in. It was quiet inside. The tables were covered with red and green tablecloths, places were set and everything looked ready for lunch time. There was a strong smell of coffee and steam was coming out of the machine behind the counter. No-one around, though. Barney walked through the whole restaurant and still couldn't find anyone. He wondered whether he should give up the idea and just carry on to Nick's. It would probably be a waste of time in any case.

"Can I help you?" asked a voice with a slight foreign accent.

Barney turned round and saw a tall black haired man. He had quite dark skin. It was difficult to work out how old he was. Was this the person he needed?

"I've come about the job advertised in the window," he said, suddenly wishing he hadn't bothered.

"Ah, good, good," said the man. "Let's fill in the form. Come, come." He invited Barney to sit down at one of the tables. "Then you get the interview, yes?"

Barney suddenly felt a bit panicky. Maybe it would all be a bit too difficult.

"Will this take long?" asked Barney. "Only I've got to go and see my friend soon."

"Ah, the one in the wheelchair. I seen you with him. Poor one. What the matter with him?"

"Shall I just fill this form in?" asked Barney. He didn't want to have to explain about Nick.

"Yes, you do that. You want coffee? What your name? I am Giovanni. I own restaurant."

"I'm Barney," he replied. "No, no coffee thanks." 

He almost wished he hadn't bothered with this. The last thing he wanted was a cup of coffee. It would just make him feel sick. So, he set to filling in the application form. There were the usual questions. Name, age date of birth, the name of two referees, and then of course, what experience he’d had. He was about to put none. But then he remembered, he’d really had lots of practice at washing up at home. He'd often helped out in fact. Well, why shouldn't he put it down? He'd got nothing to lose, had he? Even if it didn't help him to get the job, it wouldn't actually stop him getting it would it? It might   just give him a chance, though. He finished putting all the details on the form and then read it through again.  

"You finished?" asked Giovanni. "You sure you no want coffee?"   

Barney was almost tempted now that he’d finished filling in the form, but he knew that if he stopped now he would be very late getting to Nick's.

"What else you do in spare time, apart from wheel that boy around?" asked Giovanni.

"Well, I swim," answered Barney. "Every day. I'm training for the county." Barney shuddered inside.  He thought he sounded as if he was boasting.

"Whew!" Giovanni whistled. "What a boy! I bet you won't find washing a few plates hard. But I have to ask Mrs Giovanni what she think first. She really the boss, you know."

"What will I have to do?" asked Barney. What did they mean by saying the work was flexible. "I mean, how often will I have to work? Can I choose when?"

"Yes," he continued. "We have two other boys and a girl working for us. As long as we have someone here every night between eight and eleven, that's alright. You sign up for which two nights you want to do every week. We try to have two people every Saturday."

"Sounds great," said Barney. He could really see himself doing this job.

"I let you know soon," said Giovanni. "Must ask the boss first. I got your address."

It was quite late now. High time he got to Nick's. But he had a feeling that he might be lucky this time.

The sun was in his eyes, making him blink. If it hadn't have been so cold it could have been spring. Barney felt quite pleased. He was sure something really good was about to happen.