Brian MacLearn's Blog - Posts Tagged "bullying"
Ridicule nearing completion
"Ridicule" is now going through its third editing. After I finish, I will be looking for beta readers to judge the flow and consistency of the story. This project has been interesting to say the least. "Ridicule" wasn't the book I had originally planned to start after I'd finished writing "Remember Me."
If I had to liken "Ridicule" to another story, it would be Dean Koontz's "The Husband." The more the story unfolds, the more intense it becomes, and the more we learn that not all is what it seems. I believe in writing stories about average people who rise to face the challenges put forth before them. In "Ridicule," that is exactly what the main character, Jeff Peyton, must do or the people he loves will die.
People always wonder where I come up with my ideas. Coming up with ideas isn't a problem. I have too many to write and not enough life left to accomplish writing them all. If only I hadn't procrastinated for the last twenty years… As far as "Ridicule" is concerned, the idea came to me as I listened to a radio broadcast about bullying. The stories about spousal abuse have been written many times. I wanted to take the playground bully, along with his victim, and then jump ahead twenty years to show what might happen if they were still connected. When you are twelve and face the bully, a punch to the nose will usually end the torment. But, what if the bully is thirty-five years old, and he's now your boss, and he's been controlling you for the last twenty years.
I believe that we all have a hero inside of us. Sometimes we have to force them to the surface, and sometimes they are pulled, screaming from within us. "Ridicule" is a fast-paced novel of suspense and surprises. What and who would you be willing to sacrifice to gain your freedom.
If I had to liken "Ridicule" to another story, it would be Dean Koontz's "The Husband." The more the story unfolds, the more intense it becomes, and the more we learn that not all is what it seems. I believe in writing stories about average people who rise to face the challenges put forth before them. In "Ridicule," that is exactly what the main character, Jeff Peyton, must do or the people he loves will die.
People always wonder where I come up with my ideas. Coming up with ideas isn't a problem. I have too many to write and not enough life left to accomplish writing them all. If only I hadn't procrastinated for the last twenty years… As far as "Ridicule" is concerned, the idea came to me as I listened to a radio broadcast about bullying. The stories about spousal abuse have been written many times. I wanted to take the playground bully, along with his victim, and then jump ahead twenty years to show what might happen if they were still connected. When you are twelve and face the bully, a punch to the nose will usually end the torment. But, what if the bully is thirty-five years old, and he's now your boss, and he's been controlling you for the last twenty years.
I believe that we all have a hero inside of us. Sometimes we have to force them to the surface, and sometimes they are pulled, screaming from within us. "Ridicule" is a fast-paced novel of suspense and surprises. What and who would you be willing to sacrifice to gain your freedom.
"Ridicule" 5 star review
This is the first review of "Ridicule."
Ridicule
Rating: 5.0 stars
Reviewed by Alice Recker for Readers' Favorite
“Ridicule,” written by Brian L. MacLearn, is the story of Jeffrey Peyton who is the victim of a bully while in Middle School. The anguish begins when Jeffrey creates an apparatus to ward off garden pests that like to gnaw on young seedlings. The tormentor doesn’t leave him alone, pitting everyone close to Jeffrey against him, until relief arrives while Jeffrey spends time in college. To Jeffrey’s chagrin and dismay, he finds that his aggressor has found him once again and secures a job at the same place where Jeffrey works. Matt feigns friendship and though Jeffrey is wary of him, he is too weak to resist Matt Sinclair’s hold on him. Eventually, Matt forms his own company. Knowing he has no talent for invention himself, he invites Jeffrey to join him and promises a partnership in patenting and promoting his earlier invention. The hold Matt has on Jeffrey is like a vise held so that the object can be worked on.
The book “Ridicule” is well-written. Brian L. MacLearn takes the reader on a painful journey from experiences received from the hands of a bully that extend well beyond childhood. Breathless throughout the narrative, one is led through well-described actions and characters that cause the reader to place all trust and faith in the victim. This saga is surprising with twists and turns throughout. “Ridicule” sweeps us into the heart of long-lasting effects of childhood traumas at the hands of bullies. It is a story of survival, in spite of all odds, of the main character. MacLearn writes in a way that makes his point clear while the story flows easily from one segment to the next. This is a book I hope to see published soon.
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The following are optional personal comments from the reviewer that will NOT appear in your review:
This is a story well-written and hard to put down. I liked the way you portrayed the effects of bullying that extend well beyond the schoolyard playground. Your protagonist had to win or else in my mind as I read it!
Ridicule
Rating: 5.0 stars
Reviewed by Alice Recker for Readers' Favorite
“Ridicule,” written by Brian L. MacLearn, is the story of Jeffrey Peyton who is the victim of a bully while in Middle School. The anguish begins when Jeffrey creates an apparatus to ward off garden pests that like to gnaw on young seedlings. The tormentor doesn’t leave him alone, pitting everyone close to Jeffrey against him, until relief arrives while Jeffrey spends time in college. To Jeffrey’s chagrin and dismay, he finds that his aggressor has found him once again and secures a job at the same place where Jeffrey works. Matt feigns friendship and though Jeffrey is wary of him, he is too weak to resist Matt Sinclair’s hold on him. Eventually, Matt forms his own company. Knowing he has no talent for invention himself, he invites Jeffrey to join him and promises a partnership in patenting and promoting his earlier invention. The hold Matt has on Jeffrey is like a vise held so that the object can be worked on.
The book “Ridicule” is well-written. Brian L. MacLearn takes the reader on a painful journey from experiences received from the hands of a bully that extend well beyond childhood. Breathless throughout the narrative, one is led through well-described actions and characters that cause the reader to place all trust and faith in the victim. This saga is surprising with twists and turns throughout. “Ridicule” sweeps us into the heart of long-lasting effects of childhood traumas at the hands of bullies. It is a story of survival, in spite of all odds, of the main character. MacLearn writes in a way that makes his point clear while the story flows easily from one segment to the next. This is a book I hope to see published soon.
-------------------
The following are optional personal comments from the reviewer that will NOT appear in your review:
This is a story well-written and hard to put down. I liked the way you portrayed the effects of bullying that extend well beyond the schoolyard playground. Your protagonist had to win or else in my mind as I read it!
Fresh eyes
I've finished the rewrite of "Against the Current." I could use a couple sets of fresh eyes to read the story and tell me what they like or didn't. If you have time this next week, send me a message to find out more. After this, it's off to the editor for final cleanup. Thanks!
"Against the Current" 1st chapter
Chapter 1: All Things Must End
The two men stood facing each other. The lights of the bridge spanning the Black Hawk River gave off a dull illumination at best, not enough for either man to see the other's eyes clearly, despite standing mere feet apart. The sound of the river rushing around the footings of the bridge created a vibration, which in turn, produced a low humming sound much like a cacophony of tubas, spread out across the bridge, playing the same low note.The early summer night was moist with the humidity of the recent weather front passing through Mt Clarkton. Iowa's weather was stuck in a pattern of rain, causing the river that divided the town to push the banks to overflow.
The game between them had been played, and the rest of the pieces sacrificed, leaving only the two of them left. Exhaustion and pain being negated by the adrenaline controlling their basic instincts to conclude the game they'd been playing most of their lives. There had been too many years of conflicted and pent-up emotions eating the spirit away inside the smaller man. The larger man was obsessed with the absolute need to control the smaller man. He must put an end to the uprising and break the last remaining seed of hope in the smaller man.
The bigger man howled with a savage rage at the smaller man, his voice carrying across the river. All semblance of rational thinking was gone. The only thing that mattered was showing the smaller man who held the power, even if it meant killing him. The smaller man stood his ground. Twenty-five years of having his arms pinned behind his back and his face shoved in the dirt was going to end, one way or another. No longer afraid of the bigger man, he was ready to finish what he had started. There would be no more backing into a corner, no more worrying about the costs and the losses. It was time to do what should have been done all those years ago; take down the bully.
The smaller man treaded lightly in preparation of the attack, stepping back and onto the bridge's sidewalk. His eyes never left the bigger man's chest. His life depended on making the right assumption, and the bigger man's chest couldn't belie his true intentions. This would be his last move of the game, win or lose. The larger man charged, screaming at the top of his lungs. The smaller man's own battle cry joined in response. His cry, a piercing determination to end a lifetime of ridicule, erupted from him like a dormant volcano exploding without warning. Neither of them heard the panicked cry of another. They were long past knowing anything other than the moment at hand, the silent understanding that only one, or neither, would survive the end of the game.
The two men stood facing each other. The lights of the bridge spanning the Black Hawk River gave off a dull illumination at best, not enough for either man to see the other's eyes clearly, despite standing mere feet apart. The sound of the river rushing around the footings of the bridge created a vibration, which in turn, produced a low humming sound much like a cacophony of tubas, spread out across the bridge, playing the same low note.The early summer night was moist with the humidity of the recent weather front passing through Mt Clarkton. Iowa's weather was stuck in a pattern of rain, causing the river that divided the town to push the banks to overflow.
The game between them had been played, and the rest of the pieces sacrificed, leaving only the two of them left. Exhaustion and pain being negated by the adrenaline controlling their basic instincts to conclude the game they'd been playing most of their lives. There had been too many years of conflicted and pent-up emotions eating the spirit away inside the smaller man. The larger man was obsessed with the absolute need to control the smaller man. He must put an end to the uprising and break the last remaining seed of hope in the smaller man.
The bigger man howled with a savage rage at the smaller man, his voice carrying across the river. All semblance of rational thinking was gone. The only thing that mattered was showing the smaller man who held the power, even if it meant killing him. The smaller man stood his ground. Twenty-five years of having his arms pinned behind his back and his face shoved in the dirt was going to end, one way or another. No longer afraid of the bigger man, he was ready to finish what he had started. There would be no more backing into a corner, no more worrying about the costs and the losses. It was time to do what should have been done all those years ago; take down the bully.
The smaller man treaded lightly in preparation of the attack, stepping back and onto the bridge's sidewalk. His eyes never left the bigger man's chest. His life depended on making the right assumption, and the bigger man's chest couldn't belie his true intentions. This would be his last move of the game, win or lose. The larger man charged, screaming at the top of his lungs. The smaller man's own battle cry joined in response. His cry, a piercing determination to end a lifetime of ridicule, erupted from him like a dormant volcano exploding without warning. Neither of them heard the panicked cry of another. They were long past knowing anything other than the moment at hand, the silent understanding that only one, or neither, would survive the end of the game.
