So this is a different type of blog. For my professional writing and journalism course I'm enrolled in, I've been writing a novel. It's taken some time but I'm slowly progessing with it. So I thought that this would be a good place to paste some of it, bit by bit, and get some feedback. The chapters are anywhere from 8-13 pages each so I'll paste them in parts.
If I get horrible or poor feedback, then I won't do it again. Simple.
Anyway, the book is called 'The Drug Trial' and the following is the first half of the first chapter.
Let me know what you think. Cheers guys.
Chapter One (Part 1):
Noah Kimber had passed Chemistry with flying colours in High School. He had never quite grasped English, and barely passed politics. He had known a few girls on a minor personal level but never knew how to communicate with them without feeling nervous. Except for one girl. One different, understanding girl.
However in Chemistry and Biology, he always hit the metaphorical nail on its head. He had always found himself analysing things, deliberately giving them problems just so he could find a solution.
The doctors called it Asperger’s Syndrome.
He looked like a normal child at the age of six. Dark brown hair, average height, slim build and deep-blue eyes. The sort of deep-blue that gained fascination and felt as though it could see right through you.
His parents thought he was just a stubborn, ill-tempered child, but shy.
Sitting in front of the computer for hours, practically immovable. Only ever interested in objects and patterns, never people and actions.
He stored and recalled information very well without trying. Names, facts, faces, even pictures. It was one Noah’s ‘special qualities’.
It wasn’t until the age of eight that Noah’s parents decided that something might be wrong with him, or at least ‘different’.
After months of testing, interviews and observation, Noah was clinically diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome. Noah’s parents were relieved when they were told that it was quite manageable and that it was towards the less-severe end of the autism spectrum.
Noah had learnt over time to deal with his Asperger’s. By fifteen, he had made significant progress in managing his symptoms and emotions, or lack there-of.
He would use a ‘rational’ scale in his head to figure out what was socially acceptable in the current situation. It took years to learn and develop this system of methodology and sensibility. It did not come easy to him. But his dad would help him, every night, by presenting an unknown situation, and then ask him ‘Now, how would you react Noah?’ Noah almost never got it correct on the first attempt, but his mind worked like a memory vault, and he was able to recall the correct answer the next time the same question was asked.
He could also tell whether a person was lying from their body language. It was another one of Noah’s ‘special qualities’. He would look for signs like avoiding eye contact, a liar placing an object between him/herself and the accusing; a statement of unnecessary conciseness and emphasis of language (eg. “I did not do it” instead of “I didn’t do it” is less likely to be truthful), lack of or over-stating detail, looking up and to the left, indicating ‘imaginative processing’. Noah felt like a detective when he did this.
By the end of VCE, Noah had become very talented at hiding, or at least masking the signs of his Asperger’s. People finding out only caused questions and uncomfortable communication between himself and others, and this was something Noah could never get over. He could never put the uncomfortable feeling behind him. But at home he was able to relax, be himself, let his guard down and continue his precise routine, night after night.
It had been four years since he completed his VCE and he had lost track of his path in life. Still the same old brown haired, blue eyed, thinly built Noah but nowhere to go. All things seemed to lead to a dead end in the future. Career. Relationships. Everything. Noah had lost his footing and didn’t know how to get back up and walk. He needed to find something. Anything that would want to make him get out of bed in the morning.
He had recently seen this show on Foxtel. Crime Busters (Noah spent a lot of his spare time watching the discovery channel. There was always something interesting on). The show was about drug dealers. The underworld. Shady operations and how a deal went down. It amazed him at just how specific an entire operation had to be. Any communication was minimal between parties, but had all the information that needed to be exchanged. Noah liked this particular show because he could easily recognise the chemistry behind the drugs. Methylamine. Carbon. Methamphetamines.
Back in high school, everyone was taught the standard ‘Don’t Do Drugs Kids’ philosophy, but he never really payed attention. He knew drugs were bad. Everyone did. But everyone tried them at least once. Even Noah had. Crack. It was back in year eleven with the few mates he actually had. He wouldn’t dare do it at home. It was too much of a risk with his mother always being around.
He could remember the ice-cold chill racing through the veins in his right arm, up towards his neck, as it was injected. Then waiting, anxiously... Ecstasy. Everything was beautiful. Colours made sounds. He felt like there was a two-foot thick cushion of cloud between him and the surface below his feet. It was amazing. While it lasted at least.
The crash came two hours later, hard. He suddenly became depressed. All worldly events, close or far to him weren’t worth their hassle. Everything seemed closer to its demise. He hated that feeling. He had fallen asleep, and wasn’t able to be woken until lunchtime the next day.
The sadness pressed upon him back then he loathed. But the ecstasy. The escape from reality. He loved that. It seemed to outweigh any negative side effects the drugs had created.