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Feedback on my first chapter? #602913
05/13/11 12:43 PM
05/13/11 12:43 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
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FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
I'm still in the draft process but I want some opinions on it please.

Chapter One
"Fucking bastard," Bobby Schulman muttered as he seen known a drug dealer entering a black Benz, and watching it pull off. He quickly shrugged it off as he entered the New York Supreme Court.

The architecture of the Supreme Court never ceased to amaze Bobby. Being on the force for over 12 years, and he still got confused on where to go when entering this "puzzle house."

"You see Judge Clifford, Ernie?" Bobby asked, showing his NYPD credentials to the retired NYPD officer to his right.

"Yeah, he just acquitted that drug dealer, what's his name," Court officer Ernie Boyd replied; taking a sip of his cold coffee. "Best bet is he's in his chambers."

Bobby stopped at the small convenience store behind Ernie Boyd's post; buying a pack of Camel cigarettes, before making his way to the elevator. He observed as he walked, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman. 'Probably on jury duty' he thought, walking on to the elevator and pressing four.

It felt like forever due to the elevator stopping at every floor between one and four. He got off and made his way to the chambers.

Judge Theodore Roosevelt in gold inscripted letters read on the door. Knocking on the wood, he slowly opened the door. Judge Theodore Roosevelt, or Teddy as his friends known him, sat behind his desk smoking a half-finished cigarette, with Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" playing on his mini stereo system.

"Teddy, what's up?" Bobby asked, taking a seat across from the middle-aged man.

No matter how many times Bobby visited Teddy which was often, he never seemed to age though he was 53 years old.

Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602918
05/13/11 12:59 PM
05/13/11 12:59 PM
Joined: Jul 2001
Posts: 22,902
New York
SC Offline
Consigliere
SC  Offline
Consigliere

Joined: Jul 2001
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New York
clap

Good start!!

You make the cop believable already because most people will be able to relate to him.

The only thing I'd do differently is to add "Mercedes" to the word "Benz". The cop may be street enough to think that BUT you want the reader to know exactly what kind of car it was and some may not be familiar with just "Benz".

Beside that MINOR suggestion, you have a good page there. Keep it going.


.
Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602920
05/13/11 01:19 PM
05/13/11 01:19 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
I
FrankNitti91  Offline OP
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Wiseguy
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Thanks SC! Appreciate it, i'm at work on it as we speak. I want to base the Judge's looks on the assassinated mafia judge Antonio Scopelliti. What do you think?

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/5/55/Antonio_Scopelliti.jpg

Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602923
05/13/11 01:57 PM
05/13/11 01:57 PM
Joined: Feb 2003
Posts: 15,019
Texas
O
olivant Offline
olivant  Offline
O

Joined: Feb 2003
Posts: 15,019
Texas
"... he entered the New York Supreme Court [building]."

[Its architecture never ceased to amaze Bobby.]

"Being on the force for over 12 years, and he still got confused
[Although he had been on the force for 12 years, he]

(While the architecture might have amazed him, a reader would not expect such amazement to confuse him.)


"Generosity. That was my first mistake."
"Experience must be our only guide; reason may mislead us."
"Instagram is Twitter for people who can't read."
Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602925
05/13/11 02:05 PM
05/13/11 02:05 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
I
FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
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Thanks Olivant! I do like that better

Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602928
05/13/11 02:45 PM
05/13/11 02:45 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
I
FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
Chapter One
"Fucking bastard," Bobby Schulman muttered as he seen a known drug dealer entering a dark-tinted black Mercedes-Benz V124 limousine, and watching it pull off. He quickly shrugged it off as he entered the New York Supreme Court building.

Its architecture never ceased to amaze Bobby. Although he had been on the force for over 12 years, he still got confused on where to go when entering this "puzzle house."

"You see Judge Cohen, Ernie?" Bobby asked, showing his NYPD credentials to the retired NYPD officer to his right.

"Yeah, he just acquitted that drug dealer, what's his name," Court officer Ernie Boyd replied; taking a sip of his cold coffee. "Best bet is he's in his chambers."

Bobby stopped at the small convenience store behind Ernie Boyd's post; buying a pack of Camel cigarettes and a black coffee, before making his way to the elevator. He observed as he walked, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman. 'Probably on jury duty' he thought, walking on to the elevator and pressing four.

It felt like forever due to the elevator stopping at every floor between one and four. He got off and made his way to the chambers.

Judge Theodore Cohen in gold inscripted letters read on the door. Knocking on the wood, he slowly opened the door. Judge Theodore Cohen, or Teddy as his friends known him, sat behind his desk smoking a half-finished cigarette, with Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" playing on his mini stereo system.

"Teddy, what's up?" Bobby asked, taking a seat across from the middle-aged man.

No matter how many times Bobby visited Teddy which was often, he never seemed to age though he was 53 years old. Being on the bench for 11 years had taken its toll on Judge Teddy Cohen. His once attractive red hair that sparkled like the morning sun was slowly but surely turning white. Those blue eyes that dwelved deep into the hearts of young women in his former days, were now sunken in from the stress of high-profile cases he was taking on. Still all and all, he was still overly handsome, with his Roman nose.

Teddy put out his cigarette. "Hey, Bobby I woulda bet the house you would of been here earlier. What happened?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his head.

Bobby sighed. "Fucking traffic. So, he got off huh?" Bobby leaned in. "How the hell that happen? With a eye witness at that?" he asked.

"Sometimes the power is not in your hands, if you understand what I'm telling you, Bobby. On the stand, the witness got amnesia. Said it wasn't David Frazier she saw kill the other drug dealer." Teddy replied, throwing his hands up in a helpless manner.

Teddy got up and changed the song to Frank Sinatra's "That's Life", and sat back down. Bobby took out a cigarette from his Camel's pack, placing it between his lips, and lit it. "You want?" he asked Teddy.

Teddy shrugged no. "I only smoke Nat Sherman's," he said, picking up his pack for emphasis.

Bobby got up and walked over to the window to the left of Bobby's desk. Looking out, he pondered on his career. He was going through divorce proceedings and a child custody trial with his soon to be ex-wife Elaine. His main focus was on taking the Brooklyn Outfit, a criminal organization, down. Sincere Frazier, the Don of the Outfit, was his main target. It seemed like nothing could stick to the man, and he was now venturing into legitimate enterprises, while Bobby's life was whirling out of control.

"You know my unit doesn't even consider the Brooklyn Outfit a major target?" Bobby said. "The lieu want us to focus on the damn mob," he explained.

Teddy lit another Nat Sherman. "Isn't the mob bigger than these guys though?" he pondered.

Bobby dry laughed. "Yeah in the papers. This guy, Sincere Frazier has Brooklyn locked down with drugs, gambling, any vice you can think of, and he's moving into legit businesses nowadays. The fucking guy is just 28 years old, and I say he's worth millions. Not to mention the Sacrimoni crime family is backing the guy, due to "Remo" Salieri being his godfather and all, you believe that?" Bobby sat back down taking a few pulls off his cigarette.

"Frazier, Frazier, that name holds significant to me." Teddy said, trying to remember. "Is he in any way related to Tommy "Doc" Frazier?"

Bobby laughed. "Sincere is his son."

"My good friend, Judge Chambers, put that scumbag away for six consecutive life sentences back in 1978. This guy, Tommy, despite what he was, was a real classy guy. During the trial, he sent flower arrangement to Chambers, trying to bribe him," Teddy pulled off the cigarette. "I was ADA on the case. We estimated he raked in from $1-5 million a week from various criminal activities. He was tight with then rising star in the Sacrimoni family, Remo, or Frank as I knew him to be. That more than likely explains the Godfather connection."

Bobby put out his cigarette. "Yeah, Salieri is now next in line to become Boss," he said, enlightening him.

Teddy looked confused. "Remo's up in Lewisburg serving 9 years for labor racketeering, am I correct?"

"Yeah but he's up for parole in a couple of months. He be home before we know it," Bobby said, sighing.

"The OCCB unit your in doesn't have a detail dedicated to these Brooklyn Outfit fellas?" he asked.

"Nope, I stay stressing this to my Captain Al Linscott, but he just turns a blind eye. Doesn't think a black can amass the wealth of Italians," Bobby explained, taking his first sip of the now cold coffee.

Teddy stood up, followed by Bobby. "Your gonna get your wish, Bobby. I'm gonna speak to the police commissioner myself. Don't lose sleep over things that's not in your power."

Bobby grabbed Teddy's beige trench coat off the rack, helping Teddy into it. Teddy grabbed his pack of cigs, stuffing them into his inner coat pocket.

"Where you headed? I'll give you a lift," Bobby asked, cutting off the radio for him.

"Got a lodge meeting in Queens. Sure I won't take you out your way?" Teddy asked, putting on his coonskin cap that he cherished.

Bobby waved him off. "Come on Teddy, you know me better than that."

Teddy shut his window blinds, before putting his browline glasses on.

Bobby opened the door for Teddy, and cut the lights off, as he closed the door.

"What you got planned for Christmas, Bobby?" Teddy asked, as they walked down the empty hallway.

"I don't know, probably go see my parents in Rochester," he replied.

"Well, if you don't figure out what your doing come join my family and I for dinner, okay?" Teddy told him, pressing the elevator button.

Bobby nodded. He wasn't thinking about Christmas, he was thinking about slapping the cuffs on Sincere Frazier personally.

Last edited by FrankNitti91; 05/13/11 02:55 PM.
Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602929
05/13/11 02:45 PM
05/13/11 02:45 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
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FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
What do you think Gangsterbb.net family and friends?

Constructive Criticism? #602941
05/13/11 05:19 PM
05/13/11 05:19 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
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FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
Chapter One
"Fucking bastard," Bobby Schulman muttered as he seen a known drug dealer entering a dark-tinted black Mercedes-Benz V124 limousine, and watching it pull off. He quickly shrugged it off as he entered the New York Supreme Court building.

Its architecture never ceased to amaze Bobby. Although he had been on the force for over 12 years, he still got confused on where to go when entering this "puzzle house."

"You see Judge Cohen, Ernie?" Bobby asked, showing his NYPD credentials to the retired NYPD officer to his right.

"Yeah, he just acquitted that drug dealer, what's his name," Court officer Ernie Boyd replied; taking a sip of his cold coffee. "Best bet is he's in his chambers."

Bobby stopped at the small convenience store behind Ernie Boyd's post; buying a pack of Camel cigarettes and a black coffee, before making his way to the elevator. He observed as he walked, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman. 'Probably on jury duty' he thought, walking on to the elevator and pressing four.

It felt like forever due to the elevator stopping at every floor between one and four. He got off and made his way to the chambers.

Judge Theodore Cohen in gold inscripted letters read on the door. Knocking on the wood, he slowly opened the door. Judge Theodore Cohen, or Teddy as his friends known him, sat behind his desk smoking a half-finished cigarette, with Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" playing on his mini stereo system.

"Teddy, what's up?" Bobby asked, taking a seat across from the middle-aged man.

No matter how many times Bobby visited Teddy which was often, he never seemed to age though he was 53 years old. Being on the bench for 11 years had taken its toll on Judge Teddy Cohen. His once attractive red hair that sparkled like the morning sun was slowly but surely turning white. Those blue eyes that dwelved deep into the hearts of young women in his former days, were now sunken in from the stress of high-profile cases he was taking on. Still all and all, he was still overly handsome, with his Roman nose.

Teddy put out his cigarette. "Hey, Bobby I woulda bet the house you would of been here earlier. What happened?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his head.

Bobby sighed. "Fucking traffic. So, he got off huh?" Bobby leaned in. "How the hell that happen? With a eye witness at that?" he asked.

"Sometimes the power is not in your hands, if you understand what I'm telling you, Bobby. On the stand, the witness got amnesia. Said it wasn't David Frazier she saw kill the other drug dealer." Teddy replied, throwing his hands up in a helpless manner.

Teddy got up and changed the song to Frank Sinatra's "That's Life", and sat back down. Bobby took out a cigarette from his Camel's pack, placing it between his lips, and lit it. "You want?" he asked Teddy.

Teddy shrugged no. "I only smoke Nat Sherman's," he said, picking up his pack for emphasis.

Bobby got up and walked over to the window to the left of Bobby's desk. Looking out, he pondered on his career. He was going through divorce proceedings and a child custody trial with his soon to be ex-wife Elaine. His main focus was on taking the Brooklyn Outfit, a criminal organization, down. Sincere Frazier, the Don of the Outfit, was his main target. It seemed like nothing could stick to the man, and he was now venturing into legitimate enterprises, while Bobby's life was whirling out of control.

"You know my unit doesn't even consider the Brooklyn Outfit a major target?" Bobby said. "The lieu want us to focus on the damn mob," he explained.

Teddy lit another Nat Sherman. "Isn't the mob bigger than these guys though?" he pondered.

Bobby dry laughed. "Yeah in the papers. This guy, Sincere Frazier has Brooklyn locked down with drugs, gambling, any vice you can think of, and he's moving into legit businesses nowadays. The fucking guy is just 28 years old, and I say he's worth millions. Not to mention the Sacrimoni crime family is backing the guy, due to "Remo" Salieri being his godfather and all, you believe that?" Bobby sat back down taking a few pulls off his cigarette.

"Frazier, Frazier, that name holds significant to me." Teddy said, trying to remember. "Is he in any way related to Tommy "Doc" Frazier?"

Bobby laughed. "Sincere is his son."

"My good friend, Judge Chambers, put that scumbag away for six consecutive life sentences back in 1978. This guy, Tommy, despite what he was, was a real classy guy. During the trial, he sent flower arrangement to Chambers, trying to bribe him," Teddy pulled off the cigarette. "I was ADA on the case. We estimated he raked in from $1-5 million a week from various criminal activities. He was tight with then rising star in the Sacrimoni family, Remo, or Frank as I knew him to be. That more than likely explains the Godfather connection."

Bobby put out his cigarette. "Yeah, Salieri is now next in line to become Boss," he said, enlightening him.

Teddy looked confused. "Remo's up in Lewisburg serving 9 years for labor racketeering, am I correct?"

"Yeah but he's up for parole in a couple of months. He be home before we know it," Bobby said, sighing.

"The OCCB unit your in doesn't have a detail dedicated to these Brooklyn Outfit fellas?" he asked.

"Nope, I stay stressing this to my Captain Al Linscott, but he just turns a blind eye. Doesn't think a black can amass the wealth of Italians," Bobby explained, taking his first sip of the now cold coffee.

Teddy stood up, followed by Bobby. "Your gonna get your wish, Bobby. I'm gonna speak to the police commissioner myself. Don't lose sleep over things that's not in your power."

Bobby grabbed Teddy's beige trench coat off the rack, helping Teddy into it. Teddy grabbed his pack of cigs, stuffing them into his inner coat pocket.

"Where you headed? I'll give you a lift," Bobby asked, cutting off the radio for him.

"Got a lodge meeting in Queens. Sure I won't take you out your way?" Teddy asked, putting on his coonskin cap that he cherished.

Bobby waved him off. "Come on Teddy, you know me better than that."

Teddy shut his window blinds, before putting his browline glasses on.

Bobby opened the door for Teddy, and cut the lights off, as he closed the door.

"What you got planned for Christmas, Bobby?" Teddy asked, as they walked down the empty hallway.

"I don't know, probably go see my parents in Rochester," he replied.

"Well, if you don't figure out what your doing come join my family and I for dinner, okay?" Teddy told him, pressing the elevator button.

Bobby nodded. He wasn't thinking about Christmas, he was thinking about slapping the cuffs on Sincere Frazier personally.

Constructive Criticism Pt2? #602951
05/13/11 06:30 PM
05/13/11 06:30 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
I
FrankNitti91  Offline OP
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Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
I'm not done with this part of my chapter but I'm lost in this scene. Should I describe the way the characters of the scene look? Should I describe the apartment? Backstory? How to do it?


Lynn York Apartments
68 Myrtle Avenue, Irvington, New Jersey

James Frazier sat the serving tray, with three coffee cups of cappuccino, on the coffee table in his living room. He had planned on relaxing today but his obligations thought otherwise. Cutting off the television he sat down in the company of two of his closest friends: Roland "Rallo" Grant, and Raymond "Ray Butters" Lynwood."

What brought them all to Jimmy's lonely New Jersey apartment was treachery and greed.

"So, everything's set I'm guessing," Jimmy said, crossing his legs, watching but not watching the television set as a episode of "Cheers" played.

Raymond grabbed his cup, and slurped it, before putting it back down. "Yeah, all our guys are ready for tonight," he said.

Jimmy was a old-fashioned guy, and for good reason: he grew up during the sixties. He came up through the ranks with his older brother, Tommy. Serving 15 years in Sing Sing had humbled him down, from his mad dog behavior once upon a time. When coming home two years ago, 1988, he had expected to take over the Outfit, but his nephew Sincere spoiled those plans. He installed Jimmy as a soldier in Ray Butters crew. For that "disrespect" he despised his nephew and was planning on making his plans come to fruition.

"Jimmy, how much powder we going to be coming away with, with this caper?" Rallo asked, in the midst of rolling up some marijuana in cigar wrapping.

Jimmy shrugged. "I'm on the outside of our family operations, but a guess would be around 130 to 150 kilos of mixed coke and dope," he said. "But then again it's just a guess." He put his hand on Rallo's shoulder. "Were coming off with this caper, I assure you."

"Jim, we been friends since forever. I'm with you through thick and thin, but are you sure you want to do this?" Ray Butters asked.

Jimmy smirked. "Butters, were getting old. You don't think we deserve, matter fact fuck deserve, earned our way to the top of the totem pole," he sipped his cappuccino. "We made our bones coming up in the old days, you know this. We capped alot of guys on our way up, this the only way, Ray."

Raymond just nodded. "Then that's it. No turning back."

"Don't worry Ray, smile, while everything's going on; Charlie and his boys in Fort Greene are gonna be catching the heat. Not us," Jimmy said, as Rallo lit blunt.

The doorbell rang.

"Who the hell is that?" Ray asked.

"Our co-conspirators," Jimmy said, flashing that devilish grin. "Go get that Roland."

Rallo got up, blunt in hand, to answer the door. He opened the white door to see a smiling Charlie Hilman, hat in hand, with Dwayne Mason, a protege of Charlie's. Letting them in, he led the way to the living room.

"Charlie!" Jimmy exclaimed, springing to his feet to warmly embrace his old friend. "How you doing? How's the family?" he asked, sitting back down.

"Eh, I can't complain. Health is good, wife is greater," Charlie said, taking a seat. "Oh, this is Broadway, the one whose gonna be the captain of this ship tonight."

Broadway stretched his hand out, which Jimmy firmly clasped. "I see the fire in your eyes," Jimmy said, squinting into Broadway's eyes. "You got that fire in your eyes, that's a quality I admire, kid. Take a seat."

Broadway sat down.

Whenever one of youse guys or molls get a chance? #602970
05/13/11 10:53 PM
05/13/11 10:53 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
I
FrankNitti91  Offline OP
I
Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
Which points would be a good point to describe the home and the characters, and their background.

********************
Lynn York Apartments
68 Myrtle Avenue, Irvington, New Jersey

James Frazier sat the serving tray, with three coffee cups of cappuccino, on the coffee table in his living room. He had planned on relaxing today but his obligations thought otherwise. Cutting off the television he sat down in the company of two of his closest friends: Roland "Rallo" Grant, and Raymond "Ray Butters" Lynwood."

What brought them all to Jimmy's lonely New Jersey apartment was treachery and greed.

"So, everything's set I'm guessing," Jimmy said, crossing his legs, watching but not watching the television set as a episode of "Cheers" played.

Raymond grabbed his cup, and slurped it, before putting it back down. "Yeah, all our guys are ready for tonight," he said.

Jimmy was a old-fashioned guy, and for good reason: he grew up during the sixties. He came up through the ranks with his older brother, Tommy. Serving 15 years in Sing Sing had humbled him down, from his mad dog behavior once upon a time. When coming home two years ago, 1988, he had expected to take over the Outfit, but his nephew Sincere spoiled those plans. He installed Jimmy as a soldier in Ray Butters crew. For that "disrespect" he despised his nephew and was planning on making his plans come to fruition.

"Jimmy, how much powder we going to be coming away with, with this caper?" Rallo asked, in the midst of rolling up some marijuana in cigar wrapping.

Jimmy shrugged. "I'm on the outside of our family operations, but a guess would be around 130 to 150 kilos of mixed coke and dope," he said. "But then again it's just a guess." He put his hand on Rallo's shoulder. "Were coming off with this caper, I assure you."

"Jim, we been friends since forever. I'm with you through thick and thin, but are you sure you want to do this?" Ray Butters asked.

Jimmy smirked. "Butters, were getting old. You don't think we deserve, matter fact fuck deserve, earned our way to the top of the totem pole," he sipped his cappuccino. "We made our bones coming up in the old days, you know this. We capped alot of guys on our way up, this the only way, Ray."

Raymond just nodded. "Then that's it. No turning back."

"Don't worry Ray, smile, while everything's going on; Charlie and his boys in Fort Greene are gonna be catching the heat. Not us," Jimmy said, as Rallo lit blunt.

The doorbell rang.

"Who the hell is that?" Ray asked.

"Our co-conspirators," Jimmy said, flashing that devilish grin. "Go get that Roland."

Rallo got up, blunt in hand, to answer the door. He opened the white door to see a smiling Charlie Hilman, hat in one hand; cane in the other, with Dwayne Mason, a protege of his. Letting them in, he led the way to the living room.

"Charlie!" Jimmy exclaimed, springing to his feet to warmly embrace his old friend. "How you doing? How's the family?" he asked, sitting back down.

"Eh, I can't complain. Health is good, wife is greater," Charlie said, taking a seat. "Oh, this is Broadway, the one whose gonna be the captain of this ship tonight."

Broadway stretched his hand out, which Jimmy firmly clasped. "I see the fire in your eyes," Jimmy said, squinting into Broadway's eyes. "You got that fire in your eyes, that's a quality I admire, kid. Take a seat."

Broadway sat down.

Charlie Hilman was Tommy Frazier's friend-turned-backstabber from the old days. He got caught up in the FBI crackdowns of heroin distribution networks of the late 1970s-early 1980s. Being convicted of intent to sell to a undercover agent in 1981, he served five years in a federal prison.

He was quite the guy in his days, and still possessed that swag of his. Dreams of being the boss still was his wish; and teaming with his former rival was the best way to do it. The two of them were from the old-school and despised what was going on. Charlie knew he was particularly known to the NYPD throughout New York, so he decided to use his nephew Brian as the front boss.

Taking off his black Members Only jacket, to reveal a cream turtleneck, Broadway followed his lead.

Raymond returned from the bathroom. "Charlie, Dwayne, how you guys feeling today?" Ray walked over and shook their hands. His hands nearly encompassing Charlie's, he retired again to the kitchen, to bring back a bottle of Dom Perignon and flutes.

"What's the occasion, Ray?" Charlie asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Prosperity," he told him, using a corkscrew to open the champagne. "Dwayne, you got your crew springed into action for tonight?" Ray filled all five flutes on the coffee table.

Dwayne's muscular body leaned forward towards Ray. "Yeah, I'm using two young cats. They go by Kenevil and Crime, they just looking for a name, but I trained him well enough." Broadway answered, leaning back into the seat.

"Where you gonna be when all this going down?" Charlie asked Jimmy.

"Spending time with family," Jimmy said.

Re: Feedback on my first chapter? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602974
05/14/11 12:31 AM
05/14/11 12:31 AM
Joined: Jul 2001
Posts: 31,285
New Jersey, USA
J Geoff Offline
The Don
J Geoff  Offline
The Don

Joined: Jul 2001
Posts: 31,285
New Jersey, USA

I plan to add my 2 cents, but maybe we can keep this to one thread please?

(I've already merged them into this thread)



I studied Italian for 2 semesters. Not once was a "C" pronounced as a "G", and never was a trailing "I" ignored! And I'm from Jersey! tongue lol

Whaddaya want me to do? Whack a guy? Off a guy? Whack off a guy? --Peter Griffin

My DVDs | Facebook | Godfather Filming Locations
Re: Constructive Criticism? [Re: FrankNitti91] #602983
05/14/11 02:03 AM
05/14/11 02:03 AM
Joined: Jul 2001
Posts: 31,285
New Jersey, USA
J Geoff Offline
The Don
J Geoff  Offline
The Don

Joined: Jul 2001
Posts: 31,285
New Jersey, USA
Some constructive criticism... haven't checked for tense yet, just grammar/spelling/flow a bit -- just my 2c:

Originally Posted By: FrankNitti91
Chapter One
"Fucking bastard," Bobby Schulman muttered as he seen [saw, or, witnessed] a known drug dealer entering [and pulling off in ] a dark-tinted black Mercedes-Benz V124 limousine, and watching it pull off. He [Q]uickly [he] shrugged it off as he entered the New York Supreme Court building.

Its architecture [has] never ceased to amaze Bobby. Although he had been on the force for over 12 years, he still got confused on [as to] where to go when entering this "puzzle house."

"You see Judge Cohen, Ernie?" Bobby asked, showing his NYPD credentials to the retired NYPD officer to his right.

"Yeah, he just acquitted that drug dealer, what's his name," Court officer Ernie Boyd replied[, while]; taking a sip of his cold coffee. "Best bet[,] is he's in his chambers."

Bobby stopped at the small convenience store behind Ernie Boyd's post[,]; buying a pack of Camel cigarettes and a black coffee, [always black,] before making his way to the elevator. He observed as he walked, [As he walked he locked] locking eyes with a gorgeous woman. 'Probably on jury duty' [Probably on jury duty] he thought, walking on to [into] the elevator and pressing four [#4].

It felt like forever due to [while] the elevator stopping [stopped] at every floor between one and four. He got off and made his way to [into] the chambers.

["]Judge Theodore Cohen[" the door read, in gold inscripted lettering] in gold inscripted letters read on the door. Knocking on the wood, he slowly opened the door. Judge Theodore Cohen, or ["]Teddy["] as his friends known [call] him, sat behind his desk smoking a half-finished cigarette, with Marvin Gaye's "I Heard It Through The Grapevine" playing on his mini stereo system.

"Teddy, what's up?" Bobby asked, taking a seat across from the middle-aged man.

No matter how many times Bobby visited Teddy[,] which was often, he never seemed to age though he was [despite being] 53 years old. Being on the bench for 11 years had [has] taken its toll on Judge Teddy Cohen. His once attractive red hair that sparkled like the morning sun was slowly but surely turning white. Those blue eyes that dwelved deep into the hearts of young women in his former days, were now sunken in from the stress of [the] high-profile cases he was taking on. Still[Yet,] all and all, he was still overly handsome, with his Roman nose.

Teddy put out his cigarette. "Hey, Bobby I woulda bet the house you would of been here earlier. What happened?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his head.

Bobby sighed. "Fucking traffic. So, he got off[,] huh?" Bobby leaned in. "How the hell [did] that happen? With a eye witness at that?" he asked.

"Sometimes the power is not in your hands, if you understand [get] what I'm telling you [sayin'], Bobby. On the stand, the witness got amnesia. Said it wasn't David Frazier she saw kill the other drug dealer.[,]" Teddy replied, throwing his hands up in a helpless manner.

Teddy got up and changed the song to Frank Sinatra's "That's Life", and sat back down. Bobby took out a cigarette from his Camel's pack, placing it between his lips, and lit it. "You want?" he asked Teddy.

Teddy shrugged no. "[No,] I only smoke Nat Sherman's," he said, picking up his pack for emphasis.

Bobby got up and walked over to the window to the left of Bobby's desk. Looking out, he pondered on his career. He was going through divorce proceedings and a child custody trial with his soon to be ex-wife Elaine. His main focus was on taking the Brooklyn Outfit, a criminal organization, down. Sincere Frazier, the Don of the [criminal organization] Outfit, was his main target. It seemed like nothing could stick to the man, and [as] he was now venturing into legitimate enterprises, while Bobby's life was whirling out of control.

"You know my unit doesn't even consider the Brooklyn Outfit a major target?" Bobby said. "The lieu[They?] want us to focus on the damn mob," he explained.

Teddy lit another Nat Sherman. "Isn't the mob bigger than these guys though?" he pondered.

Bobby dry laughed. "Yeah in the papers. This guy, Sincere Frazier has Brooklyn locked down with drugs, gambling, [--] any vice you can think of, and he's moving into legit businesses nowadays. The fucking guy is just 28 years old, and I say he's worth millions. Not to mention the Sacrimoni crime family is backing the guy, due to "Remo" Salieri being his godfather and all, you believe that?" Bobby [said as he] sat back down taking a few pulls [drags] off his cigarette.

"Frazier, Frazier, that name holds significant to me. [sounds familiar,]" Teddy said, trying to remember [recall]. "Is he in any way related to Tommy "Doc" Frazier?"

Bobby laughed. "Sincere is his son."

"My good friend, Judge Chambers, put that scumbag away for six consecutive life sentences back in 1978. This guy, Tommy, despite what he was, was a real classy guy. During the trial, he sent [a] flower arrangement to Chambers [him], trying to bribe him," Teddy [said as he drew] pulled off the cigarette. "I was ADA on the case. We estimated he raked in from [between] $1-5 million a week from various criminal activities. He was tight with [Remo, or Frank as I knew him, a] then rising star in the Sacrimoni family, Remo, or Frank as I knew him to be. That more than likely explains the Godfather connection."

Bobby put out his cigarette. "Yeah, Salieri is now next in line to become Boss," he said, enlightening him.

Teddy looked confused. "Remo's up in Lewisburg serving 9 years for labor racketeering, am I correct [right]?"

"Yeah[,] but he's up for parole in a couple of months. He [He'll] be home before we know it," Bobby said, sighing.

"The OCCB unit your [you're] in doesn't have a detail dedicated to these Brooklyn Outfit fellas?" he asked.

"Nope, I stay [tried] stressing this to my Captain[,] Al Linscott, but he just turns a blind eye. Doesn't think a black can amass the wealth of Italians," Bobby explained, taking his first sip of [his] the now cold coffee.

Teddy stood up, followed by Bobby. "Your [You're] gonna get your wish, Bobby. I'm gonna speak to the police commissioner myself. Don't lose sleep over things that's not in your power."

Bobby grabbed Teddy's beige trench coat off the rack, helping Teddy into it. Teddy grabbed his pack of cigs [smokes], stuffing them into his inner coat pocket.

"Where you headed? I'll give you a lift," Bobby asked, cutting off the radio for him.

"Got a lodge meeting in Queens. Sure I won't take you out your way?" Teddy asked, putting on his [cherished] coonskin cap that he cherished.

Bobby waved him off. "Come on Teddy, you know me better than that."

Teddy shut his window blinds, before putting his browline glasses on.

Bobby opened the door for Teddy, and cut [shut] the lights off, as he closed the door.

"What you got planned for Christmas, Bobby?" Teddy asked, as they walked down the empty hallway.

"I don't know, probably go see my parents in Rochester," he replied.

"Well, if you don't figure out what your [you're] doing come join my family and I [[grammatically, should be 'me', but maybe he's not that smart, so okay]] for dinner, okay?" Teddy told him, pressing the elevator button.

Bobby nodded. He wasn't thinking about Christmas, he was thinking about slapping the cuffs on Sincere Frazier[,] personally.



I studied Italian for 2 semesters. Not once was a "C" pronounced as a "G", and never was a trailing "I" ignored! And I'm from Jersey! tongue lol

Whaddaya want me to do? Whack a guy? Off a guy? Whack off a guy? --Peter Griffin

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Re: Constructive Criticism? [Re: FrankNitti91] #603131
05/16/11 01:34 PM
05/16/11 01:34 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
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FrankNitti91 Offline OP
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FrankNitti91  Offline OP
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Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
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Thanks Geoff, can you take a look at the second scene of the chapter?

Re: Constructive Criticism? [Re: FrankNitti91] #603393
05/18/11 04:39 PM
05/18/11 04:39 PM
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
International
FrankNitti91 Offline OP
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FrankNitti91  Offline OP
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Wiseguy
Joined: Apr 2011
Posts: 45
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What do you think of this scene? Does it do it for you?

It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when James Frazier pulled his black 1985 Cadillac Seville into the Starlite motel parking lot. He put the car in neutral, sat back in his seat, and embraced the voice of Teddy Pendergrass singing "Love TKO". Taking the Holland Tunnel had been hell, especially on a December night like this.

Traveling from his nephew David's welcome home party had taken its toll. I'm getting too old for this shit he thought, putting out his cigarette. Though to be where he wanted to be he had to sacrifice. During the ride from Brooklyn he did a lot of thinking; on his life to be specific. He had lived a good life and helped people out when needed. So what if he killed a few guys in his sixty-three years of living.

I never clipped a guy who didn't deserve it he reassured his thoughts. Who was he kidding? He lived a dangerous life that was beginning to climax. Sincere, his brother's kid, was sitting in the seat he deserved, and he didn't have a son to carry on his legacy. James Frazier was just a corpse with a first-class ticket to the morgue. Before leaving, he wasn't going without a bang! You could bet your life on that.

Turning off the car, he got out with his gold-handled cane, slamming the door behind him. Before taking one more step, he pulled out his .45 beretta, took it off safety and tucked it back in his waistband. He continued shuffling, his cane one step ahead of him. Though 63, he still was weary of his surroundings, and kept his eyes trained for the unexpected. Reaching room 22, he lifted his cane to pound on the door twice.

Within seconds, Raymond Lynwood opened the door.

"How you fellas doing?" James asked, stepping inside the warm abode.

Crammed inside the room were three key men: Roland Grant; also known as Rallo, "Willie H" William Hilman, and Dwayne "Broadway" Mason. James wiped his black hush puppies on the welcome mat.

All the men greeted James with a sign of respect: shaking his hand, then cheek to check.

Last edited by FrankNitti91; 05/18/11 04:40 PM.

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