I’ve been enjoying watching you folks FIGHT FOR MY AMUSEMENT IN COMMENT SECTION BLOODSPORT — er, ahh, I mean, “Critique one another’s work in a constructive way.”
As such, it’s time for that once more.
Take a paragraph from your work in progress (AKA: “WIP”).
Post it in the comment section below.
Then, go and critique someone else’s.
Critique is not meant to be binding. Nor cruel. Be constructive, not destructive.
Go forth, post, critique.
misssophieleigh says:
(from a novella in progress): Emmalyn got up herself, cradling her phone in her hand. It had vibrated exactly six times in the past eleven minutes- she had been counting- and if she had any sense she would have turned it off, but she hadn’t, so instead she let it go off every three minutes without fail. She didn’t want to deal with him when she had Grace to coddle. Precious Grace. Lonely Grace. Grieving Grace.
June 2, 2014 — 12:18 AM
Shane Vaughan says:
This is interesting, but I’d remove [herself] unless the sentence directly before it is someone else getting up. but even if that is the case, I’d use [got up too.]
Again, [cradling her phone in her hand] could be [clutching the phone]. Same idea, but a more to the point sentence.
And just for the maths, if it vibrates six times in eleven minutes, and one vibrate equals a ring, then it’s gone off every two minutes, not three. Unless one vibrate doesn’t equal a ring, but then you should point that out, as nit-picky readers like myself will frown.
That said, it’s a nice tone. Man on the phone. Not wanted. Girl beside her, in need, possible attraction going on. It’s good. You grabbed me!
June 2, 2014 — 8:11 AM
abillyhiggins says:
To give this a bit of context, the narrator’s talking about a superhero-y demon
“For instance, he’d worn the same leather jacket for six days. Six days. And that’s only so far as I knew — I’d only known him for six days. I mean for all I knew he could have been born in a ring of fire, wearing the jacket while demons around him sang ‘The Circle of Life.'”
June 2, 2014 — 12:20 AM
Hannah says:
I enjoyed the semi-random humor of your paragraph. I think the light, humorous tone is well-played here. I also really enjoyed the small amount of character building you have in this paragraph – I was able to get a feel for the personality of the protagonist, as well as the “superhero-y demon,” which is great since the paragraph is only four short sentences. I’m a little unsure of the use of the phrase, “for instance,” though, to start out such a funny scene. Perhaps that is solely because I am unable to see the preceding paragraphs to have a complete context. Still, I associate the phrase “for instance” with academic research papers.
June 2, 2014 — 12:40 AM
Sam Witt says:
The last line of this is just killer – it has tons of personality and paints a very clear picture. Awesome stuff. The start of the paragraph was a little hit or miss for me – I think you could combine the first three sentences into a single, punchier version that leads into that awesome last line a little stronger. Good stuff!
June 2, 2014 — 12:59 AM
Lonnie James says:
I like this paragraph because it is over the top. A superhero-ish (superhero-esk?) demon who wears a leather jacket. Wow. But I would take it further.
I mean for all I knew he could have been born in a ring of fire, wearing the jacket while demons around him danced in tuxedos, singing ‘New York, New York.'”
Or something similarly silly!
But well done. It got my attention and I want to know more.
June 2, 2014 — 1:21 AM
Radhika says:
Quite intriguing. A strong, clear voice with a dash of humor! I dub thee very promising! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 1:29 AM
Conrad Steenkamp says:
Smelly chap it seems and one wants to know more about him and why the (one presumes) woman has a connection with him.
on the critical side: I sort of expected an exclamation mark after the second six days, even though one should avoid using it too much.
Shifting to present tense in your reports may help to make the sentences sound more natural, give it more punch. eg. know iso knew.
I’d only known him for six days may read more naturally as Id known him for only six days. The last sentence doesnt do it for me. Too convoluted, complex. Is that the way somebody would talk in real life?
However, what the reader cannot know from this little piece is whether you are presenting a somewhat pedantic character that does talk as precisely as this, using complex sentences etc. Coming to think of it, I know at least one person who would talk like that. but if the linguistic complexity is not a deliberate part of the character, i’d suggest you simplify for easier reading. .
June 2, 2014 — 1:29 AM
Heather says:
I liked this even without the bit of context you offered to start off with. I’m pleased that I would already like to read more of it based off of this one sample.
June 2, 2014 — 1:39 AM
Caitlin says:
Cute! I love the casual voice, and I’m especially fond of the very speech-like patterns of the first few sentences. I think that works really well in first person.
June 2, 2014 — 1:56 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
I like this, I want more. I need more. You must give me more.
June 2, 2014 — 3:54 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
“I mean for all I knew he could have been born in a ring of fire, wearing the jacket while demons around him sang ‘The Circle of Life.’”
This. This awesome line has me chuckling!
June 2, 2014 — 10:14 AM
abillyhiggins says:
Thank you guys. That’s all very flattering and useful! In particular I’m going to take the advice to shorten the three sentences (maybe by turning it into two sentences — I’m not sure yet.)
June 3, 2014 — 9:48 PM
Hannah says:
“I never had the ability to match my energy to those that surrounded me, while others were able, albeit clumsily, to mimic those around them. It baffled me that I could see everyone’s behaviors, everyone’s expressions, and hear everyone’s tone, yet like a funhouse mirror, any attempt on my part appeared all the more noticeable for its distortions. I was ambivalent towards this self-declared distinction, swaying between loathing and superiority alternatively, depending on the transgressions of the day.”
June 2, 2014 — 12:32 AM
Rose Red says:
You had me at funhouse mirror. Can I have the next paragraph please?
June 2, 2014 — 9:03 AM
Hannah says:
Oh, thanks! I’m glad you liked the simile.
June 2, 2014 — 8:02 PM
Alecia Miller says:
I think you have captured the feeling of an outsider very well (without context, I am not sure what kind of outsider). The last sentence is a little off to me though. I think you can get rid of alternatively (since that is implied by the swaying between). The rest of the paragraph sounds like the narrator leans much more toward the loathing side rather than superiority side of things, so you may want to flesh that part out a little.
June 2, 2014 — 9:15 AM
Hannah says:
Thanks! My protagonist is an outsider mostly from her inner turmoil (of course there are also external reasons as well, but that’s not really where I’m placing the emphasis). The plot of the novel is mostly based off of her perception of herself as someone who has both “special” talents and “special” defects, but she’s not by any means some fantastical outcast. I agree that “swaying” was perhaps redundant, so I’ll remove that. I actually do talk a little bit more about why she feels superior in the next couple paragraphs, but obviously you weren’t able to see those. Thank you for your suggestions!
June 2, 2014 — 8:17 PM
Alex Kane (@alexjkane) says:
“Biolamps stutter alight when Sedna enters. Sequentially they dapple the walls and floor with a dim blue-green light, cast their gleam upon the polished metal and glass of her laboratory instruments. A young newborn man sits shivering before her at the edge of an examination table: face half hidden in shadow, body slick and dripping with nutrient-rich liquid from the culture tank in which she’d grown him.”
June 2, 2014 — 12:34 AM
Sam Witt says:
Very cool paragraph that does a great job setting the scene. My only quibble here is with the word “sequentially.” I get what you’re trying to show here, but I think it could be a little stronger if you rework it to make the picture clearer without that one little word. Maybe reveal details of the room as the lights come to life around it’s, or show them popping to life as she draws nearer to her subject?
I also suggest dumping “young” from the beginning of the third sentence. “A newborn man” sounds more striking and clear to me without the second qualifier.
Intriguing stuff, I like the creepy sci-fi Frankenstein vibe.
June 2, 2014 — 1:03 AM
Caitlin says:
Very cool imagery–especially “newborn man”! Love the juxtaposition of those words. Agreed with Sam’s advice to remove “young”, though, I don’t think it’s needed.
I might move “sequentially” to after “alight”: “Biolamps stutter alight sequentially…” in conjunction with Sam’s crit about revealing details of the room as the lights come on.
Great paragraph!
June 2, 2014 — 2:00 AM
Jacey Bedford says:
Agree with Sam Witt about ‘sequentially’ and about dumping ‘young’. ‘Newborn’ on its own is stronger.
The biolamps bit distracts from the stength of the third sentence, however. The description is a bit OTT. Try starting with the ‘newborn man’ sentence and dripfeed the biolamps into the rest of the narrative. I respectfully suggest they may ‘dapple the walls’ or ‘cast their gleam’, but not both in the same sentence. There’s far too much emphasis on the biolamps when the newborn man is a startling and powerful image and is what this paragraph is all about.
Oh, and BTW, do you mean the newborn man is sitting ‘at’ the edge of an examination table or may he be sitting ‘on’ it?
June 2, 2014 — 6:36 AM
tracikenworth says:
Need and before “cast their gleam.” How does she know he’s a newborn? Is she a scientist/worker there? How does she relate to him? I’m sure you may answer these in your following paragraphs, if not might want to take a look at.
June 2, 2014 — 8:53 PM
Kris Lynn says:
Emmaline enjoyed the view from a ledge high on the wall of the ancient canyon. A sight few had ever seen. She mused, as she always did, that it wasn’t the violence of pounding flood waters that had scoured the canyon, but rather it was by a skilled potter’s hands that the sides of the deep ravine were so divinely formed. With a practiced touch, her giant artisan had molded the mountain’s core into a spectacular labyrinth of turns meandering this way and that, upward and downward, while smoothing the layers of sandstone into flowing silken ribbons that stretched around each bend. When the stone was still moist clay, he had gouged out caverns and narrow gorges in a wild, artistic frenzy. He then left it all to bake in the unrelenting Arizona sun into the masterpiece before her with no purpose but to find glory in the medium, no reason but to press a sinuous trough of red-stained sandstone ever deeper into the bony back of Prospector’s Mountain.
June 2, 2014 — 12:40 AM
Jana Denardo says:
I really loved the images in this. This part, however, read slightly awkward to me “With a practiced touch, her giant artisan” but I’m not entirely sure why.
June 2, 2014 — 12:48 AM
Kate says:
This felt warm to read, like standing on hot sand. I felt very much in that place. Great work!
June 2, 2014 — 1:43 AM
Caitlin says:
Lovely imagery, dare I say glorious. Just a handful of copy things I noticed:
I’d probably tack “A sight few had ever seen” to the first sentence with a comma. I’m also not sure if “scoured” is really the word you want to use, since it usually means to clean or scrub. It might work, since it indicates abrasiveness, but there’s probably a better word (hewn? carved?).
I think Jana’s issue might be with the use of “her” as opposed to “the giant artisan.” I see what you mean–it’s Emmaline’s imaginary being–but “the” would probably work just as well and not inspire confusion.
June 2, 2014 — 2:06 AM
Conrad says:
Positive comments: Excellent imagery. One can really see what you are describing. One also gets a sense of the passage of time and great forces at work. Majestic forces.
Neutral observation: Why have few ever seen the sight? A question that comes up when one reads the sentence. I assume it is explained by the context or further in the text. If not, then… (fill in the gaps)
Critical comments:
1) Visual is good, but could you bring in other senses?
2) The negative (it wasnt the…) breaks the flow of the passage.
3) Commencing with when also breaks action. The important part are the violent/powerful actions. Better to have them up front, I think.
4) Would consider deleting/ replacing the descriptives ‘wild’ and ‘frenzy’. It is somewhat out of touch with the majestic purposeful nature of the preceding actions.
June 2, 2014 — 3:02 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
Elegant imagery that just melts me. Love it.
June 2, 2014 — 4:35 AM
fadedglories says:
I second the others, your imagery is strong and I was also jerked out of the picture by the phrase ‘her giant artisan’.
If you’ve already explained who this creature/deity/servant/ whatever is before that’s fine, however if this is the first mention of it then perhaps you need to change it. I read the paragraph several times and concluded that you might be talking of a god creator, but maybe I’m wrong.
If the rest of your Wip is like this then you are definitely making me want to read more.
June 2, 2014 — 4:43 AM
Jana Denardo says:
Kaleo stole another kiss then rejoined the group. He didn’t dare look back. He wouldn’t miss the slum, but he would miss Dovon. If he glanced back at his lover, Kaleo would break. He didn’t like to admit fear, but it was there, running laps in his belly. He didn’t know the first thing about the planet-side estates owned by the Merchanters, separated as they were from the slums by high walls and at least two hundred miles of military training ground. Of course, he could end up off-world instead. That was terrifying but exciting, too. Hell, this was his first time in a shuttle capable of going to the orbital colony. As they blasted away from the only home he knew, Kaleo glanced around at the young people, who, like him, wanted a chance at a better life. Dovon should have been in the seat next to him. It was so damn unfair. Still, this bunch was less rough than Kaleo expected, a handsome group, but before he could assess the situation and make new alliances, a strange light headedness washed over him. Who knew space flight would affect him so? Kaleo looked out a portal. The stars swam before his eyes and then the universe went out.
June 2, 2014 — 12:45 AM
Caitlin says:
This is great. Nice pacing of information. I might rearrange the first couple of sentences for a clearer logical flow, something more like:
“He wouldn’t miss the slum, but he would miss Dovon. Kaleo stole another kiss, then rejoined the group. He didn’t dare look back. If he glanced back at his lover, Kaleo would break. He didn’t like to…”
Also, do you mean porthole when you say portal?
June 2, 2014 — 2:10 AM
Jana Denardo says:
Thank you. Yes. I do mean porthole. Thanks for catching that.
June 2, 2014 — 10:48 AM
fadedglories says:
I think you might insert a paragraph break after ‘…..going to the orbital colony’ partly because he’s kissing his lover one second and whizzing through space the next, but also because it shows that Dovon occupies all his attention until he falls asleep/passes out.
June 2, 2014 — 4:49 AM
Jana Denardo says:
I think you might insert a paragraph break after ‘…..going to the orbital colony – Thanks. I originally had it as two paragraphs. I should have left it alone.
June 2, 2014 — 10:39 AM
Lonnie James says:
The day my mother sent me to collect my father had been a scorcher like this one. As soon as I entered the bar and felt the cool air brush against my sweaty skin and provide instant relief, I thought I understood why he came to that dark place, why he spent his days and a great many nights sitting on a stool drinking foul smelling liquid that made him and other grown men grimace. I thought I understood. But I didn’t know about hopelessness. I didn’t know about despair or the deep dark hole that a person can dig themselves into one drink at a time. I didn’t understand about wallowing in self-pity. I must’ve been seven.
June 2, 2014 — 12:50 AM
Radhika says:
I like the emotional undertow of the scene and the way it melds past and present. A few edits required to achieve a consistent style though. Keep up the good work! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 1:33 AM
Caitlin says:
Love this a lot. The repetition’s very effective. The second sentence is too much of a run-on, though. I’d put a period in: “…thought I understood. Why he came…”
The last line is such a kicker, too. Great work.
June 2, 2014 — 2:13 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
Oh man there is a lot of emotion right there. I agree that one sentence is a bit long and needs broken up to fit in with the others, but then it’s just amazing. Especially those last few words. Power, right there. Sheer power.
June 2, 2014 — 4:37 AM
Heather says:
Just a thought, could you announce the age earlier on – I’m trying to picture the mom who sent you after him in a bar. ‘My mother with no regard for a 7 year olds fear, sent me into a foggy bar’, maybe let the bartender say your name in a familiar tone – seen you there before kinda thing. I love this but you can say a ton more. Really good I think.
June 2, 2014 — 7:15 AM
Sam Witt says:
The Night Marshal wanted to start his Sunday morning with a shot of Gentleman Jack to drive away the ghost of his hangover, one of his wife’s homemade drop biscuit and sausage sandwiches slathered with honey butter, and a half-dozen more hours of sleep. Instead, he’d started the Sabbath by hauling his eight-year-old daughter across the Pitchfork County to get a look at the mutilated girl some asshole cultists had hung from a cross.
June 2, 2014 — 12:57 AM
Steve Barclay says:
Great setting detail! The time that the story takes place in is hinted at subtly and beautifully. I’m seeing Southern Gothic all in this paragraph. Finally, character oozes from the whole thing in the night marshal’s want for sleep and chasing off a hangover, but he cares enough for his daughter not to leave her alone. Very well done! I did, however, find myself a little tripped up on the first sentence. It’s a small thing, really. The first independent clause doesn’t really flow easily into the rest of the series. You could remedy this by breaking that first sentence into two sentences.
June 2, 2014 — 1:23 AM
Sam Witt says:
That’s a good point – the first sentence is a whole lot to swallow. I may end up busting it into three sentences, one for each of his wants, then turn the fourth sentence around to show what he’s getting. Easier to digest and more symmetrical. Thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 11:59 PM
Radhika says:
I like the atmosphere you’ve built-up and the rhythm of the sentences.
One correction: one of his wife’s homemade drop biscuit(S). Sorry, occupational hazard of being a writer/editor.
June 2, 2014 — 1:27 AM
Sam Witt says:
Thanks for the feedback, Radhika – that biscuit/sausage mess should have been cleaned up with some hyphens!
June 2, 2014 — 2:45 AM
Radhika says:
Thanks! It’s an easy fix really! Wish you all the best for your book.
June 2, 2014 — 5:26 AM
Caitlin says:
Hahaha this is great. Love the voice. I wonder if some of the sections of the first sentence might not work as parentheticals. A la:
“…a shot of Gentleman Jack (to drive away the ghost of his hangover), one of his wife’s homemade drop-biscuit-and-sausage sandwiches (slathered with honey butter), and a half-dozen…”
I also added hyphens, as you can see, to clarify that biscuit does need to be singular. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 2:16 AM
Sam Witt says:
Good catch on the hyphens, but parentheticals . . . these are the debil. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 2:45 AM
Moonshine Meret says:
I love how cut and dry this is. You can really feel the rhythm in it, like your main character is an aging western sheriff type who hates his job and wants more out of life than he gets! As far as the atmosphere of the piece, that was wonderful. I think you really clinched it.
Below, I wrote in a couple of suggestions where the asterisks are. I think that your opening sentence is a touch too long and needs to be trimmed, since it’s a run-on, and where I changed the “half-dozen” area is just because that’s the way it read in my head. I feel like this sort of story could add in more even more grittiness to the piece, almost like reading it in that self-same western accent. I could really see it as very colloquial, like where you say, “biscuit and sausage sandwiches”, I could see it as “biscuit n’ sausage sandwiches.” I think if you added little touches like that, it would give you even more definition of voice! Either way, I think you did a great job.
The Night Marshal *had* wanted to start his Sunday morning with a shot of Gentleman Jack to drive away the ghost of his hangover *, but that wasn’t happening. He longed for* one of his wife’s homemade *biscuit and sausage sandwiches slathered with honey butter, and about half-a-dozen more hours of sleep. Instead, he’d started the sabbath by hauling his eight-year-old daughter across the Pitchfork County to get a look at the mutilated girl some asshole cultists had hung from a cross.
June 2, 2014 — 3:10 AM
Sam Witt says:
Thanks so much for your input and suggested revisions. I’m a little leery of getting to colloquial in the narrative, as there’s a good bit of very local language in the dialogue bits, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind as a way to up the texture as I go along.
Thanks again!
June 3, 2014 — 12:01 AM
Steve Barclay says:
The streets moved by as the carriage jostled on cobbled streets past shop fronts and shopkeeps sweeping their stoops and arranging their front window displays. The day’s warmth, a break from a bitter cold winter, brought people to stroll the sidewalks, ladies in silk dresses carrying parasols with a hand laid over the arms of their husbands, stopping to admire the clocks in a window or stepping into the shop of a dressmaker. When the carriage turned corner onto a street with grocer’s stalls, the butcher, and the bread maker, the face of the population changed. Here the women walking the streets were those who served, the cooks, maids, and serving girls. Polly watched as filth-covered children stood near these doorways, studying loaves of bread arranged in baskets as if they were crates of butterscotch, jelly beans, and rock candy, only to be shooed away by a shopkeep wielding a broom. They scurried back into the alleyways to hide among the other dirt-smudged faces peering from around piles of refuse.
June 2, 2014 — 1:10 AM
fadedglories says:
I like the way your character sees a changing scene that tells us something about this society.
I think perhaps a bit of reaction from Polly would strengthen it further. If perhaps she admired the colours of the silk dresses or noticed a serving girl’s worn shoes it would tie her in with the scene?
June 2, 2014 — 8:35 AM
Scott Roche says:
You painted a picture with your words. I like that. One or two of the sentences could stand to be broken up. I agree with FG about a reaction from Polly.
June 3, 2014 — 10:19 AM
Radhika says:
I wake up, and its night. The walls crumble to dust. There is nothing else, only a beige, dusty light. Sharp slivers of glass encircle me, floating in midair; making pretty changing patterns. Waiting to pierce me. What did I do to be trapped in this (here)? What is this?
I went to sleep in a perfectly normal, late evening room, what’s taken over?
One beautiful, green shard of glass darts around my head, fashioned like the thinnest dagger. These swirling shapes and colors are hypnotizing me.
Crimson, royal blue, sunburst yellow, bright pink, silver, gold… leaf green… hum and buzz…
I’m sinking…
Will they, can this beauty, actually harm me?
That green glass, alights on the hand I didn’t know I had stretched out; and with a sideways bow starts to dance! Red follows its path across my palm – the blood from under my vanishing skin. But no pain. A mellow smell of crushed rose petals.
Another, and then another touches me. And the same ritual, of bow and dance. And soon, I am red. My arms, my face, my legs – all red.
Streams of blood flowing away, making me feel so light…
What is it that they’re taking away? What was so vital for me to shed?
As tears join my blood down the heaving red sea around my feet, something caresses my face so softly that I almost can’t feel it. I open my eyes to see that thousands of downy, creamy feathers are fanning my skin.
And layer by layer, I begin to look like me again.
No, but that is not me. It is, but isn’t. There is something the mirror like water around shows, in this crystal choir light – that never was there before.
I don’t feel like just one, just Uma. Its as if so many Uma’s; Uma and again Uma has come within me. I am magnified inside; multiplied by a thousand, by an infinity—
Somehow, without my noticing, the peach walls of my room slowly melted back into being again. And the night, with its bedside lamp.
(Bit more than a paragraph! But it only makes sense as a scene. :))
– An excerpt from the Goddess Song Series.
June 2, 2014 — 1:24 AM
fadedglories says:
Whoah! I love this. Does she wake up or is she dreaming? It’s exciting and mystifying. I want to know what’s happening to her too because it sounds important.
Couple of niggles:
‘What did I do to be trapped in this (here)?’ I’m not sure if you’re offering an alternative word or trying to show how confused she is, but it sticks out. Personally I’d go for ‘here’ because the next sentence asks ‘What is this?’
I also think I’d drop ‘Will they,’ a bit further down and have that sentence read ‘Can this beauty actually harm me?’
I’m slightly confused by ‘As tears join my blood down the heaving red sea around my feet,….’ should that read ‘ flowing into’ or ‘running into’ …’the heaving red sea,’ ?
By the way did I say I love this?
June 2, 2014 — 5:04 AM
Radhika says:
Thank you! This is a gift you’ve given me today. I’ve been wondering about the repetitions, unsure about whether they build to a crescendo or become distracting. Your incisive feedback has given me a great perspective to consider. Bless you fadedglories! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 5:32 AM
asteros says:
This really is good. And the description at the beginning captivates the reader, swallowing them in your own world. Lovely.
June 2, 2014 — 5:41 AM
Radhika says:
Oh! Thank you asteros! Your words made my hear sing!
June 2, 2014 — 7:35 AM
Radhika says:
*heart!
June 2, 2014 — 7:40 AM
Rio says:
It’s a very beautiful scene, but the grammar is awful. Replace the semicolon in the second line with a comma. Replace the comma before “what’s taken over?” in the fourth line into a period. Get rid of the comma after “beautiful” in the fifth line. If it were me, I’d just nix line ten altogether. Get rid of the comma and the semicolon in line eleven. And the exclamation point while you’re at it. Get ride of the comma after “ritual” and “soon” in line fourteen. The word “down” in the eighteenth line doesn’t really make sense in the context. “There is something the mirror like water around shows” makes no sense in any context. Maybe just get rid of “like water around.” Change “that never was there before” to “that was not there before.” The sentence with all the Umas is really confusing.
Technically, you shouldn’t start sentences with “and” or “but,” but writers do it all the time for effect, so it’s not really a big deal. Same with sentence fragments. You might want to use those less often, though. Be sure to use commas and semicolons properly. Try to be more direct when you write. You use a lot of complex sentence structures and it makes everything very confusing and busy. Perhaps it would be the length of a paragraph if you cut out all the fat.
Also, and this is just something that bothers me personally, but I hate all those rhetorical questions you use in this. There are just so many! I get that she has no idea what’s going on, but they’re mostly just very distracting and they just make the scene even more confusing.
June 2, 2014 — 11:05 AM
Radhika says:
Thank you Rio! The name of the main character is Uma! 🙂 A teenager, so the rawness of her expressions was integral to my conception of her. Your feedback has been quite helpful. I understand now, the range of reactions this book is likely to get. But certainly, some cogent points. I will keep your perspective in mind while editing. Cheers!
June 3, 2014 — 7:51 AM
Heather says:
Las Vegas is known for quite a few noteworthy qualities. One, obviously, is the mecca of countless casinos and gambling halls which start in the center of the city (the “strip”) and spread outwards like a chancy shockwave of risky play and big payouts. They support the local economy in a big way and pull tourists here from around the world offering the finest excitement life often has to offer. Over the past few decades the city has received a major face-lift and a reputation transformation as politicians and representatives alike push their agendas and work to make Vegas haute and chic for all types of visitors, not just families. (Does “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” ring a bell?) They have spent decades hypnotizing and distracting people from noticing anything beyond the attractions, the concerts and shows, around the clock all-you-can-eat buffets, excursions, and fun, fun, fun everywhere you turn. Nobody has a bad time in Vegas! Every year people swarm by tens of thousands, drawn in by the allure of the neon and the nightlife, captivated by its spell, like mosquitoes to the ultra-violet light of a high wattage bug zapper. They taste the nectar of excess and bacchanalian pleasure and then of those masses, thousands of them decide that this is the life for them. They will achieve their American dream… in Vegas, baby!
June 2, 2014 — 1:36 AM
Marie A says:
Heather, is this for travel writing or other factual purpose? That’s fine, it’s just that it doesn’t sound like fiction. In any case, the main thing is to reduce the wordiness and punch it up. I like “chancy shockwave of risky play and big payouts” and you should use that right off the bat if you can get away it. Once past the initial travelogue stuff, seems like you are going for a snarkier tone, which is cool with me, but it’s a little hard to see where you’re going with this paragraph. If it’s meant to be sly and metaphor-laden, then I say go for it and cut as much explanatory material as you can.
June 2, 2014 — 9:06 AM
Heather says:
I suppose I could have given a little bit of an explanation beforehand, but preferred to see the response without it first. It is, in fact, a fictional story. This is merely an excerpt of exposition inthe story. It is most definitely intended to be snarky.
So, too wordy in the beginning, eh?
June 2, 2014 — 10:35 AM
Marie A says:
Let your snark fly free then!
June 2, 2014 — 9:40 PM
Heather says:
I don’t see your submission for critique on here. I would love to see what you have to offer everyone.
June 2, 2014 — 9:46 PM
Kate says:
I walked through a field of wheat at dusk, their variegated heads bowed against the exhalation of night, with a sickle clenched in my palm. As the sun fell behind me I carved the sickle across my skin, tracing new furrows and dells. Thick slabs of clay fell from my limbs, mounding at my feet. I moaned as the weight fell away, dark hair plastered to my sweat-dampened brow. I winnowed myself down in the half-light until I was but a half-person. As Andromeda railed against her chains on the horizon I knelt among the slumbering wheat and mounded the clay. With my ministrations the mound grew and grew: first two columns of ochre, then a trunk, branches, and a crown. My final gift, arms weak and stomach concave with a ravenous hunger, was to kiss you on the mouth and sing into your lungs the song of life.
June 2, 2014 — 1:36 AM
Radhika says:
Wow! That’s powerful! An entire world in a paragraph!
June 2, 2014 — 7:42 AM
fadedglories says:
Your MC sounds so primeval. I felt like I was reading about some ritual from the far, far, past. I hope that’s what you intended! I really hope I can read more of this in the future.
Loved it.
June 2, 2014 — 8:29 AM
cajetane says:
Wow, this really punched through. Gripping. The only thing I would take away is the word variegated.
June 2, 2014 — 11:42 AM
Mozette says:
Alice landed the craft on the roof of the shopping centre and the two of them prepared themselves for what was going to be outside the armoured doors in near silence. They exited the vehicle and she pressed the button on the laser remote and the whole vehicle coated itself in thick armour plating before putting the alarm on.
She turned to her boss, “Now, let’s get going. This is the part I love.”
“What’s that?”
“Hunting.” She smiled walking past Angelina.
The two walked across the blackened roof where there were broken pieces of the air conditioning unit all over the place. Bodies littered the place where battles had taken place and they were won and lost over the smallest things; things of survival, things of need, things of want and greed over purely living from one night to the next. This was no place for the weak-minded. As her secretary walked past her, Angelina knew this and also knew that the woman would put her life before her own… and she quickly followed her as the night fell over Logan City, and darkness engulfed their vehicle behind them.
Mine’s got dialogue… but you get the idea of it. It’s the last continuing chapters of ‘Fry Nelson: Bounty Hunter’ Book 3. I love it, hate it and want it to end on a high note, a low note and everything else in between… but most of all, I want to please my readers as much as I want to be pleased too.
Does that make sense, Chuck? Or do I sound like a raving lunatic? 🙁
June 2, 2014 — 1:47 AM
Moonshine Meret says:
Basically, the version at the bottom is how I would have edited this if I were doing it for work. The structure for your scene is good, but your word choice and focus need to be tighter. I have a couple of questions about a few sections here that I feel were a bit weak.
1. You mention that there are two people in the craft, but then you name Angelina, which I am not certain if that’s the other person, or if there are actually three people. Is Angelina her boss? If so, it’s probably just not clear here since this is out of context to everything that came before it.
2. The portion where you mention Alice walking past Angelina felt like it was unnecessary. Why is it important that we know where she is in relation to the other woman? What is Angelina doing that is important to this section? If it doesn’t need to be there, I’d just say, “”Hunting,” she said with a smile.” and have no mention of Angelina. Since in the next sentence you say they are walking, it’s a redundant, moot point to say that she’s walking by her prior to that.
3. You have mention of Alice walking ahead of Angelina, but then you go back to it more from Angelina’s point of view later in the paragraph, despite the fact that you already said that they were walking. This is slightly confusing.
4. You mention “…as night fell over Logan City…” and to me, this makes it sound like they are in the city, rather than above it on a rooftop. Is this the first mention of where they are in this particular chapter?
5. What kind of vehicle is this? Clearly something that can fly, but is it a helicopter? Something futuristic? Clarity would help.
6. You say that the doors are armour plated, but then you say that she presses a button and they get covered with armour plating.
7. I’d definitely need something after the first line of dialogue to understand which person is talking right away.
8. I think you can go a little deeper into why Alice would give her life for Angelina, and also what she is running from. (Unless that’s in an earlier part already that isn’t posted.)
There are a couple of areas of this that are confusing, and I think it would help to tighten your wording and imagery.
“Alice landed the craft on the roof of the shopping centre and the two of them prepared themselves in silence for whatever awaited them outside of the “VEHICLE NAME’S” doors. As they exited the vehicle, Alice pressed the button on the laser remote and watched as thick armour plating coated the entire craft, sealing it firmly. She pressed the alarm and turned to her boss.
“Now let’s get going. This is the part I love,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Hunting,” she said with a smile.
They walked across the blackened roof, dodging bits of broken air conditioners and the bodies of fallen soldiers. The battles that had taken place here had been fought for the smallest need–the most basic instinct: survival. It seemed like such a trivial thing, but it was so necessary to life. The want to keep living, one night to the next was almost ironic, as they had fought so hard to live that it ultimately killed them.
Angelina glanced at Alice and felt a strange kinship with her secretary. She knew that this woman would put her life before her own if it came down to it, but she prayed that it wouldn’t ever reach that point. They quickly made their way to the doors that led inside, and Angelina watched as the night fell over the world, and darkness engulfed the battered rooftop behind them.”
I hope this is helpful! Please let me know if you want me to clarify anything.
June 2, 2014 — 2:58 AM
Mozette says:
Hey thanks! I appreciate everything you’ve told me. 😀 I’ll take it all into consideration and work on the chapter more as well. 😀
June 2, 2014 — 7:31 AM
Smoph says:
Good advice! I’d also add, keep it trim. ie. as night fell, and darkness engulfed the battered rooftop… 2 things. Night falling is dark, so you can just say “night fell and engulfed the (battered) rooftop – battered is what you’ve already described in the start of the paragraph. 🙂
June 5, 2014 — 1:18 AM
Caitlin says:
Context: Main character Lucinda is haunted by death omens. Her roommate Naomi as asked her to either share her dream, or tell what’s going on between her and Damien.
“She tried to weigh her options, but she was too intoxicated to think through anything in great detail. Words were lost to her. When she thought of Damien, her stomach lurched in a manner more befitting a fish stolen from the water and mercilessly left to flop to its death on the sticky deck of some aging rowboat. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it back down, shaking her head to clear the blurry memories prodding her retinas. She couldn’t. Unfortunately, her ‘dream’ wasn’t much better. She’d asked that question because she wanted to focus on Naomi, not because she wanted to share herself. There was a black pit in her heart where her dream should be, piled high with dead ravens and dogs. But Naomi had asked. Lucinda had to provide some kind of answer. She wanted to come up with something beautiful, something as hopeful as her sweet friend’s dream, but the whiskey retreated from her extremities and left her whole body cold and weary, dissolving her heart in its acid instead.
“My dream is to stay alive,” she said. She stood and darted into the bathroom to vomit, kicking over her shot glass and spilling whiskey onto the carpet.”
June 2, 2014 — 1:54 AM
Moonshine Meret says:
I like the set up of the scene and the way you pace it. I would suggest that perhaps some of your analogies are a bit ill suited in length. Where you write, “When she thought of Damien, her stomach…” I feel that should be shorter, both for the readability and the context. For instance, I might say, “When she thought of Damien, her stomach lurched in a manner more befitting a dying fish, flopping the last seconds of its life away on a dry bank.” Or, you could write it even simpler, “When she thought of Damien, her stomach lurched and flopped like a dying fish.” Descriptive words are great, but when you use too many of them, you lose your reader. That sentence in particular stuck out to me, as it was both too long and used too many “flavor” words.
Another area that seemed a touch rough was “…blurry memories prodding her retinas.” It was fine for me until I got to “prodding her retinas.” I would cut that last portion out, to be honest. “…shaking her head to clear the blurry memories within it.” would be just as suitable but more to the point and without the questionable wording.
My favorite line in this excerpt was actually the last:
“My dream is to stay alive,” she said. She stood and darted into the bathroom to vomit, kicking over her shot glass and spilling whiskey onto the carpet.”
I love that line out of all of them because it’s not trying to be something that it isn’t. You’re not using metaphoric word choice, and it feels raw, and I think that’s GREAT in this scene. This is probably, in my opinion, the most powerful line you have here. I think that your story sounds really interesting, and I love the concept of it! I do think that you should focus on cleaning up some of the wording, however, because keeping it a bit simpler will streamline it to your readers and give it the same gusto that the last line has.
Great job! If you have any questions for me, or want to bounce anything off of me, let me know!
June 2, 2014 — 2:27 AM
Moonshine Meret says:
The young cleric’s eyes were wide, his mouth open as he struggled for control of the reigns of the animal that bore him. He’d been selected for many reasons, but, Jarys N’los was ashamed to say, most obviously was his complete ignorance of husbandry, horses, or riding of any manner. The boy’s hands were tight on the leather leads, and he pulled the charger’s head too sharply. If the cleric had any sense in his head, he’d understand that by reading the tension in the animal’s neck. Despite the discomfort of a poor rider, the horse would likely make quick time at any rate, if only for his eagerness to be rid of the fool. Perhaps it was not so well thought a plan after all.
“Send word to Sir Morderys—he is assisting with a foal in Olysh. Tell him that Noemi has gone into labor and he must return… be swift as you can.” Elder Jarys bade the messenger and swatted the horse’s rump, spurring the great beast into motion. He knew that if his task were to be as dishonorable as the stranger had portended, then he really would not want Morderys Rykerdaan—father to the child of dreaded prophesy—to be present. Watching the cleric fight to stay in the saddle, he hoped the boy’s ill-suited task would give him enough time to perform his own in the interim.
June 2, 2014 — 2:13 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Hey, I’ve tried 3 times now to comment on this, but every time I try I get a 404 error (Chuck, help, I think I broke your interweb!). If you’d like my response, just drop me your email address (or somewhere else I can post this). I checked your blog for a contact page and found an automated form, but didn’t know if that was just to leave a comment… and I didn’t wanna do that as it’s quiet a long reply.
June 2, 2014 — 4:02 AM
Radhika says:
I like the ambition, breath and immediacy of the writing. The scene-setting and style are consistent. I am a bit confused about this sentence though: “He’d been selected for many reasons, but, Jarys N’los was ashamed to say, most obviously was his complete ignorance of husbandry, horses, or riding of any manner.” Maybe try simplifying? Nice job overall, loads of promise! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 7:39 AM
M.A. Kropp says:
First sentence, you want “reins” not “reigns”. It’s a little wordy in spots. And I found myself a little confused: is it the same character in both paragraphs? It seems a bit off as far at timing, if so. Of course, that may just be context. Without the surrounding scenes, it’s hard to say, but I was a bit unsure.
June 2, 2014 — 2:22 PM
Brent McGuffin says:
On the day the world that he knew ended, Bobby was in a strange town with the wrong girl. Not that the town was all that strange, just strange to him. Not that the girl was all that wrong, just…She wasn’t Mandy. Mandy was about five-hundred miles in his rearview and in many ways farther than that.
June 2, 2014 — 2:38 AM
Louisa says:
This is a powerful intro paragraph. You could ramp it up a little by tightening your word choices and sentence structure here and there. For example start with: “The day the world he knew ended….” and split the last sentence to give that final flick some sting by full stop after ‘rearview’. Then “And in many ways father than that.” Seems to me that would emphasise the sense of loss.
June 2, 2014 — 2:52 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
I love the sense of impending adventure (and possibly tragedy) that this paragraph portrays.
As Louisa has already said, a little tweaking of your sentence structure will help the flow. Also, I don’t believe you should capitalise the word ‘she’ after your ellipses.
June 2, 2014 — 3:13 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
I agree with Louisa about the sentence structure. In its essence it is a good paragraph, it just needs to find better expression through the flow of the reader’s pace.
Also, no to capitalizing after ellipses. Ellipses are a pause in a sentence, not the end of one. But that’s a small quibble. XD
June 2, 2014 — 3:41 AM
Cheryl says:
Great opening paragraph. It gives a sense of place, character and conflict. I immediately want to know how the world he knew ended, and I’m curious about Mandy and why he wasn’t with her. I also enjoyed the ‘Not that’ repetition. Not sure about the ellipsis, especially in narrative. I might have reworded to avoid that, but otherwise there’s nothing I’d really suggest changing. A good, strong paragraph.
June 2, 2014 — 3:58 AM
Brent McGuffin says:
Thank you all who gave your suggestions. They were all great and I’ll be applying this to my edits. Big thank you again!!
June 6, 2014 — 3:36 AM
Louisa says:
Rym Hester. Bringing a tidal wave of long buried hurts surging to the surface. Standing there all broad shoulders, testosterone and leather jacket. Not casual, soft leather, but the padded, reinforced kind that motor cyclists wore. A jacket that gave a man the look of a modern day knight back from fighting wars. And dragons. Add in that sweep of dark hair across his forehead and the rat bastard looked like some kind of demigod.
June 2, 2014 — 2:53 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Nice! The descriptions are short and succinct but they convey everything that (I feel) needs to be told, and make me want to know more about this modern day knight.
The only thing that doesn’t really do it for me is the name. It’s very unique, and certainty makes your character a little more memorable, but I feel like I got bludgeoned with it, just standing there on its own at the start of the paragraph. At first I thought it was the name of some fantasy world. Then I thought it was a comic book super-villain (though I guess it does encourage the reader to continue reading, to find out what the hell a ‘Rym Hester’ actually is).
June 2, 2014 — 3:04 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
The Rym Hester there by itself was a little abrupt, I agree. However, it did draw me in – sort of in a confused state – into the rest of the paragraph to figure out what I had just read. Perhaps the previous paragraph sets it up though.
June 2, 2014 — 3:38 AM
Smoph says:
I agree with the spaceman. Hopefully there is context for the name on its own previous, because the rest of it is a great description.
June 5, 2014 — 1:24 AM
Scott Roche says:
I like this a lot. The way it’s broken up lends something to the toughness of the character.
June 3, 2014 — 10:21 AM
Finn Moore says:
They’re climbing the wall, he thinks. Up, up, up, over the walls, over the roof, tapping at the windows. He pictures them in his head, sees them as he knows they must be. He imagines them in all their bone, in their bleached white, no skin, long limbs. He can see those tiny, sharp little teeth clacking and chittering, can feel their presence just outside the window, inside his head, just out of sight-
It stops.
June 2, 2014 — 2:54 AM
Wendy Christopher says:
Ooooh, liking this one a lot! I like the fact we’re right inside the hero’s head, sensing what he’s sensing, and the masterful building of tension, which comes to a peak with the simple but effective, two words “It stops.”
The only thing that jars for me is the part “He imagines them in all their bone…” My immediate reaction was “their bone what?” I know what comes next clarifies that ‘they’ are skeletons of some kind, but the pedant in me just feels like the grammar’s wrong rather than it being a descriptive quirk. And that is just my opinion, which of course doesn’t make it right. 🙂
Other than that, this has definitely made me want to read more! Top job.
June 2, 2014 — 8:47 AM
Kiara says:
I get what Wendy is saying here and I had the same little hesitation when I read it. I’d maybe try “in their bleached white bone”, unless there’s a specific reason for the repetition there.
June 2, 2014 — 4:32 PM
Conrad says:
Lyse Tancred’s journey commenced on a restless night. She was among those who slept as the tempest struck the west coast of England late in the evening, her shoulder-length hair a black fan against the white of the pillow. The storm had filled its cavernous belly over the cold Atlantic, now raced across darkened fields, over Somerset county’s rolling hills and dales and creeks. Fingers of grey trailed from its murky belly. It gushed down upon forests and vineyards, olive orchards and isolated farm houses with black windows, and villages and towns with pale yellow strings of light far below.
June 2, 2014 — 2:54 AM
fadedglories says:
This is a cultural crit. really.
I live in Somerset, England and unless climate change has done something amazing your picture of the place is a bit off. We haven’t had any vineyards since Roman times, never any olives, our orchards have apples for cider. Oh and there aren’t any creeks or dales either.
These things don’t damage the story but they irritate the local yokels. Sorry.
June 2, 2014 — 8:42 AM
Conrad says:
Hi faded glory, I used to live in Somerset too, and yes, in the story the climate has done something amazing. Now, what bothers me is creeks and dales. What words would you use then?
June 2, 2014 — 9:58 AM
fadedglories says:
We have ‘rhynes’ pronounced ‘reens’ for most water courses, some bigger ones get called ‘Ditches’, they often lead into small rivers like the river Parrett.
‘Dales’ is Yorkshire. We have ‘Coombes’ if you mean steep sided valleys or ‘Gorges’ if vertically sided and rocky or just plain old valleys.
Does that help or hinder?
June 2, 2014 — 11:32 AM
Conrad Steenkamp says:
Sure, I would consider using those words to add local flavour. However, my primary thought would be whether the wider readership (which already extends beyond Somerset!) would understand. Will see. In the mean time, thanks for that. I know of a couple of vinyards, by the way, both near Ditcheat. Thety produce a fairly palatable white wine.
June 3, 2014 — 12:57 AM
Conrad says:
@fadedglories
I have checked the meanings of the words you gave. Combe will definitely be useful (a short valley or hollow on a hillside or coastline, especially in southern England); a rhyne, however, is ‘a drainage ditch, or canal, used to turn areas of wetlandat around sea level into useful pasture’, more what one would expect on the levels.
What however would be a good local English word (probably with gaelic roots, i might guess) for a creek (or a narrow, steep little valley with a rivulet at the bottom)? The word ‘creek’, as far as I can find out, obviously features strongly as an American english word, but is also used in the UK. Can you think of an alternative to this?
Would appreciate that. And thanks. This has been an interesting little exercise.
June 3, 2014 — 7:12 AM
fadedglories says:
I see that some other kind soul has already answered this question for you.
It is interesting checking up on arcane words and their meanings. If you want to use a word that was current in a particular period you have to dig for it, but your piece seems to be set in a near future? so possibly it matters far less. An uncommon choice of word can give colour or it can stick out like a sore thumb. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.
I’m currently struggling with C17 nautical terminology and sometimes wish I’d never started, but I know somebody will pick me up on the details if I don’t try and get it right.
Your paragraph is still a nice piece of writing whatever synonym you use.
June 3, 2014 — 9:26 AM
fadedglories says:
Ooops. It was you looked who it up not A.N. Other. Sorry.
June 3, 2014 — 9:33 AM
Conrad says:
Definition of Creek in the ‘British Dialect’, whatever that means: a narrow, winding passage or hidden recess. Synonyms: a brook, race, rindle, or rill. Do any of these ring a local bell? Wonderful when one starts looking, all the words with gaelic roots.
June 3, 2014 — 7:18 AM
Conrad says:
He, he… I was indeed the kind soul, fadedglories
June 3, 2014 — 9:56 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
My paragraph is a continuation of the last paragraph I submitted for critique (from my story, Shatterstone). And whilst my last paragraph was the opening paragraph of the whole story (much thanks to everyone who offered feedback!) this next paragraph is from the third chapter.
(Warning. It’s very long, so I’m considering breaking it up into 3 or 4 separate paragraphs. Just haven’t decided where to put the breaks yet)
After the News, he’d figured out how to operate the remote controller, and had spent some time channel surfing. Most of what was broadcast was rubbish; humans pretending to be other people, for the purpose of entertainment. And worse; humans pretending to be themselves, in what was termed ‘reality television.’ It was a concept Teyin just couldn’t grasp. He understood people wanting to pretend to be other things (knights, or jedi, or aliens, or princesses) because those things were outside the scope of average human experience, and being a human seemed, overall, very dull. People pretended to be other things to entertain themselves and others. But reality television… what was the point? Wasn’t there enough reality to deal with outside of the television? Why did people want to watch other people doing normal things like making breakfast and eating food and brushing their hair? There was absolutely nothing exciting about it. There were no computer-generated dragons to slay, no evil overlord plans to overthrow, not even a good old fashioned sword-fight. So, when he felt his intelligence slowly corroding away during exposure to the ‘reality television’, he changed the channel, and discovered the joys of game-shows, the purpose of which was to test the knowledge of mortals; a very worthwhile purpose, in his opinion. As The Host asked questions, he answered them aloud, and was pleased to discover he was better at knowledge of Earth than the some of its inhabitants. Most of them seemed to struggle with basic mathematics—something Teyin didn’t exactly excel in, but had a decent grasp of—and it appeared they couldn’t always remember knowledge they had read previously. But after a couple of hours, even the game-shows began to wear thin, so he surfed the channels once more and discovered something amazing. It was one of the television programs in which people pretended to be other people, but it was full of mystery and intrigue and was remarkably well-written. The show revolved around two humans who solved paranormal mysteries—most of which didn’t involve fairies, but that didn’t mean it was a bad show—and it was called X-Files. The heroes were two Agents called Mulder (he was a man, who bore a suspicious resemblance to Teyin’s Glamour) and Scully (a short woman with red hair), and the primary antagonist seemed to be a man who frequently put a little white stick in his mouth in an attempt to slowly commit suicide.
June 2, 2014 — 2:56 AM
T. Jane Berry says:
I like how you begin the paragraph referring to people as “humans,” then transition to “mortals,” which helps your narrator not repeat the same word over and over.
The “suspicious resemblance” of Mulder to Teyin’s Glamour—will that become useful information? Because when a narrator tells me that something is suspicious, I mentally note it for later. If it isn’t relevant to the plot at a later point, I’d consider changing the word to something else… perhaps a “remarkable” resemblance?
Great ending line about slowly committing suicide. What must smoking look like to outsiders to our culture!?
June 2, 2014 — 10:24 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Hmm. There’s nothing nefariously suspicious about the resemblance to Teyin’s Glamour, save for the fact that the Glamour he’s woven just happens to look like Fox Mulder Weird coincidence, really. “Remarkable” could be exchanged for ‘suspicious’ easily enough. How do you feel about “curious”? Does it set your spidey-sense a-tingling? If so, I’ll avoid such potential red herrings and just stick with ‘remarkable’ or perhaps ‘coincidental’.
Thanks for your feedback, it’s much appreciated!
June 2, 2014 — 1:29 PM
T. Jane Berry says:
I like “coincidental” too — it tells me that Teyin noticed the resemblance, but that I shouldn’t read too much into it.
June 2, 2014 — 1:46 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Coincidental it is — I’ll change it now.
Thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 2:15 PM
mhmoore says:
You need to get the hell out of my head. This reads exactly how I feel about tv, reality shows…oh pleeease, just kill me now and get it over with… I wanna be Leia, Tarzan, Sky King….or even BATMAN….damn I would read this. Not sure if you should break it up, up to you I suppose, but I am not one to be scare off by the length of a paragraph. Though I do know the more white space, the more often I will read something just for that Oh damn I got nothing to read day. On the other hand tighter writing, little white space is something I curl up with on one of those days when I want something really, really “good” to read. Yes! I used adjectives, get over it
June 2, 2014 — 11:12 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
We seem to be reading from the same brain-page, my thought-sharing chum. Batman is indeed the uber-coolest fictional character anybody could choose to be (as long as it’s not George Clooney’s Batman, ‘natch). I tried to get a Batman reference in there but I was afraid DC Comics might sue me for mentioning the nocturn knight.
I was considering splitting the wall o’ text up into three paragraphs; one describing Our Hero’s aversion to reality television, one to display his game-show prowess, and the other X-Files related goodness. Hopefully this will add a bit of white space without messing up the flow.
Cheers for your thoughts! (or my thoughts. I’m no longer sure whose thoughts I’m having)
June 2, 2014 — 1:36 PM
Smoph says:
Well said re: reality television. It is a bit of a wall of text, but the way it’s written, I think it gets around needing other paragraphs. I don’t think you need the quotes around the second reality television, you have reason with the first. Agree with the others, the last line is glorious. 🙂
June 5, 2014 — 1:32 AM
davidjmobrien says:
He’d started out believing she was a bitch, but he’d been wrong. She was tough, and proud, and had an image to maintain. She had been raised to maintain that image, and had created a shield to protect it. The shield yet held, but inside was a woman who was, as a result of this shield, he supposed, even softer and more delicate than others. She’d not had the pinpricks of love and failure to toughen her skin.
Danny had had his share of pinpricks – scissors and knife jabs sometimes. One of those stabs had come from the turned away shoulder of this lady he now held in his arms. He wondered one more time about asking her why she’d ignored him, but he knew he’d just be looking for affirmation. He wanted to hear her tell him he hadn’t been so bad in college, that she’d not thought him a juvenile cretin. But he had been, and she had, and no gentle lie now would change that. A man must become comfortable with his own younger self. At least until a time machine is invented that allows men to go back and give themselves a slap across the head. No doubt they’d still probably ignore their more learned selves, though.
June 2, 2014 — 3:36 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
I like how you say a lot in such short paragraphs, painting a clear picture of two very different characters who, under different circumstances, might have been good friends.
One thing, though. Are these two paragraphs of a larger work? Or are they the opening paragraphs of a story? It just sounds a bit like you’re trying to tell a whole tale here. I feel like I already know the deepest, darkest, most hidden nature of these characters, with a lot of ‘tell’ rather than ‘show’. For example, I’m seeing ‘her’ through Danny’s eyes, but I don’t know what events have occurred to lead him to his discovery of her shield and such.
“A man must become comfortable with his own younger self. At least until a time machine is invented that allows men to go back…”
I would find a way to link these two sentences, as they are not entirely independent. Perhaps an em-dash, comma or hyphen.
June 2, 2014 — 3:56 AM
davidjmobrien says:
Thanks for the comment. Yes, these are from the end of a novella when the events have taken place to bring the characters together despite former antagonism. I will join the two sentences at the end with an em-dash (if they survive the story’s current perusal by a submissions editor…).
June 2, 2014 — 4:15 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Ahh, that makes more sense! Your paragraphs work quite well as a summary.
June 2, 2014 — 4:34 AM
Conrad says:
An interesting piece. One definitely wants to know more about the story. However, allow me to focus on the superfluous words and unclear expression that hamper the flow of your words somewhat, from my own limited perspective of course.
Tense: past perfect a difficult form to use. One could slip into simple past to make things easier.
Use of commas in second sentence. That is Stroud and whatever compliant, but you could easily do away with them for a better flow.
The shield yet held: strange construction. Is it grammatically correct? Dunno.
,as a result of this shield, he supposed: clumsy construction. Perhaps move it to the end of the sentence?
the turned away shoulder of this lady he now held in his arms: somewhat clumsy construction.
He wondered one more time about asking: He often wondered (‘one more time’ is overused)
but he knew he’d just: in the subsidiary clause, you could drop the second ‘he’ for a smoother read
But he had been, and she had: unclear. I suggest – he had been one. Not sure what the ‘and she had’ means (i.e. she thought him one?)
A man must become comfortable with his own younger self: ‘own = superfluous.
No doubt they’d still probably ignore their more learned selves, though: probably is superfluous. The meaning is already reflected by ‘no doubt’. The though similarly feels superfluous.
Good luck!
June 3, 2014 — 7:05 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
This chapter represents a shift in tone away from my usual. The entire book is set from this character’s perspective, but in this form things are simpler, more concrete, so I’m trying to express that through shortened sentences. Definitely not my usual detailed way of writing.
The change rippled down his body, straining against the straps holding him down with an entirely new strength. The one wrapped so tightly against his neck creaked, complained, split, and finally started to unravel as the corded muscles in his neck strained with painful force. It gave way with an abrupt snap as the last fibers surrendered, finally letting Kushiel lift his head.
The process repeated itself with the straps that tried to hold back his biceps. One flex weakened the supposedly werewolf proof straps, a second snapped them free. Then it took only a quick jerk of his arms to unhinge the connection point of the straps from the table to free his wrists.
Kushiel flexed his hands, curling fingers now tipped with dangerously sharp claws that slid to their full extension. He took a moment to just roll his shoulders and let his essence slide into every corner of this new physical form. Settling into every muscle. Speaking to every nerve. Fully becoming the werewolf.
June 2, 2014 — 3:44 AM
William Grit says:
It would be cool if you described the room a little more.Plus I would like to see the face of the monster in my head (Weird?). It would also be nice to have this image of him biting down on something as he vibrates in his chair.
I want him to FREAK THE FUCK OUT. Fuck! (I’m not mad).
However, I did the best I can fam. I love you (is that weird?).I love all writers; you guys are family to me. Anyways. I hope I helped.
June 2, 2014 — 4:29 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
You’re right, the face is something I’m missing. It’s so hard to naturally fit it in there, though, since it is told from his perspective. It’s just weird to have a dude describing himself. What I can offer, however, is him looking at the face of another werewolf. Would that do?
The room gets a full treatment in previous paragraphs, and – yes – he absolutely does freak the fuck out shortly after this. XD There’s only so long you can maintain control, man!
June 2, 2014 — 4:33 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Whoa, if those are your stripped-down sentences, I can only imagine how long your usual descriptive sentences would be!
I love your descriptions, but the whole process seems very relaxed and tame. It’s like I’m here, watching the moment, instead of being there, feeling it. Could I offer a little advice?
Use some very short sentences to inject urgency and immediacy into what’s happening. You could use this to set the tone for the transformation (you’ve described the physical changes which occur to Kushiel, but not how he *feels* them). For example, consider something like:
“Pain. Stinging. Biting. Burning. The change rippled down his body. He thrashed against the leather straps which held him down.”
Similarly, you go on to say… “The one wrapped so tightly against his neck creaked, complained, split, and finally started to unravel as the corded muscles in his neck strained with painful force.”
Is there a way that you could *show* us that there’s painful force? “His vision swam grey and then red as his powerful neck muscles strained, and the leather creaked in response; the only complaint it offered before splitting and snapping entirely.” Or I dunno, something like that. It doesn’t have to be grey and red, or even his vision.
You have what I feel is a really good paragraph, it just lacks a little something to connect me to your character. It sounds like he’s going through some serious shit, and I’d like to go through it with him. Make me squirm with sympathetic pain. Uh, if that’s not too much trouble 😉
June 2, 2014 — 1:48 PM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
Oh yes please, offer advice. I’m having a hard time conveying those exact things. I’m not particularly interested in finishing this chapter because of the frustration that it’s not urgent enough and I’m being restrained. Probably only restraining myself in the end. But that’s why I posted it, I’m a bit stuck here.
Your advice is amazing, I’ll no doubt be using it to get myself back into the swing of writing.
I shall make my readers squirm! Oh yes! SQUIRM MY PRECIOUSES!
June 2, 2014 — 3:24 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
*Steeples fingertips together* Eeeeexcellent!
Something I realised during your explanation of your frustration, is that, as human beings, we (well, *you* — I am a space-person) try to remove ourselves from pain as much as possible. We get a niggle somewhere and we take a painkiller to make it go away. If pain lingers, we eventually see a doctor (even if we have to be nagged into it by someone who wants to help stop our pain). We don’t like hospitals because they’re places you go when you’re hurt, or sick, and we try to remove ourselves from death, too.
But your character isn’t human… not entirely. What if you could, in your head, switch off being human and instead imagine yourself as that werewolf? Allow yourself to feel his pain as he transforms, and then react to the heightened senses, the new ways of looking at things, and hearing things, and smelling things? And what if you write the wolfish side of your character in the same way? A lion and a gazelle wouldn’t tell the same story (if they could talk, or write. But y’know, lack of fingers is a bitch) and they wouldn’t use the same language to tell their stories.
And so I think it is with humans and werewolves. I *saw* the transition from man to werewolf, but I didn’t *feel* it. The second state did not seem all that different to the first, except for being a bit stronger and more muscular. But maybe that’s more development than your one paragraph needs; especially since you have a whole book to establish these things in!
Just my dollar ninety-five, anyway.
June 2, 2014 — 3:58 PM
CJ Jessop says:
Fal closed his fingers around the sphere and a strange melancholy surged through him, bringing a lump to his throat. His eyes blurred. The sheer power of the anguish captured his breath. If an inanimate object could have an aura, then this small artifact oozed despair. Instinct told him to leave well alone, but he picked it up anyway.
June 2, 2014 — 3:45 AM
Daniel Cortes says:
Only real critique I have would be a slight tweaking of the first few sentences.
Fal closed his fingers around the sphere, a strange melancholy surging through a him. Eyes blurring, lump in his throat, the sheer power of the anguish captured his breath.
That way just seems to put it more in the present to me, it is however just a humble suggestion.
Overall I enjoyed it. Good choice on where to end it, made me want to read more. I love characters who can’t resist ‘pushing the red button’ even when they know better.
June 2, 2014 — 4:30 AM
fadedglories says:
This is good. You just know there’s plenty of trouble ahead for any character who ignores common sense and does the stupid thing anyway.
I think I’d lose ‘the’ in front of ‘anguish’ and maybe change ‘captured’ to something stronger so the sentence might read ‘The sheer power of Anguish snatched his breath away.’
But Fal is definitely in deep shit.
June 2, 2014 — 5:18 AM
Radhika says:
Interesting! I’d definitely read more.
June 2, 2014 — 7:44 AM
asteros says:
They did not talk on the way back. He fidgeted and bit his lips and stared long at nothing in particular. He wanted to holler all the questions infesting his mind, but fear stitched his lips together. He chose to ignore; it was an entirely different concept than ignorance, for he had to work at it. At not asking – not daring to know more.
& because I just turned eighteen, I feel like I’m an entitled brat, hence, a second paragraph :3
Time froze to a standstill. He took out the cigarette from his mouth, clenched it between two fingers, and basked in the warmth of the smoke as it left his lips and nostrils. Cora shifted under the sheets, ambient orange city light through the window the only illumination. Dim red outlined the city buildings as the sun rose from behind them. Tyler wanted to see Cora better, would have liked to take a good, long, look at her heart shaped, expressive face, and large, brown eyes. Instead he just got the shape of her, angles and curves, and the unmistakeable shade of her unblemished hazelnut, dark, skin.
June 2, 2014 — 3:53 AM
Wendy Christopher says:
You can consider your extra paragraph a late eighteenth birthday present, how’s that? 😉
You’ve done a terrific job of setting the scene and creating a mood; as a reader, I’m already invested in the two characters and wanting to know more about them. I only have two nitpicks:
1) The first paragraph begins with “They did not talk on the way back.” This, for me, creates the idea that they’re moving, i.e. most likely walking, driving or something. But then in the second paragraph it says “Cora shifted under the sheets.” This transition is not signposted before then, so it reads as being impossibly sudden; are they travelling along in a bed with wheels on, or did they suddenly teleport from where they were to being in bed together? An extra sentence noting the process of the journey would be enough to clarify it, I think.
2) I think the last sentence would flow better if you chose either “unblemished hazelnut skin” or “unblemished dark skin.” I don’t think you need both – especially since I feel that ‘dark’ is darker than what I would imagine ‘hazelnut’ to be anyway. Unless you went with “unblemished, dark hazelnut skin’ of course – which I visualize as being something else, in between the first two options… I’m waffling now, but that’s just my opinion. Doesn’t mean I’m right, of course.
Other than that, this is a lovely paragraph, very evocative and full of character.
June 2, 2014 — 9:14 AM
asteros says:
Oh I’m so sorry! Yes they were driving. The thing is that the two scenes happen at two entirely different parts of the books. The latter happening much earlier. I am sorry for the confusion. And thanks for your lovely critique, you absolutely made my [b] day 😀
June 2, 2014 — 10:23 AM
Wendy Christopher says:
Aaaah.. I see! I wrote the first comment assuming the passages came straight after each other, as posted, in the book as well. In which case my comment is irrelevant, so feel free to discard. 🙂
And you’re very welcome. I hope you continue with this story – it’s lookin’ good already.
June 2, 2014 — 11:31 AM
William Grit says:
I want you to hit me as hard as you can
–Tyler
Go!
Samuel professional demeanor cracks, he pounds his palms on the tile floor like a gorilla that’s about to FUCK-UP a few humans. Samuel rolls like a Donkey Kong barrel. And springs in the air down the hall fist extended like it gives him wings. Repeat. Repeat. All the way down the hall, accompanied with jungle noises.
“I’m sorry“ Steve draws out his hand “Shall we” waving his phalanges down the hallway. I lead.
“Samuels not my psychiatrist, huh?”
June 2, 2014 — 4:11 AM
Wendy Christopher says:
I like the humour in this piece, and it’s definitely intrigued me!
I think it needs to be “Samuel professional demeanor cracks” at the beginning through. And… um, “waving his phalanges”?? I don’t think you want to use that – it sounds SO much like a dodgy euphemism! Put it this way, I had to look it up to clarify what it meant – or more accurately, that it DIDN’T mean what I first thought it meant. And you don’t wanna know what I first thought it meant..! I’m guessing you didn’t want to repeat the word ‘hand’ twice, but you could just put “waving down the hallway” instead, and we’d still know what you meant.
But you’ve got me interested now, that’s for sure. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 9:50 AM
Wendy Christopher says:
Urrrgh, my first correction didn’t show up ‘cos I used the wrong brackets, pesky internet, grumble moan… it was meant to say “Samuel( ‘s ) professional demeanor cracks.” Sorry. Hopefully that WILL show up.
June 2, 2014 — 9:53 AM
Daniel Cortes says:
“Easy there Balto, I come in peace,” said a young voice that could have easily belonged to a boy of ten; playful, full of curiosity and mischief. Holding out the back of its small hand for him to smell the creature stepped into the light. Meshing feline and simian characteristics, its slender body was wrapped in ink-black skin that gleamed with the slightly oily appearance of a snake. Thin limbs ended with a cross between hands and paws, four fingers on each hand and foot. Dexterous, nimble looking appendages they were tipped with small, sharp, light-gray claws that retracted like a cat’s. It’s spear tipped tail weaved lithely back and forth. The head resembled a bat with its huge ears, but a short muzzle ended the comparison as did the small, stubby horns, one over each red eye. A solitary wing flapped behind the right shoulder for a moment with the sound of leather on silk before folding against its back.
June 2, 2014 — 4:13 AM
Heather says:
“Holding out the back of its small hand for him to smell [comma] the creature stepped into the light.”
“its slender body was wrapped in ink-black skin that gleamed with the slightly oily appearance of a snake”– my favorite descriptors out of the whole thing.
Over all, I like it. The only other thing I could suggest to you is perhaps to break up and scatter all of these descriptors throughout the story instead of in one list-like paragraph. Strong writing enables the reader to know a characters traits without us even realizing the writer put all of it in there. However, this is not the case in all situations, so I can’t say for sure based off of only one paragraph. I would have been happy to read more. Rock on.
June 2, 2014 — 12:45 PM
Daniel Cortes says:
That’s a good tip, I will keep it in mind. Many thanks for the comment.
June 2, 2014 — 1:02 PM
NG Jones says:
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland)
I really like the build up and you really get the sense of power the Werewolf has/ is beginning to transform in to. I like your use of words they are descriptive and don’t feel forced and help the reader build a picture of what is happening in this short section.
Well done, you should be proud, I’m sure you’ve created a great story 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 4:22 AM
Garnet Belial (Naomi McFarland) says:
Thank you very much! Trying to flex my expression and play with the idea that it doesn’t always need to be this overly wordy, complicated sentence. See? There I go again.
June 2, 2014 — 4:39 AM
NG Jones says:
This was the second time it had happened. Barrack had received a message that would not please his superior the Lord Chancellor Elias Acker; Leader of the Galactic Federation Council, sole ruler of the Junto Galaxy. When he read the electronic message his heart plummeted like a large rock in deep water, his body sunk like a man with a heavy burden. He sat motionless in his white and black office as he contemplated his options. They were very limited. He had to tell Elias, it was just a matter of how. He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath to compose himself, then hauled his reluctant body from the comfortable safety of his chair.
June 2, 2014 — 4:23 AM
Kiara says:
A couple of questions here. Is this character a real formal type? With listing all his boss’ titles and the “electronic message”, I’m getting a vibe that this guy is pretty uptight. Is that what you’re aiming for? I’m really having a problem with electronic message. It seems like someone saying “electronic mail”. Humans like to abbreviate or use slang or just plain make up words. This makes me think your character is either super formal or not human. Not saying you have to use email, if this is an off world thing, but I would think about another term. “The el message”? Or just “the message on the screen”? Is it unusual for this world that the message would be electronic?
Maybe you could incorporate it into your very excellent stone in water imagery?
“The glow from the screen poured over him like deep water. He read. His heart plummeted like a boulder, his body a drowning burden.”
Just a thought. Grain of salt, ymmv, critique is not a law, etc.:-)
June 2, 2014 — 4:56 PM
Sakina says:
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Jack raises the knife, watching the dwindling sunlight leap upon its surface, kissing it lightly. His eyes, alight with the promise of danger, glint with a manic gleam that fascinates and terrifies Chloe simultaneously, who edges forward, in spite of herself. Before Chloe can do anything, he thrusts the knife into his flesh.
TO NG Jones:
I like that – it’s good and your choice of similes is gorgeous. However, I think you should try experimenting with short and long paragraph lengths – for example, the first sentence? You could put it in only one paragraph – just leave it for the reader to read as if it shocks them, you know? Also, you’re missing a few commas and there should be a colon after ‘superior’. But, on the whole, I like it – it’s different and intriguing.
June 2, 2014 — 4:28 AM
NG Jones says:
Thank you for your comments.
I will look at the length of my paragraphs and comma usage and play around with a few things.
June 2, 2014 — 10:20 AM
Kiara says:
I noticed this one kind of got lost in the shuffle so here I am! I LOVE the dwindling sunlight making out with the steel here. Wonderful image! (Or maybe I just like sharp things.) Is it the manic gleam that fascinates Chloe? Is there a reason for her not to be afraid for her own safety here? Because honestly, if some dude’s waving a knife at me, I don’t care how intriguing his manic is, I’m gonna be G’ing TFO of there, if you know what I mean. As a side note, “before [she] can do anything” feels a little flat. Whatever the anything is could be a real character building opportunity, even if she doesn’t get to complete the motion! Does she tense to run? Try to grab the knife? Open her mouth to scream or snort that he’d never have the guts to do it?
June 2, 2014 — 5:06 PM
Sakina says:
Thanks so much for replying – yeah, mine got really lost.
Yeah, the manic gleam is the thing that sort of terrifies her and intrigues her – it’s a combination of pure insanity and excitement that would actually make a normal person sit up and take notice, you know?
Right. Yeah, you’re totally right – she’d probably open her mouth to scream even more…
Thank you so much for helping me out! 😀
June 3, 2014 — 7:17 AM
fadedglories says:
‘Kay here goes:
First draft, second chapter. My young hero is learning to be a Government agent in Tudor England.
How does it read?
“They rode North without discussing anything. Poley had only told Alan their direction and had scarcely spoken since; this didn’t bother Alan at all. He’d been twice before on short missions with Poley and knew he was required to keep as quiet and near invisible as possible, but to watch, listen and remember. Later Poley would question him, pay him and send him home. Alan surmised there was an element of testing in Poley’s questions as he generally seemed to know the answer before Alan had given it, but last time Alan had reported some snippet that caught Poley’s interest; perhaps this venture was another test, perhaps not. Alan was naturally inclined to say little unless he’d something worth saying so was content to ride in silence. They stopped eventually somewhere north of Oxford at a large Inn. The place was busy and the pair would arouse no curiousity when they asked for food and lodgings. Poley spoke to Alan at last to say ‘Take the horses into the stable, see to them in case we leave early, then meet me in the public room.’ When he returned Poley was seated at a table with a jug of wine before him and a loaf that he was tearing into chunks. He indicated that Alan should sit and said loudly ‘We’ve beef coming, wine for me and some ale for you my boy.’ Then he put his hand on Alan’s arm and patted it. Leaning across Alan in an intimate pose he whispered ‘You’re my servant and my bed-mate too so far as this place is concerned. Don’t act squeamish or we’re both dead.’ Alan smiled and lowered his eyes, he was unnerved by Poley’s words but his action made him appear shy of the older man. If Poley were testing him now that was fine, but he fervently hoped this didn’t mark some new turn in their relationship.
The food arrived and the ale that Alan needed badly. He took a long draught of his mug, belched and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Poley gave him a look of amused disgust.
When the meal was eaten Poley reached for Alan’s hand across the table and squeezed it. Alan gave him a cautious smile.
‘I think you must be the gentleman we’re expecting ‘ said a voice behind Alan. Poley let go of Alan and looked up in apparent surprise.’ ‘Am I Sir?’
‘You fit the description, both of you. Come and join us in the booth where we can talk, you can bring the lad if you’re afraid someone will steal him.’ “
June 2, 2014 — 4:30 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
This sounds very promising indeed – your young hero sounds like he’s in for a world of cloak-and-dagger adventure!
Just some minor observations:
“The food arrived and the ale that Alan needed badly.” sounds slight awkward. Perhaps “The food arrived, so did the ale that Alan needed badly.”
‘Am I Sir?’ might need a comma, as in “Am I, Sir?”
June 2, 2014 — 12:00 PM
fadedglories says:
Thank you, you’re very kind.
June 2, 2014 — 1:00 PM
Scott Roche says:
Show us a little more about how Alan feels. Is he nervous? Anxious? Is he sweating?
I do like the situation you’ve put them in. It could definitely result in some discomfort for the protag.
June 3, 2014 — 10:28 AM
fadedglories says:
Thanks for your comments. Re-reading it over myself you’re right that Alan’s feelings should be shown somehow.
In the next section I have him fretting over an insult from Poley, but it needs something here too.
June 3, 2014 — 1:45 PM
Daniel Cortes says:
Teeth snapped shut on the flesh of his right cheek, just below his eye. Dean screamed as it was torn away; along with his control. His back bowed until it seemed he would snap himself in half backwards. Dark red hair sprouted all over his body; nails thickening into claws. The hand that had been trying to hold off his assailant now tore through the collarbone ripping away part of the neck and most of a pectoral. Right arm now free, Dean shoved the man away, sending him flying to crash and roll down the unyielding steps of the escalator.
Rolling onto his knees, spine contorting, shoulders hunched, Dean’s breath came in panicked gasps as he tried to regain control, to stop the change. The pressure in his veins increased until he felt sure he would explode.
“No, no, no, no, n-” Dean begged, holding his hands in front of his face watching as the joints popped out and in, the clawed digits shortening. His pleas cut off abruptly by a snap from the bridge of his nose and turned into a shriek of pain as his face began lengthening into a muzzle, eyes retreating under a protruding brow, fangs jutting down from torn, bleeding gums. The sound of his clothes tearing drowned out by the crack of bone and pop of sinew and cartilage. His insides felt molten and he curled into the fetal position while his organs shifted; the pain so intense it blinded him. At its peak, nerve endings shrieking like souls in hell, his throat seized, choking off his cries.
The reshaping of his body, torturous beyond imagining, was not unfamiliar. This was what he had spent so many years fighting, tried so hard to bury and forget. Agony unlike any before, even the first time, clawed its way through his body. As if the animal within was taking revenge for being locked up. Imprisoned for so long within his mind.
June 2, 2014 — 5:00 AM
fadedglories says:
I’m kinda speechless. That must rank as the best description I’ve ever read of a human metamorphosing into a were-animal. It hurt to read it.
It gave me a feeling of pity for Dean which surprised me and it scared the Hell out of me too.
June 2, 2014 — 8:24 AM
Daniel Cortes says:
One fear of mine (As I’m sure it is with many writers.) is that people will not get what you going for while writing. I nearly squeed when I read your comment, thank you so much.
June 2, 2014 — 1:20 PM
cajetane says:
Great action sequence! I felt everything – ooh! Ouch! Ewww! Gross! Riveting. Third sentence – a little awkward, maybe: ‘His back bowed irresistibly, forcing his head towards his heels until it seemed he would snap in half’. I would add ‘…now tore through the man’s collarbone, ripping…’ then replace the man with ‘him’ in the next sentence, to make it clear who’s collarbone was being ripped. The use of the phrase ‘was not unfamiliar’ seemed out of place, too cool and considered and kind of scholarly for the hellish situation. Maybe ‘horribly familiar’? But overall so strong, huge impact with the imagery.
June 2, 2014 — 11:56 AM
Daniel Cortes says:
Thank you for the comments I will definitely keep that in mind. As soon as I can stop smiling after your enthusiastic response.
June 2, 2014 — 1:08 PM
Blue Cole says:
Abigail perched on her toes, carefully watching her father. He was talking to Mom, discussing something about her job at the new hospital. Boring adult stuff, she was sure. She nudged her brother, Aaron, who was lost in his stack of baseball cards.
June 2, 2014 — 6:09 AM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
I like it. You immediately know she is a child, just by “perched on her toes” and even though she says’ they are talking about boring adult stuff, you get the impression that whatever they are talking about is important. I would be interested in reading further to find out what is going on.
June 2, 2014 — 11:53 AM
Don Robishaw says:
Bending and exercising their elbows while drinking the best beer in Asia, two men who had their civil rights violated by a private Thought Control Group plan for The Summit at the Tavern. Two women and four men in all, make up — The Council of Six. Could that be the old Rice Mill Tavern in Ba’ta’an (short a)?
“Well, not exactly Margaritaville in Key Largo.”
“Nor Rick’s Cafe in Jamaica mon.”
“Similar to those old hole in the walls I usually ended up in during my time on the road.”
“I like the place, cause this old hole in the wall served as a spy headquarters during World War Two. How about you mate?”
“I’ve spent many an hour riding that hand-woven hammock on the front porch.”
June 2, 2014 — 6:36 AM
hannahgivens says:
I’m interested! I did have to read the whole thing a few times to actually grasp the content, since there are a lot of characters without names or dialogue attributions. So, not necessarily a bad thing if that’s what you’re going for, but something of which to be aware. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 8:16 PM
Heather says:
Ugh! I know I need the practice – but this is the shark tank! This is my intro for my bank robbery – the first of my 3 main characters. This is my blow through so …(me laying down in the middle of the highway) I’m ready..LOL
My name is Olivia, no – that’s a lie, I don’t want to start off my story like that.
My real name is Sophia Giovanni, yeah Italian can you tell? When I was 4 my parents renamed me Olivia Barnes, sounds as bad as June Smith to me. To better explain the name change let me introduce my parents, sitting to my left and staring off into space is my father Luka, now Luke and sitting to my right is my beautiful mother Katerina, now Kate. You see where this is going? Italian family shedding its heritage the minute my parents hit US soil. Italian hippies … not something you hear of everyday, or year – or well maybe even ever. I wasn’t born and raised in the 70’s – but my parents’ were. As a result I have suffered their trying to fit in with whole American ideal, baseball, hotdogs, bowling. I grew up as Olivia but deep down in my soul I always felt like someone else. Split… never fully Olivia and never fully Sophia. I firmly believe if my fellow Italian country men had known what my parents were going to name me when they reached America, I’m sure they would have taken me away from them, and labeled them unfit and in need of supervision.
June 2, 2014 — 7:04 AM
mikes75 says:
I like the setup you’re going for, but I think the conversational style and asides get in the way. It distracts and distances. You can get across the sass you’re going for with the narrator from her narration. The asides feel like you’re insisting the reader pay attention to you, which feels intrusive. They’re already reading your story, breaking the rhythm to check in makes it seem like you think you can’t hold their attention with the story itself. Look at the paragraph without addressing the audience and see what you think:
June 2, 2014 — 9:55 AM
Heather says:
Thank You So Much Mike! I know what it is I’m trying to say – and the set up always makes me feel like I’m walking on logs. I haven’t gotten my stride yet. You just polished a turd and you have taught me so much ! Thank You ! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 11:11 AM
tracikenworth says:
LOVE this voice. After American ideal, add :
June 2, 2014 — 8:56 PM
Tish Els says:
Behind a large beam, I see a battered and bleeding Puella, desperately trying to free herself. Her head is nearly covered by water, as it gushes in from all directions. “Puella!” I shove the beam with all my might and inch it just enough for her to gulp a breath of air. “Push Puella! Push!” Together we manage to slide it off her just in time, but then I see the damage it had done. Her arm is badly bruised and bleeding from a cut. “Are you okay?” “Yes. We need to move upstairs, onto the roof. Come child, hurry. Don’t make a sound.” She grabs my hand and begins pulling me up the stairs. She is still trying to protect me from some being I have no knowledge of, when, in reality she is the one who is frail and in need of protecting. Where is Almant? Did he drown when the wave hit? The water is just starting to swell upwards towards the second level and we wade through the flood waters until we reach Bulla’s bedroom window. “We must find Bulla or Felem at once. He’s here and I can’t move you alone.” “Who’s here? Foscor?” She whips around violently and covers my mouth with her hand. “Don’t say his name.”
June 2, 2014 — 7:06 AM
Heather says:
Maybe start out with water level rising – you mention having to be quiet , but she yells – maybe you could have her say ‘ Puella, look at me, I need you to focus I need you to help mommy(or whoever this is). Putting your finger up in a hushed sign. I like this though – I’d keep reading.
June 2, 2014 — 7:24 AM
Shane Vaughan says:
The opening paragraph of something I’m working on.
“It’s a damn cold day for talking shite. I’ve got a hangover like my ex has been bitching all night, I can’t shit for the life of me, and my throat feels like I licked a cat’s litter box—couple more cigarettes should do the job. Cigarettes and cheap, sticky coffee: black, with a dash of Jack Daniels for good measure.”
June 2, 2014 — 8:06 AM
Rose Red says:
The Jack should cut the stickiness a bit. I like it- it speaks to the noir in my soul. The only thing I would change would be ‘shit’ for ‘shite’.
June 2, 2014 — 9:09 AM
Shane Vaughan says:
True about the stickiness. As for shite, I’m Irish so that’s the Irishness coming out in me; it’s a favourite word over here. ^^ But I may think abut changing that. Thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 12:01 PM
Rose Red says:
Ah, see there is something to learn every day. I thought it was an internet-ism. ^_^
June 2, 2014 — 4:23 PM
Pete says:
From my novel, GRIMREAPER.COM.
They left the office and headed back towards the control room, walking in silence as Alex considered The Truth, According to Dave. There was no doubt that Tom had crossed a line and no one could really blame them if they decided to sack him. But what if Dave was right? What if they got rid of Tom, only to discover that they’d inadvertently jettisoned their mojo in the process? Alex had no doubt that, as a live act, his band was an outstanding proposition. He didn’t need Dave to tell him what he already knew. After ten years of playing together, Grace of State were as tight as a shark’s arse and they rocked like a caveman’s party. He also knew that sometimes—perhaps when the planets were perfectly aligned, or at moments when the Gods of Rock chose to favour them—something extraordinary happened. And in those moments, they were truly alchemists. But where the seekers of old had failed with straw and copper and fire, Grace of State took wood and steel and electricity and, somehow, managed to conjure an elixir of sonic gold. But it didn’t happen every time they picked up their instruments. Oh, no. Like any other band, they had their off-days. And on those rare occasions when one of them happened to be missing, a hole would appear; a dark gaping chasm, so vast, it simply could not be plugged by the missing instrument alone.
June 2, 2014 — 8:20 AM
Heather says:
Aside from grammatical errors, easy fix. Hey, I’m still learning also! I like the way you compare the bands sound to, ‘alchemists’. Very cool how just one missing link breaks the whole chain. Nice – Sorry it went down one ! LOL!
June 2, 2014 — 8:46 AM
Alecia Miller says:
From YA WIP – working title No-See-Ums
Meg tried to focus on the walk, just one foot after the other. Her heart was pounding and her palms so sweaty she had to keep wiping them on her jeans. As she turned the last corner, she could see the high school down the road and the increased traffic flow of other kids. She shifted her messenger bag on her shoulder and tried to put on a brave face. Hilo sat on her bag, one of his little hands clinging to the strap that went across her back. She was determined to ignore him today and try to seem normal; to ignore all of them.
Meg took a deep breath as she continued down the block. All the small homes lined up nice and neat. Cars pulling out as the inhabitants drove off to work. A women flipping up the flag as she left bills to be picked up. A man walking his dog. An old woman, leaning on the railing as she pulled dead heads off her azalea bushes. A bumper stood next to her, but something was off. The woman had a tight grip on the rail. She was used to losing her balance, tripping over nothing. Meg always felt bad for those plagued by bumpers. Something about certain people just made the bumpers grow attached to them. For the most part they are not malicious, more like a pet cat that is constantly underfoot, but much bigger. Kind of like a cross between a rabbit and a bear that always wants to snuggle. But this one didn’t look that loving. Its eyes flashed as it glanced around, tongue hanging out of its mouth, drool matting down the fur and dripping unseen to the pavement and grass.
June 2, 2014 — 8:42 AM
Anthony Laffan says:
I assume this is an early draft, and I’m not the one to go off on mechanics but you have a lot of tense issues between the two parts (first is almost all past tense, second has a lot of present tense) which I only mention because it is distracting.
Secondly, I think this could be made a lot tighter if you went through and found words that could be omitted. For example you specifically mention that the bag is a messenger bag, but then later clarify that Hilo has his hand on the strap that goes around Meg’s back. One of those details can be tossed because a messenger bag, by default, only has one strap for Hilo to hold onto. Essentially you are telling the audience the same thing twice.
Third, I’ve been finding in my own writing that the word ‘just’ is a lot like the word ‘very’ and can almost always make the sentence stronger by cutting it out.
Context is hard to determine because this seems to be right in the middle of things. I really like you showing me Meg’s nervousness (pounding heart, sweaty hands, constantly wiping them on her jeans) and it seems like it could build into an interesting situation. I’m curious about what Hilo is and what a “Bumper” is. It looks like an interesting story just in need of some mechanical clean up as you go through on additional passes. Then again, what story doesn’t need those things?
June 2, 2014 — 9:23 AM
Alecia Miller says:
Thanks for the great feedback.
Yes, this is an early draft. I always need to go back and fix tenses (don’t know why my head can’t keep them straight when I write!)
As far as context goes, this is Meg’s first day at a new school. This is the start of the story as well, so it looks like I need some tweaking to get that established.
June 2, 2014 — 9:54 AM
Heather says:
Aside from grammatical errors, easy fix. Hey, I’m still learning also! I like the way you compare the bands sound to, ‘alchemists’. Very cool how just one missing link breaks the whole chain. Nice –
June 2, 2014 — 8:44 AM
Anthony Laffan says:
For context this is from a short (might turn into a full length) story. The main character’s name is Ailia and she’s just been ripped out into the void of space by a malfunctioning airlock. It’s more or less a first draft paragraph (Chuck did say current WIP) so I’m sorry for any obvious grammatical errors.
Paragraph:
She didn’t get a second chance. Ailia’s world spun as the stars, ship, and Rim all raced out of sight at a speed that could only be matched by how quickly they came back into view. Her breath came in quick shallow gasps. She tried to turn her head to keep something, anything, in view as a reference point to no avail. Her stomach clenched and heaved wracking her inside with pain as she proved unable to throw up food that wasn’t actually in her stomach. Through it all the suit’s HUD continued to flash in alarm and warning that it had no ability to gain control of the spin.
June 2, 2014 — 9:03 AM
T. Jane Berry says:
A mark of good writing — which is this — is that the words sail past leaving only the images behind. This did it for me. I was right there in space, not hanging up on any awkward phrases or distracting words. The only thing I’d tighten up, and it’s minor, is I’d take out “wracking her inside with pain” and keep the fast pace of the action going. Very nice.
June 2, 2014 — 10:42 AM
Anthony Laffan says:
lose wracking with pain and what comes after or just the pain part? i.e.
“Her stomach clenched and heaved.” vs. say..”Her empty stomach clenched and heaved” to convey the dry heaves and thus implying pain.
June 2, 2014 — 4:09 PM
Rose Red says:
What’s in a name? He had never liked his name. It sounded like a boy’s name with no solid, huge name behind it. William was Bill. Samuel was Sam. To him, Peter already sounded like a boy. It was a good reason to keep acting like one, she would say, if she were asked. He didn’t ask. He didn’t even give her a warning. Peter R. Salivarius packed up his Silverado, patted the dog’s head, and left the kids with the grandparents, a full refrigerator, and a full liquor cabinet for Grandpa Oscar. He got into his truck at daylight and saw the sun come up in his rear view mirror about ten miles out of town. California. L.A. Why? Because he needed a destination, and his buddy Ray was out there. Ray, short for Raymond. He was the only friend from high school that Peter still talked to. At 37 with a school reunion looming the following year and a tiny bald spot that made his forehead higher, he had to do something.
June 2, 2014 — 9:07 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
This sounds intriguing – like the start of a story about premature Mid-Life Crisis. I also like the subtle reference to Peter Pan.
Just a small suggestion: Perhaps consider splitting the paragraph into two with the second paragraph starting at “He got into his truck at daylight…” It could well be my personal preference rearing its head but short paragraphs are easier to digest.
June 2, 2014 — 10:11 AM
Rose Red says:
Thanks. That’s exactly what it is. I never thought about splitting up that paragraph. Thank you for the suggestion.
June 2, 2014 — 11:47 AM
mikes75 says:
You should say who “she” is: “[name] would say, if she were asked.” It’s odd for a paragraph focusing on names to leave that one unnamed.
“Peter R. Salivarius packed up his Silverado, patted the dog’s head, and left the kids with the grandparents, a full refrigerator, and a full liquor cabinet for Grandpa Oscar.” should be broken up, there are too many ideas strung together. The run-on after the clipped earlier sentences feels awkward. Conversely “Ray, short for Raymond. He was the only friend from high school that Peter still talked to.” (I think) would be more effective as a sentence, with “short for Raymond” put between dashes as the third, inverted occurrence of the earlier examples. “Ray – short for Raymond – was the only friend from high school Peter still talked to.”
One additional nitpicking thing: a bald spot usually appears on the crown of the head, a steadily receding hairline would make his forehead higher.
June 2, 2014 — 10:12 AM
Rose Red says:
In my manuscript, ‘she’ was italicized to give her meaning. I’ll reread it and think that over. The dismissal of her name for me was to do what he was doing. His focus is on getting away quickly, without thought to who he is hurting. He has to face that later, and then she gets a name.
I wasn’t sure if that sentence with Grandpa Oscar was awkward, so that is very helpful feedback. I will find another way to say it so the list of things are congruent. Thanks.
June 2, 2014 — 11:49 AM
mikes75 says:
“Her best dates were with men who talked about themselves easily; who liked having someone listen to them. She gravitated towards guys who didn’t need a lot of watering and who didn’t expect much from her. Nick was a nice guy, but part of what had made talking to him easy the other night was the oblique way she’d walked into that conversation. Her track record with guys when they sat face to face for the sole purpose of interacting with each other was weak, and Kim couldn’t let go of the idea a big part of that weakness was on her.”
June 2, 2014 — 9:26 AM
cm0 says:
I like the first couple sentences. I don’t like the last one. I feel like some of this could be shown more, told less. Give me an example of this poor track record, not just a sentence describing it!
June 2, 2014 — 10:31 AM
mikes75 says:
I’ve been leaning that way, I was worried about pacing, but yeah, I definitely need to show more at the end. Thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 11:00 AM
Anthony Laffan says:
Maybe something like “Her track record with guys when they sat face to face for the sole purpose of interacting with each other amounted to bored looks, frequent time checks, and not even curiosity about the chance for ‘coffee’ at the end of the evening.”
It is still a sentence but it gives us more an idea of things going on and an apparent lack of interest on the part of the other parties.
June 2, 2014 — 11:13 PM
maycontainevil says:
In the long days after, Mickey did a lot of walking. He went south, all the way down to London on the deserted B656, then on to Dover: he’d once seen an advert on a train platform – THE WHITE CLIFFS BECKON YOU – that had sufficiently intrigued him. And why not? It seemed a normal sort of thing to stare over the edge of everything and smell the sea-salt air.
Dawn was breaking when he arrived, and stained the water with vast strokes of orange, red, and purple. He took a seat on the verge, turned a bit of grass into a whistle, and stretched out to look at the glowing sky. It was nice. He felt warm through to his core. And part of him – the part, he reasoned, that had once been connected to vast intergalactic hive consciousness – wished that he had someone to share the moment with. Or to at least have a laugh: a guy in tatty Wellingtons had sat down twenty meters away and unpacked a microphone and wind-up radio transmitter from a cardboard box.
“Calais, come in Calais. This is Dover 29, over,” he droned. “Calais, come in Calais…”
Mickey did laugh, but there wasn’t much mirth in it. He mostly watched the guy fiddle with his dials and knobs, and when the guy left, he simply looked out at the water.
Then he began to make his way back home.
June 2, 2014 — 9:31 AM
fadedglories says:
“In the long days after” some civilisation smashing event I’m guessing?
I liked Mickey immediately. I like the way he travels by impulse.
I like that he seems ok with his situation even though it looks fairly dire.
The loss of ‘a’ or ‘the “vast intergalactic hive consciousness” doesn’t seem to faze him either, so he’s either off his rocker or superbly well-adjusted.
I’d like to read more and find out please.
June 2, 2014 — 11:16 AM
maycontainevil says:
I appreciate your feedback!
June 2, 2014 — 1:27 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
From the same sci-fi W-I-P as the last time I posted a paragraph for critique – but not the same paragraph, obviously. That would be lazy of me. 😉
‘Out of the corner of my eye I see more people coming in and then everything is a blur of movement and chaos. I can’t tell what’s happening anymore; the room feels like it’s spinning. I think I see a flash of a white coat beside me – and then a pair of arms slides under my shoulders. And now there’s a sound like someone screaming, over and over…
I think that’s me.’
June 2, 2014 — 9:32 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
I am taking a deep breath and presenting the opening paragraphs from my first ever novel. I’ve never done this in public before but what the hell – have at it Peoples of Chuck Wendig’s Blog:
“Cook knew that something or someone was coming.
She knew it when the chickens she and the pigheaded kitchen girl were slaughtering this morning refused to die. They stumbled about drunkenly, their slit-through necks flopping, blood running down their necks, backs and breasts in rivulets and colouring the ground with splashes of bright red. Even when she and the pigheaded kitchen girl ran after them, chopping off their heads completely, they still refused to settle down and die for another couple of hours.
She knew it when the bread dough refused to rise, the cakes sank when extracted from the oven, and the milk declined to curdle no matter how much lemon juice she squeezed in.
She knew it as the bottom of the stew she was stirring began to burn even though the fire was at its lowest and gentlest, and the jelly for dessert refused to set and she had to throw it away and start over again.
She knew it when the wine cellar door refused to close, swinging open even after it has been locked shut umpteen times; when the pots kept on rearranging themselves even after the kitchen boys had meticulously washed, dried and arranged them.
When the rain came, first as big wet globules exploding on the roofs of Loveless Hall; then knitting-needle-like, drumming down in staccato beats; then finally pouring down in a never-ending torrent throughout the afternoon without any wind, thunder or lightning, Cook gripped the handle of her favourite chopping knife she was using to mince the herbs until her knuckles ran white.
Someone or something was coming to Loveless Hall—to The Family. Was it a person? Was it luck? Was it disaster? Was it a curse or a blessing? Whatever it was, Cook knew that this was one of the worst times for anything or anyone to come to Loveless Hall. Not when there’s a Family Reunion about to begin. No. Anyone who knew better would not come to Loveless Hall tonight.”
June 2, 2014 — 9:46 AM
mikes75 says:
Very intriguing! The paragraph starting “When the rain came…” would work better if it ended on “thunder and lightning” and the line about Cook started the next para, I think. It’d maintain the single sentence structure of the “She knew it…” paragraphs. Plus the image of her gripping her knife at the start of a paragraph that ends on a warning has more impact.
June 2, 2014 — 10:24 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
Thanks! I’ll try splitting the paragraph as suggested.
It needs some tightening up still, I think but hopefully I’m on the right track! 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 10:43 AM
fadedglories says:
Very nice opener. Lots of tension, lots of weird, leading to lottsa questions. Now I have to know who or what is coming and what kind of family is this where a reunion is anticipated with dread.
Have you written more? I do hope so.
One teensy weensy niggle: “until her knuckles ran white.” jars with me because it doesn’t read right. If Cook is that tensed up it’s not remarkable that her fist is clenched on her knife unless she cuts herself with it. S’what I think.
June 2, 2014 — 11:23 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
Thanks for the kind words and the observation. Will think of an alternative as I refine it (this is an early draft).
At this point, I’ve a whole pile of scenes and have been world-building like crazy. The Loveless Family is a real piece of work. And they are not the only ones.
June 2, 2014 — 11:34 AM
claudiacv says:
This is sooo good! I so want to buy this book! Please, more. Great description, love the Loveless name, very mysterious and yet you completely agree with the main character from the beginning. Something must be blowing in the wind! And the description of the chickens was awesome.
June 2, 2014 — 4:01 PM
A Citizen of the World says:
Thanks so much for your kind words! I’m working on getting the first draft done by the end of this year *fingers crossed*
Ah but here’s the kicker – Cook isn’t the main character. We’re getting it from her POV because she is the first person in the household to meet the main character and her POV as the longest-serving household staff is pivotal in providing a glimpse of what’s coming.
June 2, 2014 — 7:52 PM
claudiacv says:
Shame, Cook is a great character I could learn to love. Alas. I´ve read timea nd again at agent´s blogs that this is a no-no, but I´ve seen it happen in books–starting your story with a character that is not the MC I mean. What´s your take on this? Cause I´ve got something of my own that starts with minor characters that serve to pull you into the story, just like Cook.
I love your voice, by the way.
June 3, 2014 — 3:08 PM
Scott Roche says:
I did some side Character POV in mine and took it out. Both my beta readers thought it was much better to keep POV to the main characters. That may be because the side characters kept getting killed.
June 3, 2014 — 3:20 PM
claudiacv says:
Thanks for your insight. Good to know. Well, the killing hasn´t been a problem with Game of Thrones! Good luck with your work.
June 4, 2014 — 11:33 AM
A Citizen of the World says:
I am blushing right now – thank you humbly re your compliment re my writing voice. It’s taken me a good 15 years to pull together the shards of the story that’s been swirling around my head and heart. I’m finally ready to write it out and share it with the world. So it’s nerve-wrecking.
For my novel (which is a YA story), I see Cook as being part of the larger organic setting because – without giving too much away ‘cos who likes spoilers, yes? – this is a story about (semi) sentient haunted houses and their households and the families and people connected to them. So in a sense, I’m starting the story by setting up the setting, except that they setting includes people that are organically and intrinsically connected with the house, and household staff *are* part and parcel of these haunted houses. Her POV is, by proxy, the POV of Loveless Hall.
June 3, 2014 — 11:13 PM
A Citizen of the World says:
@Scott Roche: Well, Cook doesn’t die or get killed – she’s survived much worse during her long loooooong history of service to Loveless Hall, its family, and its denizens. Her history, however, puts her in an ideal position to be the first one to meet the protagonist because she’s a proxy for Loveless Hall itself 🙂
June 3, 2014 — 11:19 PM
Shae Connor says:
The dessert course is where the trouble started.
Marcus brought apple pie, but not just any apple pie, oh no. From the oven, where it had warmed while they ate, he produced a latticework-topped miracle, oozing with juice and smelling like cinnamon heaven. He’d picked up a half-gallon of high-end French vanilla ice cream to go with, and when he set his offerings on the table and everyone ooed and ahhed in admiration, Wil almost didn’t want to break out his dessert. How could cold pumpkin and spray-on cream measure up?
Wil served his pie and toppings anyway, but as he’d expected, everyone filled up on appley goodness. Rob, as host, and Marc, probably feeling bad at stealing the sweet spotlight, had each taken a small slice and made the appropriate yummy noises, but everyone else begged off as too full. When Wil headed home, along with a plate of turkey, potatoes, and veggies, he left with one complete, untouched pumpkin pie and the unopened container of whipped topping. He didn’t even care what happened to the rest of the leftovers. Let Rob feed it to his dog, for all he cared.
June 2, 2014 — 10:01 AM
Jana Denardo says:
The hurt feelings come across very well. While there is some missing context here of course as to the dynamics between Rob, Marc and Wil, I did like it.
Rob, as host, and Marc, probably feeling bad at stealing the sweet spotlight, had each taken a small slice and made the appropriate yummy noises, but everyone else begged off as too full. – This sentence made it sound like they took a bit of Wil’s pie but he leaves with a whole pie.
June 2, 2014 — 10:38 AM
Shae Connor says:
I would probably cut the opening phrase, “the streets moved by and.” I know it’s pedantic, but the streets weren’t moving. 🙂 “The carriage jostled on cobbled streets” reads more strongly anyway, I think. Otherwise, I think it’s a great description of setting. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 10:05 AM
Shae Connor says:
Dangit, my comment didn’t show up where it’s supposed to be. It should be under Steve Barclay’s paragraph. (And yes, nerds, I did click on the “reply” under his name!)
June 2, 2014 — 10:07 AM
Anastasia says:
A bit more than a paragraph, for context’s sake:
I crouch down beside him, trying to quiet my own avarice. Chris looks up at me, blinking away the blood around his eyes. This is probably the clearest he will ever see me. “I’m sorry Chris, but you can’t make it in this city, and I’m afraid you’re not going to make it through this either.”
He starts vomiting on his apartment’s cheap carpeting. It looks like an aneurysm, which means he’s in for a rough few minutes. I rub his back and lean in to whisper in his ear while reaching inside my jacket.
“Look, what I’m going to do for your living self is a kindness. But I understand if you don’t thank me.” My hunting knife slips easily out of its sheath. My other senses can feel the last ties of his spirit fraying thread by thread. One thrust embeds my knife deep in his chest plate, stopping his heart and his pain. Simultaneously I reach out to grab his spirit as it flickers away. But it slips through the barrier I put up like it doesn’t exist. Frantically, I reach at it again. One more barrier, two more. I create a sticky net of power to ensnare Chris’s spirit but it ignores them all. And just like that, it’s gone. Gone from my reach, gone forever.
I sit back on my heels, rolling the hunting knife around in one hand. So, Maelik found me again. About time.
June 2, 2014 — 10:19 AM
cajetane says:
Hmmm! Intriguing! Dialogue rings true, imagery is very clean and clear, pacing and build up of tension is so well controlled and you totally caught my attention with that net of power business. I would love to read this one 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 12:04 PM