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.
Andrew says:
For context this is a piece of short fiction I am working on:
Chip stared at his brother, and much like every other time he came over, the vision of Randy stood in stark contrast to the reality of Randy. Silence descended on the both of them, and Randy chose the opportunity to chug whatever was left in his beer can and fish another out the cooler he kept on the deck.
There was a time when Chip would be amazed at how resourceful his brother was with his addiction. The few times where the cooler would be conveniently misplaced or padlocked, and Randy would still manage to end up drunk as skunk with a fresh six pack of empty cans strewn about him. The man had totaled his truck and lost his license on previous booze runs, so the fresh six-pack was always a wonder. As far as Chip knew, Randy had alienated everybody in the family but him so where the beer came from was a mystery.
June 2, 2014 — 10:25 AM
Tanis Mallow says:
I like it. Especially like the line: “the vision of Randy stood in stark contrast to the reality of Randy.” I like some of your verb choices – fish/chug/strewn.
The last halves of the final two sentences seem redundant (so the fresh six-pack was always a wonder / so where the beer came from was a mystery) particularly since they both start with “so”. Maybe change up the second one?
Hope that helps.
June 2, 2014 — 12:36 PM
justlo1 says:
Chip stared at his brother, and much like every other time he came over, the vision of Randy stood in stark contrast to the reality of Randy. Silence descended on 1the both of them, and Randy 2chose the opportunity to 3chugged whatever was left in his beer can and fish another out the cooler4 he kept on the deck.
o 1 the word –them- implies both of them, so reduce duplication of staements and just say- on them.
o 2 Chip can’t know what Randy is thinking. His choises can only be seen.
o 3 because of number 2 . the action is then seen as he chugged.
o 4 this one is writers choise. Do we , the reader, need the location? Or has it already been established? If location is needed I suggest something like chip found his brother on the deck a cooler at his feet. He stared at his brother,…..
1There was a time when Chip would be amazed at how resourceful his brother was 2with his addiction. The few times 3where the cooler4 would be 5conveniently misplaced or padlocked, and Randy would still manage to end up drunk as skunk with a fresh six pack of empty cans strewn about him. 6The man had totaled his truck and lost his license on previous booze runs, so the fresh six-pack was always a wonder. As far as Chip knew, Randy had alienated everybody in the family but him so where the beer came from was a mystery.
1. I find this wordy … try Chip was amazed at how …
2. remove the -with his addiction. He is making a statement .. then showing the evidence for that statement … I suggest you allow the evidence to stand, and allow the reader to form his own opinion.
3. Where should read when (IMHO)
4. Should read when the cooler was misplaced … or had been misplaced … or try this … On those occasions when the cooler was missing Randy would still manage to end up as drunk as a skunk.
5. Remove the ly word as it is not needed. (IMO)
6. The next two sentences say the same thing. Pick one. Or perhaps combine them somehow, but the mystery and the wonder are both the same thing.
probably too much …sorry
June 2, 2014 — 1:07 PM
cm0 says:
While Connor was in the shower, I put my feet up on the couch and leaned back, letting the air conditioning hit my wet hair and sore back.
“You know, you have a whole box of clothes here,” Tina reminded me.
“They’re all winter clothes,” was my excuse.
“I have some you can borrow until yours are dry,” she said, which seemed more like a polite way of saying ‘stop being naked in my house’ than a nice gesture.
“Oh, no thank you,” I responded. “My clothes will be dry soon. I’m comfortable. Thanks, though.”
June 2, 2014 — 10:36 AM
Maria says:
i seriously love this. i’d really like to read the story behind it
June 2, 2014 — 11:46 AM
cm89@mail.com says:
Thanks! I have one awesome writing buddy and always looking for another to trade crits if you ever wanted to. Don’t know how to hook up from here, though.
June 2, 2014 — 2:51 PM
Noel says:
Love the dialogue and situation–and the hints at character–but the elaborate dialogue tags bother me a bit. “Was my excuse” just feels odd and distracting as a tag, and I feel like it works too hard to do the same job that “I said” would.
June 3, 2014 — 8:06 PM
Malinovka says:
The sound of footsteps in the hall made her tense from her teeth to her toes. She’d been in the business long enough now that she was no longer paralyzed with fear. Hell, she wasn’t even nervous. Even so, it was never really routine, either. She welcomed the pounding of her heart, the goose-bumps prickling her skin, the familiar thrum of sensation that tingled at her pulse points. She knew it was just chemical, the adrenaline rush of an animal hungry for a fight. In these moments, though, the moments just before she slid out of the darkness and became the weapon wielded by murderers too timid to see the blood they wanted spilled, in these moments it didn’t feel chemical at all. If felt like power. It felt like magic
June 2, 2014 — 10:39 AM
ngjcdad says:
This selection includes two things I adore and find vital to writing: vocabulary and detail. Love “thrum,” “pulse points,” “just chemical,” and the last two sentences. I suspect you mean “It” rather than “If” in the second-to-last sentence. To eliminate some of the commas in your last longer sentence, consider switching to em dashes after “though” and again after “spilled.” Great job!
June 2, 2014 — 1:19 PM
Katherine Hetzel says:
A little bit longer than a paragraph – but not by much – so you get the complete scene. Irvana’s just arrived in a city after living on the coast…
“There’s no sky here,” she whispered.
The buildings were clustered so tightly together, only thin slivers of daylight reached the cobbles and the cart. Trapped among the bricks and timbers, she fought the sudden urge to jump out of the cart and run back the way she’d come until there were open heavens above her head again.
And the smell!
It wasn’t fresh sea air, that’s for certain. The stench made Irvana retch and she covered her nose with her hand, trying not to breathe too deeply. It was even worse than the time when winter storms had washed a dead whale into the cove below Gramma’s shack and it had lain there, rotting, until the next high tide washed the corpse out to sea. City smell was an unpleasant mix of people, animals and open sewage channels, all of it jammed into the cobbled streets. Occasionally, there was the more welcome aroma of food – meat and pastry – but that only made Irvana’s stomach growl with hunger and added to her nausea.
June 2, 2014 — 10:40 AM
Jana Denardo says:
I really liked the line about there being no sky and the description of the buildings. I’d research a bit on whether a whale would just wash back out to sea because I know of several cases where it beaches and is stuck there. Maybe something a bit smaller like a shark.
June 2, 2014 — 10:57 AM
ngjcdad says:
Good detail in the smells, both pleasant and repulsive. I’m confused as to whether Irvana actually threw up or not. You say “retch” as though she did, but then the rest of the sentence seems as if she’s trying to keep from doing it. Perhaps you meant “want to retch”? If she actually did, maybe have her wipe her chin, then add something at the end of the sentence to say she didn’t want to do it again.
June 2, 2014 — 1:51 PM
Katherine Hetzel says:
ngjcdad – Re retching…wonder if I really mean gag? It’s that sensation you get when cleaning (for eg!) a blocked loo and the smell turns your stomach and you can feel it clenching and you’re heaving but nothing ever comes up…
Jana – Point taken about the size of the whale…
Pleased that the description and smells came through.
Ta very muchly!
June 3, 2014 — 8:50 AM
mhmoore says:
Far to the west in the middle of the sea, an ancient being was waking once more. He stretched and moved, and as he did the islands above shook. The portal turned red, then white and once again returned to its bluish swirls. Malchadi was intrigued; the time was coming when he could once again walk the world called earth. It had been a long time, almost a thousand years. If not for the damned dwarves, he’d be in his new kingdom now.
June 2, 2014 — 10:45 AM
Anastasia says:
I like that the ancient being retains some curiosity. Ancients and gods who are curious are automatically intriguing. My only comment would be that unless this ancient being was felled by the entire race of dwarves, it wouldn’t hurt to be more specific as to which dwarves thwarted him. And shouldn’t Earth be capitalized as a name?
June 2, 2014 — 11:30 AM
mhmoore says:
.You’re right as THE planet Earth it would be capitalized as a planet somewhere at sometime. By someone who really doesn’t give a crap, earth is dirt, not particularly a special place..therefore, no capitals. As far as dwarves are concerned, nasty little people that got the better of this guy, he doesn’t care about their people or civilization. To him its like “human” but in this instance, they are a race, not a type.
BTW, this is kind of a small insert while totally different stuff is going on in the “world”.
June 2, 2014 — 12:21 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
I have a fondness (weakness?) for villains who have names starting with M, so I’m immediately as intrigued as Malchadi. It makes me wonder how dwarves could have defeated such an ancient being, and what he did to deserve being banished underground for a thousand years. If he’s some sort of ancient super-evil, maybe you could make some additional portents (islands shaking can be a bit portentous… but they can also do that because of general volcanic activity). Of course, if you want his arrival to be unforetold, then you should ignore what I just said.
Also, I agree with Anastasia, that as a proper noun, Earth should be capitalised (it being the world/planet you’re referring to here, rather than just a pile o’ decomposed organic sedimentary material).
June 2, 2014 — 1:59 PM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Here’s my effort – (John Windlass is the anti-hero of the piece)
The outskirts of Harrogate were as dark as they would ever get. With every second lamppost broken and the nearest working one fifty metres away, Windlass’ couldn’t have found a more perfect parking spot. Not pitch black, but as near as made no difference. He adjusted the head restraint of his non-magnified, wide-field view, night vision goggles to lessen the front-heavy weight on the bridge of his nose. Windlass waited in the car for the full fifteen-minutes it took to grow accustomed to the pale green light, which screwed with his depth perception, but he didn’t wear them for target practice. Luckily.
June 2, 2014 — 10:48 AM
brucearthurs says:
Here’s my suggestions, for tightness and to eliminate a few unnecessary or clunky words:
With every second lamppost broken and the nearest working one fifty meters away, the outskirts of Harrogate were as dark as they ever got., Windlass had found a perfect parking spot, not pitch black but near as made no difference. He adjusted the head strap of his wide-view, night-vision goggles to lessen the weight on the bridge of his nose. Windlass waited a full fifteen minutes to grow accustomed to the display’s pale green light; it screwed with his depth perception, but he didn’t wear the goggles for target practice.
June 2, 2014 — 11:02 AM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Thanks Bruce, it works much better your way, although I’ve already changed the para, on third reading, it sounded too damned clunky. 🙂
June 3, 2014 — 2:25 AM
Smoph says:
Wise words from Bruce. Less is more when it comes to narrative, in the best examples of writing that I’ve seen. Try to keep unnecessary detail down. Eg. As Bruce suggested, removing the non-magnified, which is a detail you would only need if they were magnified, for example.
June 5, 2014 — 12:28 AM
fadedglories says:
Something bad going down in Harrogate, really?
Windlass sounds like a Pro and you definitely made me interested to know what he’s waiting and watching for.
( I’m glad for his sake that the street lights are down otherwise he might look a bit daft in his goggles, snigger….it’s the location that’s giving me the giggles.)
Sorry. Trying again….. He’s sounding like a Bad guy even if you hadn’t said he was an anti-hero and I think you’ve made it clear that something interesting is about to happen.
June 2, 2014 — 11:45 AM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Ah now – not all crime is committed in London or Los Angeles, 🙂 Windlass is a jewel thief. Harrogate is the location of his latest robbery on his way to meeting up with the hero of the novel – a Detective based in Birmingham. Glad to have amused. 🙂
June 3, 2014 — 2:22 AM
fadedglories says:
I would be happy to read more of this. Jewel thief huh? Does he look like Cary Grant?
June 3, 2014 — 2:26 AM
Kerry J Donovan says:
I see him as a nondescript version of a young Michael Cain, although I’m still developing his character in my head. He meets his match when he reaches Birmingham – but there’ll be more to it than that. 🙂
June 3, 2014 — 2:29 AM
tracikenworth says:
I would maybe look at changing the “but as near as made no difference.” This line throws me for some reason, maybe too cliche? What is Windlass’s goal in this scene? Is he watching someone? Looking to discover something? Maybe a hint of this, but then you probably explain elsewhere in your work.
June 2, 2014 — 8:46 PM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Hi tracikenworth – Windlass is a jewel thief, about to purloin a very valuable diamond. By this stage of the story, the reader knows this. And yes, quite right a little cliched. Thanks.
June 3, 2014 — 2:19 AM
brucearthurs says:
He picked up a french fry from his plate, dredged it in the establishment’s renowned garlic aoili, and popped it into his mouth. The crisp brown exterior crunched, releasing the fry’s soft inner potato flesh. Garlic and spices and oil, the savory Maillardized potato skin, the creamy inner meat, all mingled in orgiastic perfection in his mouth. One of the benefits of being a field agent for Hell was the access to good food. French fries in Hell were invariably limp, pale, and flavorless. Whatever their many faults otherwise, when their mojo was hopping humans really had the whole cooking thing down. It could be almost… Heavenly.
June 2, 2014 — 10:51 AM
Jasmine I. says:
I like it. As a fries aficionado, I can a-taste to the fact that my mouth watered. I especially enjoyed the twisty ending quip. Well done fry guy, I look forward to more.
June 2, 2014 — 11:35 AM
physicsjenn says:
Oh great, now I’m hungry.
June 2, 2014 — 2:26 PM
M.A. Kropp says:
I like it, with one exception. The word Maillardized. Yes, I know the Maillard reaction. It’s just that word sticks out at me every time I look at the paragraph, and it makes me pull back for a second. Otherwise- well, all I want right now i French fries!
June 2, 2014 — 2:32 PM
Mike W. says:
Yeah, where can I sample some of these heavenly fries? 🙂 And not to be too pedantic, but you spelled “aioli” wrong.
June 2, 2014 — 2:33 PM
brucearthurs says:
you spelled “aioli” wrong.
Damn! The epaulets deserve to be ripped from my Food Nerd uniform for that mistake. Thanks.
The fries (minus the aioli) are based on the ones I remember eating at The Chuckbox, a . hamburger joint across the street from Arizona State University in Tempe, Arizona. The hamburgers were even better, the best I’ve ever eaten. The Chuckbox is still in business today, all these many years after I was an ASU student. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, give them a try.
June 2, 2014 — 3:42 PM
Taren Paige says:
I am so happy I have fries right now or I’d have such a horrible craving.
I suggest doing something the word ‘Maillardized’ because it, at least for me, brought me out of the imagery and made me think of ducks because I had to look up what that word had to do with food…
Also, this is just being picky, but you don’t have to capatilize ‘heavenly’, even after the ‘…’ because it isn’t the exact word Heaven and is still considered part of the sentence before the ‘…’
June 2, 2014 — 7:12 PM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Nothing to add here but – nice one. A tasty piece of work.
June 3, 2014 — 2:27 AM
pamelacreese says:
This really wasn’t the paragraph I planned on commenting on, but you grabbed me with French fries in Hell 🙂 The aesthetics are lovely, I can smell and taste his snack, but I am more intrigued by what precisely a ‘field agent for Hell’ does. Well played, sir.
June 3, 2014 — 6:47 PM
Jasmine I. says:
Like Pontius Pilot, I walked a road of crucifixion and nothing on my path was immune.
l used to love telling the story of how I had a nursery school teacher fired for my suspicion that her lack of punctuality and not up to-my standards grooming, was due to her cocaine habit. Then there was the principal at my children’s grade school leaving a tearful message on my answering machine saying that he would, in fact, take up my suggestions that he act as a student advocate rather than a prison warden. I have nailed doctors, landlords, teenagers and parents to the cross with self-sharpened nails of dogma and control. Please do not think that I would let up in any small way on my family – I saved the best poison dipped spikes for them. I did, after all, love them the most…that’s why I hunted the others – I did it for them. To keep them safe in world that was filled with danger at every turn. I was doing my job.
June 2, 2014 — 11:31 AM
Jennifer says:
I chose this piece because I think there are interesting ideas here! My overall suggestion would be to simplify. Simplify your sentences, which are very long, and simplify your message. Maybe it’s an issue of simplifying tense? “The principle left” reads easier than “there was the principal leaving.” Also, you can remove some redundancies. Small grammatical errors can be corrected in later drafts, but carefully consider your use of ellipses and dashes. Overall, I feel like I want to know more about this narrator. I particularly like the grandiose sense I get from the Pontius Pilate reference; this is an MC that takes him/herself very seriously, and I want to know why.
June 2, 2014 — 12:12 PM
Jasmine I. says:
Thanks, Jennifer. I appreciate your feedback.
June 2, 2014 — 12:24 PM
ngjcdad says:
One major edit, Jasmine: Unless you’re referring to someone other than the well-known Biblical person, it’s spelled “Pilate.”
June 2, 2014 — 5:17 PM
ngjcdad says:
Nice, Jasmine! Only one bit of constructive criticism: Unless you’re referring to someone other than the well-known Biblical figure, it’s spelled Pontius Pilate.
June 2, 2014 — 5:25 PM
Jasmine I. says:
Thank-you! Yet another first draft WIP faux pas. Must correct now.
June 5, 2014 — 2:38 PM
T. Jane Berry says:
From the middle of a short story I’m working on:
I lean down and smell blood. I can’t hear any sounds from the homeless man. I can’t see his face, which is nuzzled near the truck’s double tires, like he’s trying to check the tread, right up close. One of his dollar bills skitters away in the breeze. My spirit animal lifts his head lazily, as if waking from a long nap. He settles back down next to the man and I know that he is no longer my spirit animal. I feel the loss like the dangly earrings you take out at the end of the night and your head suddenly feels a tiny bit lighter.
June 2, 2014 — 11:46 AM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
I love stories (or paragraphs) which start out with short, high-impact sentences which run up, punch you in the gut and demand “you must read more!”, so you already had me hooked with your first two lines. Poor homeless man; it doesn’t sound like he’s died peacefully.
I’m a bit ambivalent about the second part of your paragraph, however. Being the (occasionally reluctant) owner of a spirit guide (which is indeed an animal), I can imagine how I would feel if I lost mine, and it would be a much more devastating loss than the weight of a pair of drop-earrings (even my favourite moonstone earrings, which aren’t the lightest things in the world).
Maybe you’re using spirit animals in a different way—as things which can come and go at will, picking new people to own for as long as they see fit, or travelling with a new person for as long as both have need. I get the feeling this would be explored a little more in the rest of your story, but compared with the punchiness of your opening lines, this loss feels like a little bit of a let-down. “Today I found a dead body, all covered in blood. Oh, and I also got a papercut, which really stung.”
I dunno, am I making more out of this than I need to?
June 2, 2014 — 2:12 PM
T. Jane Berry says:
Not at all. I appreciate you taking the time to think it through with me. I struggle with the earring line as well. The context is that this is an ugly stray dog which began following the narrator four days ago when her son disappeared. The police officers and volunteers started referring to him as her “spirit animal.” But I still don’t love that last line. Thanks for your feedback!
June 2, 2014 — 8:46 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Ooh. Is the dead homeless man secretly the son who’s been kidnapped by aliens and either exposed to time-travel, thus giving him an unkempt and homeless appearance, OR had his metabolism drastically accelerated so that his body aged at a faster rate than is natural for a human being and died after a critical failure of the probing experiment?
Thanks for the context, it makes more sense now that I know this is a flesh and blood creature (or at least, *appears* to be so). I guess such a loss would sting (losing your newly acquired stray dog right after losing your son…) and it would certainly make me question whether it was some sort of conspiracy to take things away from me. Then again, somebody else might be glad to be rid of such an obligation as a stray dog, and might not consider it much of a loss at all. One of those things that’s really subjective, perhaps.
G’luck figuring out the earrings bit, I hope you’re able to come up with something you’re happy with.
June 3, 2014 — 4:49 PM
Smoph says:
I’m no authority on spirit animals, but I get that analogy–like her thoughts are lighter, less weighed down with the issues or thoughts, etc. burdening her because of said spirit animal.
June 5, 2014 — 12:34 AM
Kerry J Donovan says:
Did she kill the tramp? Intriguing, but two similes in so short a para, strikes me as overkill. Not into animal spirits, but I know millions of others are.
June 3, 2014 — 2:35 AM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
The opening paragraph in my current WIP:
If Rayne Lawson had known when she woke up this morning, she would be standing over a headless corpse in a few short hours, she just might have thought twice about turning down the weeklong vacation in Aruba. She could taste the Pina Colada she would be holding right now and imagine the view of the crystal waters.
June 2, 2014 — 11:48 AM
brucearthurs says:
The start of this paragraph smacks too much of “Had she but known”, a very old cliche. It also slows down getting “inside” the story. The most important thing in that opening is the headless corpse, so lead with that. Something like:
Rayne Lawson stood over the headless corpse and regretted the week-long vacation in Aruba she had turned down just hours earlier.
June 2, 2014 — 12:18 PM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
Bruce – I like it, thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 12:20 PM
ngjcdad says:
Regarding the opening line, the wording also confused me when I first read it. Since the first comma causes the reader to pause, at first I thought you were saying that Rayne didn’t know WHAT TIME she woke. If you keep your current wording, the simplest fix is to eliminate that first comma and put in “… this morning THAT she would be …” Also, “pina colada” doesn’t need to be capped. Keep up the good work!
June 2, 2014 — 5:32 PM
Rio says:
You need to get rid of the comma after “morning” in the first sentence.
June 2, 2014 — 5:48 PM
Rio says:
Some context: the speaker is a sixteen year old girl who just woke up in purgatory. She’s found by a sexy lady with angel wings on her back and is taken to a bar called “The Moonlight Motel,” which is where most of the story takes place.
The bar felt blessedly cool after the blinding, unbearable heat of the beach. When the bartender saw the winged woman, he grinned widely and handed her a vodka martini. The flickering neon sign above the bar read “Moonlight Motel” in pale, ghostly blue. In the corner, the piano man was fast asleep at his piano. A small puddle of drool was forming on the ivory keys. A trumpet player sat cross-legged on top of the piano, playing some tune straight out of a noir film. It made me feel empty inside, like I was completely alone in the world. His eyes were the same mesmerizing, otherwordly blue as the neon sign. Just looking at them made my head spin.
“Hey!” the bartender shouted suddenly, breaking me out of the trance. He wadded up a bar rag and winged it at the sleeping piano man’s head. “Two pretty girls just walked in, so why don’t you stop playing that damned funeral song and let some light in?” The piano man groaned in protest and wiped the spit off the side of his face before picking up a light, jazzy tune.
“Ah, so the kid actually knows how to play that thing,” a man with the head of a bird said. “I was beginning to think he was just there for decoration.”
June 2, 2014 — 11:49 AM
Mike W. says:
This sounds good; it really sets the scene. The only thing I might change is joining the sentence about the sleeping piano player with the sentence following it: “In the corner, the piano man was fast asleep at his piano, a small puddle of drool forming on the ivory keys.”
June 2, 2014 — 2:38 PM
tracikenworth says:
Lose the felt. I find when that word appears it’s too telling. Maybe: Blessed coolness washed over me wiping away the unbearable heat of the beach. Remove widely. Also, does the man with the head of bird actually have the head of a bird? Might want to fix this if not. Might want to start a new paragraph with the dialogue.
June 2, 2014 — 8:50 PM
Rio says:
Yes, yes he does! And I meant to start new paragraphs, but I guess I should have pressed enter one more time.
June 2, 2014 — 11:33 PM
cajetane says:
Hi Rio, this is an evocative scene. Without the context I may not have been intrigued enough to stay until the birdman, but I like the sense of place and the personalities you’ve invoked. I agree with the aim of the other comments, trying to hook the reader right in. So, maybe ‘…fast asleep at his piano. He was drooling on the keys.’ I think you could pare it down by taking out a few commas and spare words e.g. ‘Hey!’ the bartender shouted, breaking…’ There’s no need for the ‘suddenly’ because you’ve already shown me that with the exclamation mark. I might also say, ‘…how to play that thing,’ a bird-headed man said.’, because I as I read I saw a man, and then had to add a bird head and it just threw me out of the story while I tried to do that. The ‘kid’ jarred with me because a sleeping, drooling piano man conjured up an old desperate dude for me, but otherwise the dialogue is fun 🙂 Keep pushing this one.
June 3, 2014 — 5:59 AM
Katherine Hetzel says:
Coupla things…a bit of tightening with the piano man? Try ‘In a corner, the piano man was fast asleep at the piano, a puddle of his drool on the ivory keys.’
‘His eyes’ – whose? The trumpet player?
Otherwise, like it – feel suitably surreal, especially when you mention the man with the head of the bird from nowhere…
June 3, 2014 — 8:58 AM
Noel says:
Interesting premise and great scene setting. The world is really rich and full of interesting detail and color, and I like the interactions of the bar-goers.
I’m not getting a lot of information about the speaker, though. The details seem objective, and I have very little sense of how she feels or what she wants. I know she’s glad to be somewhere cooler, is affected by sad music (though … “like” she’s completely alone in the world? I mean–isn’t she *actually* completely alone in the world?), and she’s slightly distracted–but that’s not a lot of emotion given the scenario you set.
She just isn’t bringing herself into the narration enough for me. What context is she used to, what associations does she have with places like this, how much detail can she take in under the circumstances, how does she react to people with bird heads, etc. Is she blase about the whole thing, is she afraid, is she excited, is she just tired and wants somewhere to take a nap? What *does* she want?
June 3, 2014 — 8:23 PM
Jennifer says:
Not exactly a paragraph, so I hope it’s okay to post a bit of dialogue I’d like feedback on:
“Kay? You here?”
“I have nowhere else to be.”
Pops comes in from the cold, bundled up like a sledding toddler. He already hates Midwestern winters. As he unwinds his wooly layers, a frown emerges.
“Brownies? Did you eat that whole pan?”
“Please. I left you a big piece next to the fridge. I’m not a monster.”
He doesn’t stop frowning.
“You are wearing pajamas.”
“It’s National Pajama Day. I’m doing my patriotic duty.”
“You wore those pajamas all day yesterday.”
“Holiday weekend?”
“Kay.” He still says my name like he’s reading it from a script. “You have to stop this. You have to act like a human.”
“As opposed to…”
“A newly-discovered species of mold. School semester starts in two days. You don’t even own a number two pencil.”
I snort. “I’m not really in the mood for back-to-school shopping.”
“I’m not really in the mood to check out romance novels for old ladies who keep giving me the eye. But this is our life now. Adapt.”
“Adaptation is for the birds. And… fish. And mold, come to think of it—”
“Stop. Just stop.” His basset hound eyes are extra droopy again. “I don’t want to talk in circles with you. I want you to go… somewhere. To the mall. I want you to get out of this house and don’t come back until you have folders and pens and one of those Trapper Keeper things.”
“I don’t think the time machine at the mall travels to 1992.”
“I mean it.” And he does. I can see it in the way he stands. “Get the hell out of here.”
So I peel myself off the sofa, which has an indent where my butt is supposed to be. I brush brownie crumbs off the upholstery with as much dignity as I can muster. As I pass Pops on the way to my new, totally undecorated room, I shoot him a look that I hope says, ‘Screw you.’
June 2, 2014 — 12:03 PM
Jasmine I. says:
It’s scornful enough to be believable from a teenagers perspective addressing her adult keeper. The one thing that I feel makes this exchange a bit soggy are the last two words. Most teenagers I know aim the “fuck you” gun with their looks, not a “screw you” pebble – that they do just be being. Great share, thanks.
June 2, 2014 — 12:17 PM
Jennifer says:
Thanks so much, Jasmine! Really good point.
June 2, 2014 — 12:25 PM
Smoph says:
I’m just going to add to this and say well done with the dialogue, and I think you don’t need the “that I hope”. Teenagers know how to give the bitchiest looks imaginable. 🙂
June 5, 2014 — 12:40 AM
fadedglories says:
Having raised teenagers and survived….pause for applause….I can say this is great dialogue.
I immediately like both characters. None of my teenagers were capable of joined up speech until they reached their 20s, but I know there are some articulate ones out there so I believe in your MC.
You do also manage to convey a lot of information that helps a reader to locate these people in time and space and tells us that they’re coping with difficulties and coping well.
June 2, 2014 — 12:21 PM
Jennifer says:
Thank you, fadedglories. (I’m applauding you!)
June 2, 2014 — 12:26 PM
cajetane says:
Current WIP – first draft, partway through Chapter 5:
‘Oh, yeah, now this one I love.’ Mandine nodded, her eyes half lidded and her lips pursed in a sexy pout as she eyed Sabra’s replica up and down. The fake Sabra twirled and posed suggestively on the round podium in the centre of the room. The soaring fitting room was bright and lined with mirrors. Even when you knew it was carefully stage-managed there was no escaping the stunning impact of the individually calibrated hologram modelling Sabra’s reluctant choices. She sat beside Mandine, nibbling on the nails of one hand. They were in one of the chicest of the many high fashion outlets on the golden mile – the place where a fashionista’s salary went to die.
‘That man is going to lose his mind when he sees you in this, Sabra.’
‘You’re crazy.’ Sabra had recounted her run-in with Durran to her best friend. Despite herself, angry tears had flowed at his treachery and Mandine had immediately responded. With this. A shopping spree.
‘Why under all the suns am I doing what he told me to do?’
‘Because you are going to go in there looking so freaking dangerous you’re going to have the entire Argente board eating out of your hand. Get the Argente chairman on a leash and then we’ll see who’s going to be pulling who’s strings.’
Sabra sighed.
‘Really? You know that’s not my style. And neither is this.’ She waved a hand at the hologram of herself, which blew her a languid kiss. The model wore a spray of purest sparkling crystal – millions of tiny faceted gems sprayed onto the skin in a swirling pattern that left the model’s entire back bare and hugged her curves like caressing hands. Somehow a skirt of sheer gauzy material flowed and swept out from her hips, the crystal galaxies continuing across the material to coyly hide and then reveal. It was scandalous.
‘I know,’ said her friend, her expression adding ‘ya don’t need to tell me, sister’.
‘But this is for the greater good. You’ll just have to set aside your ninja moves and your snarkiness superpower and use your feminine weapons instead.’
‘Don’t you mean feminine wiles?’
‘Honey, in that dress, we’re talking weapons.’
June 2, 2014 — 12:19 PM
Rio says:
Love it! I couldn’t find a single thing wrong with this!
June 2, 2014 — 1:35 PM
cajetane says:
Thanks so much 🙂 Very encouraging!
June 3, 2014 — 5:40 AM
Tom says:
I liked ths a lot, especially the idea of the hologram model. Interesting world-building. I would buy this.
June 2, 2014 — 3:22 PM
cajetane says:
Thank you 🙂 Your comment is so encouraging – and I’m even more chuffed considering you’re a guy (er, I’m assuming!), and this scene has so much about shopping and dresses in it… cheers!
June 3, 2014 — 5:43 AM
Smoph says:
Really love those last three lines of dialogue.
A small thing really: one of the chicest of many high fashion..” You don’t need to hedge. Your readers will believe it is one of the chicest of high fashion stores. Very easy to do; one of my own weaknesses.
Also, you don’t need the Somehow.
June 5, 2014 — 12:45 AM
cajetane says:
Thanks smoph, I agree 🙂 it’s that thing about trusting your reader, right? cheers,G
June 5, 2014 — 4:32 AM
justlo1 says:
Myst, grey and heavy as a thick dark cloud enshrouded the area. The air reeked of rot and decay; dark forms shifted wraithlike within the myst, sending their eerie howls, and screams into the air.
Alban stopped, his stomach clenched, and he grabbed for his staff.
His eyes shifted, searching. Where the hell am I?
June 2, 2014 — 12:25 PM
Jana Denardo says:
While I found this intriguing, I was wondering if there was a reason to spell mist this way? Is it some different sort of entity in this world?
June 2, 2014 — 1:03 PM
justlo1 says:
yes It is . 🙂 As this is chapter 26, this was well established earlier.
June 2, 2014 — 1:13 PM
Jana Denardo says:
Fair enough. I definitely wanted to see more.
June 2, 2014 — 1:44 PM
claudiacv says:
I really liked the description. And the action too. What I don´t like is the dialogue. “where the hell am I sounds too city speak and t breaks the feeling of that other world you are trying to achieve.
June 2, 2014 — 4:13 PM
Smoph says:
A tightening suggestion: A few too many adjectives for me in the first sentence. Describing it as grey and heavy already elicits thoughts of dark rain cloud, so “grey and heavy as thick cloud”. If not, you need a comma after dark.
June 5, 2014 — 12:49 AM
Tanis Mallow says:
Opening paragraph of current WIP:
The latest chapter of my life has been punctuated not by commas and exclamation marks but by ghosts. Ghosts, real, imagined, dreamt, flit on the edge of my subconscious waiting for the right moment to woo me or talk to me or haunt me or whatever it is ghosts do. I didn’t ask for them. I never wondered or cared about what awaits in the afterlife — or if in fact there is one — never wondered about the people I’d meet there.
Maybe I should have.
June 2, 2014 — 12:29 PM
fadedglories says:
Is your character a writer? If so then the opener about punctuation etc is fine if it’s metaphor then p’raps it’s a bit heavy-handed.
He seems not to know much about ghosts but implies that they’re significantly present so are they entirely passive entities?
I think you want to intrigue the reader, but this doesn’t really do that.
Maybe you could start with your character right in the middle of some heavy ghost action, that would grab my attention.
June 2, 2014 — 12:47 PM
Tanis Mallow says:
Thanks for the feedback. Actually one of the more interesting things that came from your comments was that you thought the character was a guy. She’s a women – I’ll have to look at the opening scene again and figure out if /when that bit of info is passed on.
June 2, 2014 — 1:47 PM
Jana Denardo says:
I actually don’t agree with Fadedglories. I was intrigued by this. However, this sentence is a bit awkward – Ghosts, real, imagined, dreamt, flit on the edge of my subconscious waiting for the right moment to woo me or talk to me or haunt me or whatever it is ghosts do. – I’d suggest trimming out ‘dreamt’ or maybe breaking it into two sentences.
June 2, 2014 — 1:07 PM
Tanis Mallow says:
Thanks Jana. I’m having trouble nailing down this paragraph for some reason.
June 2, 2014 — 1:50 PM
Jana Denardo says:
I know how that goes. Tightening up the sentences might help.
June 2, 2014 — 1:57 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
This is great, but maybe take out dreamt. “Real and imagined” or “real or imagined” would be better.
June 2, 2014 — 5:03 PM
Tanis Mallow says:
Thanks so much. Honest feedback is always welcome. Will work on that sentence!
June 2, 2014 — 11:03 PM
brucearthurs says:
I find “whatever it is ghosts do” seems a little weak. They woo, they talk, they haunt… all strong words. They…”whatever”?
June 3, 2014 — 4:15 PM
Tanis Mallow says:
Thanks, Bruce. Was trying to portray her flippant attitude but I think you’re right…needs re-working.
June 3, 2014 — 5:18 PM
Heather says:
The wet cold was unbearable. Rune shivered. Even if he had something with which to make fire, the chilling gloom would never let it catch hold enough to give him warmth and light. Darkness surrounded him in a thick vapor. He couldn’t remember anything about where he was, how he got here, or why he had this unrelenting ache in the back of his mind and in the pit of his stomach.
Already hurting, alone, and afraid, the fear of what could be here in the darkness with Rune was even less tolerable than the cold. In his solitude in this dark place, he didn’t know who or what he should fear more, himself or something else. Instinct fought with Rune’s desire to call into the blackness for help. He grappled in the dark to gain some bearing. Cold gravel crunched under his palms and stuck to his clammy skin as he reached out into the jet black cold in front of him. Not noticing anything immediately in his way, he slowly scraped to his feet, wincing at a sharp pain in his right leg where he had lain unconscious for an indeterminable length of time. He shuffled and limped slowly across the uneven ground blindly, pain surging with each movement, always reaching and wishing for a wall to grip for support until he tripped, propelling himself forward onto the wet, rocky ground. He tasted soil and blood upon impact.
June 2, 2014 — 12:33 PM
Mike W. says:
This is very evocative…I can almost feel the cold and damp myself (although it’s cold and damp here today, so that probably helps!) There are just a couple of things you might consider changing. Maybe “*like* a thick vapor” instead of “in a thick vapor”, since darkness isn’t *actually* a vapor.
You could probably drop “in front of him” after “jet black cold”, since the next line tells us which direction he was reaching. I’m not sure about the phrase “for an indeterminable length of time”…it sounds kinda off to me, but I can’t really come up with anything better offhand…maybe “for however long” would work.
And you could maybe drop “slowly” in the sentence about him shuffling and limping, since you already have an adverb (blindly) in there. Overall, it sounds pretty good!
June 2, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Heather says:
Excellent advice! I’ve stared at it for so long that I couldn’t fix anymore of it on my own, and I really appreciate your input. I can already see it flowing better now. Btw, the “indeterminable length of time” thing is retarded. I meant to take that out a long time ago- it’s actually in red on my WIP as a “needs work” note, but I was too hasty in putting this onto here for critique. Thanks again.
June 2, 2014 — 3:24 PM
thexenocyde says:
Short story that turned into something longer that I am working on.
The man put his hand on my shoulder as he pointed out the spot where the forks on my bike were leaking. He really had no way of knowing that I really wanted to rip his throat out at that moment, but years of careful control had kept me calm and collected. Werewolves don’t like to be touched by people they don’t know. Old werewolves really don’t like to be touched by anyone. I fall in the latter category, but with age comes temperance. I like to think I have good temperance.
June 2, 2014 — 1:04 PM
Mike W. says:
This sounds cool; it sounds like the narrator is an “old werewolf”, but maybe looks like a young human? An interesting contrast.
June 2, 2014 — 2:47 PM
thexenocyde says:
Thanks Mike W. He is indeed an old were.
June 2, 2014 — 5:37 PM
staceyfilak says:
I really liked this, and am definitely interested in seeing where the character takes us. Great premise. My inly teensy advice would be to watch repeating the same word in close proximity to itself. Second sentence has really/really, and the ending has temperance twice. It is fine to do, for exaggeration, but too much loses that effect. Otherwise, super-cool piece.
June 2, 2014 — 7:29 PM
ngjcdad says:
From my novel-in-progress. To explain the way she is dressed, this scene takes place in 1884 New England:
“Jedediah!”
Thankfully, it was Mother’s voice first. She must have heard our ruckus before Jessie could reach Father at the end of the main hallway. Slowly, she appeared at the head of the stairs: first, the familiar brown-and-silver hair, wrenched back into a perfect bun, then the New England alabaster skin, with the tiny smile and worry lines that were destined to deepen, then the high black collar all the fashionable wealthy Methodist women were wearing this holiday season, then the modest bosom, strangled miniscule waist and bustled hips. As much as I adored my mother for her triumph at gifting me with my only tender moments in this house, I loathed what money and religion and society had made of her: a portrait of suffocation.
June 2, 2014 — 1:05 PM
Mike W. says:
I like the description…I can see the mother in my mind. It’s interesting that the narrator has mixed feelings toward her mother…makes me wonder which is stronger, her adoration or her loathing?
June 2, 2014 — 2:50 PM
ngjcdad says:
Just to clarify, Jedediah is a man’s name.
June 2, 2014 — 5:47 PM
Mike W. says:
Oh duh! I must have had a brain freeze there 🙂 For some reason I was reading it as a daughter talking about her mom, but it works just as well with a son talking about HIS mom.
June 2, 2014 — 8:15 PM
ngjcdad says:
LOL, re-reading it, I guess I didn’t really tell you a gender. You’d just have to know from the name. Oopsy!
June 3, 2014 — 12:39 AM
Daniel Quentin Steele says:
CONTEXT: This is the opening of the fourth volume of “When We Were Married.” William Maitland is a 42-year-old Florida prosecutor whose personal and professional life is in a shambles, most recently because of the murder the night before of the only witness in a weak case against a man who beat his wife and unborn son to death with a tire iron.
THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL
Wednesday November 16, 2005 – 3 a.m. –
I’m wandering in a thick fog. I don’t know how I’ve gotten here. I don’t know where HERE is. All I know is that the fog is thick and cold and clings like the sticky threads of a gigantic spider’s web. I’m trying to push my way through the disgusting stuff, but it’s getting harder and harder. I push at it with hands that seem weak and I realize how little they are. They’re a child’s hands, a child’s small fingers clawing at the grey streamers that drift around me.
I’m lost, and I’m alone and I’m afraid. And I’m eight years old. I hear my father’s voice ringing in the mist.
“Billy, Billy, where are you, son? I need you. Hurry. Help me.”
I see him at the mine entrance. A huge man, black hair flowing down to his shoulders like a barbaric warrior. I know in some small part of my mind that he never wore his hair long, but it seems real now. The ground is shaking and dust and flames pour out of the hole behind him.
“Billy, hurry, please. I need you. I’m falling.”
“I’m coming, daddy,” I scream. But as I run in slow motion he sinks deeper and his features become obscured by the thick, black coal dust. He sinks down slowly into the blackness and the last things I see are his eyes gleaming in the dark.
“Billy, you failed me, son. You could have saved me. Why didn’t you?”
“Daddy, I’m only eight. I couldn’t.”
A whisper from the dark clouds says, “If you had loved me, you would have come for me, Billy.”
June 2, 2014 — 1:27 PM
ngjcdad says:
Emotional and visual! Love both elements. Instead of caps, you should italicize “here.” (I realize you may have capped it here in lieu of the italic option.) After “I’m lost,” you should put *either* the comma *or* the word “and.” Both are not necessary. It may be more dramatic to have the spoken sentences end in exclamation points, illustrating yelling or pleading. In fact, you use “I scream,” but the line screamed does not have an exclamation point. You could use a comma after “slow motion.” Also consider a comma after “blackness.” Good scene!
June 2, 2014 — 1:45 PM
M.A. Kropp says:
They turned down a wide, tree-lined street and approached what could only be described as a castle. It was tall, broad, and crenellated, with twin towers on the ends, and a massive, iron-bound door. Bright banners of crimson red inscribed with golden circles fluttered from atop the towers. They walked up the broad staircase. At the door, Kaili gestured with one hand, and it swung open silently.
“Isn’t is supposed to creak?” Jeff asked as they entered. The door swung shut behind them, and he glanced over his shoulder involuntarily.
“You’re thinking of those ancient vids you’re so fond of,” Kaili replied. “We keep ours in better condition. Throws the victim’s suspicion off.” She grinned up a him, but he didn’t look particularly amused.
“The guard spell means there is no need for a doorman or watch,” she explained. “It will only open the door to a known presence. I’ll have to attune it to you, so you don’t get locked out.”
“Or in,” Jeff muttered.
June 2, 2014 — 2:42 PM
Mike W. says:
I like this…I like the interplay between the characters. The characters sound young to me…is this YA?
June 2, 2014 — 2:59 PM
M.A. Kropp says:
No, it isn’t, specifically. Though I don’t specify ages at all in the story. And thanks!
June 2, 2014 — 3:49 PM
claudiacv says:
A surreal, thriller, mystery novel…yeah…
“Victor! Victor! Answer me goddamn it!” I yell into the receiver. “I know it’s you! Just answer!”
I look into Rachel’s eyes and all she can say in a barely audible whisper is: “It’s Victor, its Victor.”
No shit, it’s Victor, I think to myself as I push the phone out of her hands. He’s been calling all week and all he does is listen and hang up. But I know it’s him. I can feel him. Even Rachel can feel him. He is trying to make contact, wherever the hell he is. But he won’t tell me where he is. He won’t even tell me it’s him. He´s just there, like a memory, or thorn at my side. Damn him. As if things couldn’t get any worse, Rachel had to answer the phone. Nothing good will come of this, I’m certain.
The phone lies dead on the floor, the receiver strewn like a dead fetus clinging to the listless womb, and I have no urge to hang it up. Instead I pick Rachel up and carry her back to bed.
Now I see her, she is all crumpled up into a little ball, her back against the wall, the sheet drawn around her like a protective shield. Her eyes are listless and far away and all she can mumble like a broken record is “it was Victor…It was Victor…” as if she had just spoken to a ghost. I want to hold her and let her know that everything is going to be o.k, but I don´t even know that myself. All I know is that I´m a prick…
June 2, 2014 — 2:43 PM
Mike W. says:
Hmmm, I was thinking maybe Victor *was* a ghost until the second-last line. This is interesting; it makes me wonder who Victor is (was?) and his connection to Rachel and the narrator (and why the narrator’s a prick). The simile about the dead fetus is certainly evocative, but it might be a bit jarring for some people.
June 2, 2014 — 3:18 PM
claudiacv says:
Mike, thanks for your input. The idea is that has to have some surreal elements to it because we will be traveling into his messed up brain. I´m so happy that I confused you and pulled you in at the same time. That´s what I was going for! Thanks again.
June 3, 2014 — 3:01 PM
Ebony the Weirdo says:
“In these moments, though, the moments just before she slid out of the darkness and became the weapon wielded by murderers too timid to see the blood they wanted spilled, in these moments it didn’t feel chemical at all.”
The first part of the sentence is fine, I suppose, but the ending seems redundant. You have ‘in these moments’ twice, so maybe the second time should be deleted and should end “it didn’t feel chemical at all’. Otherwise, I love this.
June 2, 2014 — 3:10 PM
Ebony the Weirdo says:
Apologies, this was meant for a specific comment. My computer decided to hate me and put this somewhere else.
June 2, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Tom says:
Okay, here goes. The opening paragraph from my WIP:
I’m carrying a box of spotlight gels from my car to the backstage door, already late for tonight’s rehearsal, when the scar on my left cheek explodes in pain and heat at the same moment the electric boys appear. One materializes under the corner streetlight, two more next to the car, flickering in and out of view, pale blue sparks arcing off shiny leather. The gels scatter across the parking lot and I’m lying with them on my back, staring up at the evening sky.
June 2, 2014 — 3:16 PM
Mike W. says:
The electric boys sound cool! I like this. The only part that sounds a little strange to me is “…I’m lying with them on my back…”; it’s ambiguous as to whether you mean lying with the gels on his back or just “lying on my back” with the gels in his possession. I suspect it’s the latter, since the rest of the sentence says he’s staring up at the sky.
June 2, 2014 — 8:26 PM
Tom says:
Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, I felt the same uncertainty when I re-read it, but I’m hoping keeping the narrator’s physical position in the same sentence as the gels will be the clue. I’m sure it could do with a little clearing up just the same.
June 2, 2014 — 9:18 PM
Tom says:
OK. I just need to move “on my back” after “lying.” That scans much smoother.
June 2, 2014 — 9:23 PM
cajetane says:
The electric boys are intriguing (okay, they sound hot, what with the leather and all!). I wonder whether you can find a way to crank up the tension a bit more – does the protagonist know to watch out for them already, or is this the first time they appear? The scar seems to indicate he does know them, as does the fact that he names them. Maybe make the first very long sentence into two or three, and add some more sensation/information around that. Is he nervous? Sweaty and looking around the back alley in fear? Is he smug that he’s ‘escaped’ them or completely oblivious? You could put a full stop after ‘…in heat and pain.’, and then something like ‘My heart bucked – the electric boys were here’ or whatever. I don’t think you even need ‘with them’ in the last sentence – you’ve already shown me the gels scattered across the lot, and now ‘I’m laying on my back, staring up…’ makes it a cleaner image. More please.
June 3, 2014 — 6:11 AM
Tom says:
thank you! some good suggestions I need to chew over.
“More please.”
I’m working on it! My summer project.
June 3, 2014 — 6:41 PM
cajetane says:
My WIP sub here is a summer project too 🙂 Not to be too forward or anything, but wld you be interested in a crit buddy?
June 4, 2014 — 8:14 AM
Tom says:
I’m at work right now so just a quick reply, but yes, that would be cool. I need something to keep me accountable so I don’t just slack off. I’ll reply again when I’m home and we’ll figure out how to work this.
Thanks!
June 4, 2014 — 12:12 PM
cajetane says:
my email: cajetaneinroma @ gmail . com
June 5, 2014 — 4:34 AM
Mike W. says:
Okay, here’s mine; no context really, just a paragraph I grabbed at random:
“When Melanie walked in with Denise, they were all a little disappointed. They’d been expecting some brawny drill sergeant with rippling muscles and a booming voice, not a slender, wiry woman with a voice like sandpaper. For her part, Melanie was equally unimpressed by the trio in front of her. She could see by their expressions that they didn’t take her seriously, and she knew the first rule of being a costumed hero was: Never underestimate your opponent.”
(In the original, “Never underestimate your opponent” is in italics.)
June 2, 2014 — 3:26 PM
Kiara says:
I love your character descriptions here. You’re giving us just enough to be interesting but not the boring dating profile list. Maybe show us the expressions on their faces, though, or their body language, rather than telling us they’re underestimating her?
June 2, 2014 — 4:16 PM
mattw says:
This does a good job of setting the tone for what I assume would be dialogue to follow. What clues does Melanie have to know the “trio in front of her” were disappointed? Was it posture, a frown, does one of them snigger? I’m not clear on if it’s Melanie or Denise that’s being described by the second sentence. Either way, until she speaks how can they know about her sandpapery voice?
June 2, 2014 — 4:24 PM
Mike W. says:
Thanks for the feedback 🙂 You’re both probably right about adding something to convey their disappointment (facial expressions or whatever). And I might have to add a line saying they exchanged greetings, that way they’d know what Melanie’s voice sounds like.
June 2, 2014 — 8:56 PM
mattw says:
Second paragraph in the current WIP:
If the creature hunting him had a name, he didn’t know it. Twice as tall as any man, the monster was little more than a jumble of bones impossibly held together by scraps of sinew. Its giant ribcage was large enough to hold a man captive. Those unlucky enough to be caught by the creature usually starved to death in its ribs before their bones were ripped from their body and added to the monster.
June 2, 2014 — 3:57 PM
claudiacv says:
Hmmm, I like it, especially the first sentence. And the second. Where it starts to go a little shaky; i think; is at: Those unlucky enough to be caught…
I think it stops the flow/rhythm of the other sentences. Maybe you should add a little more description before moving on to that sentence. Because the idea is good, the words in the sentence are good, it just feels too abrupt. Do you get what I mean? “Its giante ribcage was large enough to hold a man captive. Its jaws so and so, eyes like so and so…or something to the likes.
June 2, 2014 — 4:18 PM
Pat says:
I like all of it. Just one suggestion – I don’t think you need “giant” in the third sentence. Other than that, it works for me. I would love to read more…
June 2, 2014 — 8:13 PM
Mike W. says:
I like it…sounds like a cross between a Venus flytrap and a bone golem!
June 2, 2014 — 8:53 PM
brucearthurs says:
The last sentence seems more an example of telling, rather than showing. The protagonist knows how the monster’s victims die, but doesn’t know what such a monster is called? Might work better if the protagonist sees the withered remains of a previous victim in among the monster’s ribs, and speculates on their eventual fate.
June 3, 2014 — 4:28 PM
izombiheartzoey (@izombiheartzoey) says:
Once upon a time, before puberty came dripping two sisters made a pact. Ginger (Katharine Isabelle) and Bridgette (Emily Perkins) declared their fidelity to each other unto death. Immediately slipping into a montage of photographs where Ginger and Bridgette are posing in staged crime scene photos that they took for a class project Ginger Snaps declares being a teenage girl is like caught in a loop of your public suicide. Puberty explodes your body. Boobs and hair appear ex nihilo. Hormonal induced neurosis spills anarchy into into her self esteem and combines with a counter productive sex drive that declares a new found compulsion. Puberty is a traumatic transformation not unlike a werewolf emerging from you skin.
Source: http://interrogatingideologywithachainsaw.blogspot.com/2014/05/ginger-snaps-2002-puberty-menstruation.html#more
June 2, 2014 — 3:58 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
I’m very confused. About a lot of things.
First of all I was confused about why your characters had other names (I’m not hip to the popular culture, or whatever). Then I was confused about why you were switching subjects (your/her) in the middle of a paragraph.
Then I clicked your link, hoping it would provide a map out of Confusionland and I thought “Oh, okay, I’m reading a fanfiction.” And then I read a little bit more and got *really* confused because it read more like a synopsis. So I thought, “oh… I’m reading somebody’s review of something I’ve never heard of and don’t understand because this map out of Confusionland has HERE BE DRAGYNS written all over it and, oh shit, it just led me into a tar pit where I’m now floundering.”
Now I think that you’re just here to plug your site. And I feel kinda bad for responding here, it makes me feel like I’m validating your plug in some way.
Also, the film doesn’t really sound like my kinda thing. Werewolves aren’t as bad as Vampires (vampires used to be so cool, but Twilight has tarnished them) but I do feel that the supernatural market has been a little saturated with them recently. Not just Twilight, of course. The Underworld films were quite good, but it all started to get a bit silly towards the end, with the all-powerful hybrids (I thought the mythology of their creation was better than the execution).
I know ratings don’t always count for much, but I notice the film has a 6.8 on IMDB. That doesn’t sound too high, but the last film I watched (Paper Man) had an IMDB rating of 6.7 and I thought it was pretty good. And I’m not just saying that because it has Ryan Reynolds wearing spandex in it. I really mean it. That film gave me some serious feels.
Plus, you know, Jeff Daniels played a struggling writer, which is something 99% of people doing this paragraph stuff can relate to at least some of the time. Having a protagonist you can identify with really helps to establish an emotional connection to a film. And, granted, bits of it were very predictable, it wasn’t trying to be a crime film with a big reveal at the end, but a film about how people react, and make mistakes, and keep making those same mistakes their whole lives. Plus, Ryan Reynolds in spandex.
What do you think?
June 3, 2014 — 5:25 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
This is the last paragraph of my WIP Necromance. It’s my first novel, so I would love any feedback. Also, if you would like to put the paragraph into context, the book is about a girl stuck in a dream.
“So I guess that’s my story. I don’t know where I am now. I can’t see anything here; it’s too dark, and quiet. It didn’t work though. I’m not dead, and I’m still dreaming. If you’re reading this, then maybe there’s still hope. But when you wake up, you will forget about me, so it doesn’t really matter, does it? When you wake up, this will all be gone. So don’t worry about me, or yourself, for that matter. Don’t be afraid.
It’s all just one big, bad dream.”
June 2, 2014 — 4:06 PM
Curly says:
One question about the first sentence. Is this the first time the narrator has spoken to the audience, or about about this novel being their “story” they’re telling to someone? Because if you just spent an entire novel in regular old 1st person and then, out of the blue, broke the fourth wall at the end to talk to the reader, it feels really awkward. Otherwise – if your character has consistently been making direct comments toward “you” (the plural “you” being used to refer to the reader) – then it’s good.
June 2, 2014 — 8:07 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
I tried to put address the little throughout the book, as if the main character was actually telling a story. Thanks for the input.
June 2, 2014 — 10:41 PM
Mike W. says:
This is good…kinda chilling actually. It sounds like this is the final paragraph of the book.
June 2, 2014 — 8:30 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
It is. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 10:38 PM
Kiara says:
Dammit, that did sound nice. To have a full fridge and a decent car? An apartment that didn’t require me to close my eyes when I flipped on a light at night so I could still pretend I lived alone? And all it would take would be to make some other lives miserable. More miserable, as happy and decently paid, law-abiding people don’t generally sell drugs to kids.
I closed my eyes. This decision was going to be painful. “I don’t think I can do it, Karin. For any amount.”
June 2, 2014 — 4:09 PM
staceyfilak says:
I am intrigued, and I really “get” the full fridge line. Two things… The line that begins “More miserable…” Is a bit clunky. I think I know what you are getting at, but it reads sort of oddly. Secondly, if the decision is painful, then I’d like to feel that, a little. It feels abrupt. Otherwise, I’m very interested in where this is headed.
June 2, 2014 — 7:14 PM
Kiara says:
Yep, I think both of those miserable lines need to be re-worked. Wanted to see if my instincts were right. Thanks to you both!
For the curious, the context here is that my jar of peanut butter, no bread MC has been offered $50k to find this rich woman the name of someone who might have given her teenage sister’s boyfriend drugs. The MC is distrustful because she probably won’t get proof enough for the police, so that means the woman may decide to take matters into her own hands. There’s a history of her seeing influential people doing whatever they want to the poor people in their way, so she doesn’t want to be involved in that.
June 3, 2014 — 5:32 AM
Mike W. says:
Yeah, this definitely has an interesting vibe. Maybe you could set off the “more miserable” line with an em dash…make it part of the preceding sentence?
June 2, 2014 — 8:33 PM
staceyfilak says:
He was wrong, of course.
Lillia was brutally aware of how many times he had broken her. She knew that, given a safe place to sleep tonight, with people she trusted nearby, she’d have been a sobbing pile of snot and tears, wrapped up in a panther pelt. Hells, she was broken, right now.
But she didn’t have time to crumble, and she couldn’t afford to let her brother see it, anyway. She had to find a way out of here. Revenge would have to wait, because in that regard, Calis had been right. At this moment, he was the weaker of her enemies.
She would use him, if she could. But she would never trust him.
June 2, 2014 — 6:25 PM
Mike W. says:
Lillia sounds pretty intense! I’m not sure if you need the comma between “it” and “anyway”, but overall it’s pretty good.
June 2, 2014 — 8:37 PM
staceyfilak says:
Thank you! It wasn’t a very fair place to drop you, as I am currently working on the 3rd book in a trilogy, but it was where I was at, so…
I agree about the comma. Thanks.
June 2, 2014 — 8:41 PM
Q. Kelly says:
I feel sorry for my hero. Or heroine. I wish he or she would reach out. Somehow. I’d say: “Don’t beat yourself up. Zachary had it coming. In fact, I’m quite grateful. How about dinner? My treat.”
June 2, 2014 — 6:28 PM
Mike W. says:
This is interesting; sounds like someone was “rescued” by an anonymous person and is grateful but can’t find their benefactor to express it. Definitely intriguing 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 8:42 PM
Taren Paige says:
To put this into some kind of context, this is a half-page excerpt I wrote years ago and I hated it. But only recently has it blossomed into a full-fledged novel based on the concept it proposes, and fits in a way that I can now tolerate it.
“It is thought that every human-being has a ‘light’ inside them – a sort of fire, you might say. It dims and brightens and needs a constant fuel supply: hope, ambition, any reason to continue on in life, a meaning to keep living. Not everyone’s flame is the same, because with different lives came different Fires. And there are some out there who are unlucky enough to not have a flame inside them.
These ‘people’ are forced to feed on others’ inner fires, and never die, cursed to live forever in the same never-ending cycle of killing and destroying lives. They latch onto someone until that person dies, slowly absorbing their fire by destroying their hope in life, until none is left. They feed on dying flames and forever will, until they are killed by the only people who can: their own kind – the people who are destined to suffer the same as them.
Or, they find the undying flame that lives on in that one person in the world. It passes from one human to another, hiding amongst the ordinary flames. It dims and brightens like any other, yet can never be extinguished. It is thought that when this flame is finally destroyed, then the cursed ones will cease to exist, and become ordinary humans, holding fires of their own.
But that flame has been lost to all of time…
A needle in a haystack…
Trying to discover the Eternal Flame in a field of dying Fire…”
June 2, 2014 — 7:03 PM
Mike W. says:
This sounds really interesting. It makes me think about all the people I know and what their different “fires” would be like (and my own for that matter); a cool concept.
June 2, 2014 — 8:40 PM
Taren Paige says:
Thank you!
June 3, 2014 — 2:25 PM
fadedglories says:
This is a good exposition. Are you sing it as an opening chapter or as a prologue? I know some people hate prologues, but they can be handy used as a teaser.
I only have one quibble. Where you begin “Or, they find the undying flame that lives on in that one person in the world.” The sentence doesn’t work for me. I’d drop the “Or” and rewrite the whole sentence. Maybe something like this: “There is one flame that burns stronger than all others.It passes from one human to another, hiding amongst the ordinary flames.etc etc.
It’s intriguing and I’d want to read more.
June 3, 2014 — 2:10 AM
Taren Paige says:
It’s a legend, sort of like Spoken Word Poetry, the way they’d tell it and the others.
I get what you mean about that sentence, but the suggestion wouldn’t really work, because the whole thing is that the Eternal Flame is isn’t stronger, brighter, whatever than any other Fire – that’s how it can hide so well – but that it resonates with each and every one it comes into contact with, inspiring them without either party really aware as to what’s happening.
That’s explained through actions later in the book lol
June 3, 2014 — 2:28 PM
Curtis Lyon (@convivialcurt) says:
“A deep rumble shook every house, office building, school, and parking garage on the planet. Everything started to crumble. High above, a looming red sun burned, solar flares flashing through the clouds and turning those who stared a second too long into crisps.
The earthquakes caused by the increasingly frequent solar flares usually ended by now, but this one seemed to last for hours longer. The strong winds carried a loud, blaring siren.
The skyscraper in the crater was shaking. Through the dust storm just starting to blow in, a bright light twinkled softly from the roof. The top floor began to rotate clockwise. The floor beneath that began to rotate counter-clockwise. The shaking became more violent as each floor began to rotate counter to the one above it, ending at the twelfth floor. And then the building began to collapse.
Wait, not collapse, per say. A better word would be telescoping. The building was adjusting itself to correspond to the newly adjusted parameters of its existence: these disappearing floors simply did not matter anymore. After the twelfth floor – after millions of previous floors in a sequence that made its way upwards toward the skylight on the roof – only the top floor would matter. While, technically, the operations of each floor were simultaneous, each operation relied entirely on the success and route of the operation taking place underneath it. The civilization who built this strange building did not pay too much attention to proper sequence, though.
The transformation of the building, terrifying to those trapped within it, was complete in less than a minute. The mission was to end with one final Session: and now, it was time to find another set of players.”
June 2, 2014 — 7:58 PM
Scott Roche says:
I like it. It’s descriptive, especially the first paragraph. The forth para kills the momentum. I’d tighten it up some. Also watch passive voice and the phrase “began to”
June 3, 2014 — 10:15 AM
Curly says:
Thanks, Scott. I never even noticed any of that.
June 6, 2014 — 4:19 PM
Scott Roche says:
You’re welcome.
June 6, 2014 — 4:51 PM
Pat says:
WIP: (Second Antagonist)
He was left with rage and resentment. Shame and secrets. He had to constantly monitor his impulses and control his hands. He needed to keep them occupied. He played hymns on an acoustic guitar to unwind and to have something constructive to do with them. He fantasized about garroting with the thinnest wire. Imagined the highest notes he made while playing as screams. In public, his hands were often in his pockets.
June 2, 2014 — 8:01 PM
Mike W. says:
This is intense…sounds like a horror-type story. You could maybe drop the words “while playing”, since the rest of the sentence gives enough context.
June 2, 2014 — 8:45 PM
Pat says:
Thanks! good suggestion…it does work well that way. I appreciate the input.
June 3, 2014 — 5:02 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
This is really cool. I would by a book just based on that. Actually, you could use that as a blurb. 🙂
June 2, 2014 — 10:45 PM
Pat says:
Thanks for the offer! *giggles*
June 3, 2014 — 5:03 PM
Ichi-sama says:
A little note:
It wasn’t originally in english. I tried my best at translating it (thank you, my dear friend, google translate), but maybe some sentences sound kinda stuck.
This is from my WIP. Samantha and some other people find out something pretty weird happened around them, and they explore a little. In this paragraph, they’re in a cafe.
Thanks for any feedback. 🙂
Across the room stood Jill. He knelt on the floor in front of something. Samantha moved slightly forward and narrowed her eyes: it was a white ceramic pitcher, or at least what’s left of it. It seems it fell and shattered into pieces. Black liquid surrounded it, touching the silver tray resting a few inches away. For a moment, it looked to Samantha like the scene of a murder.
“What’s that awful smell?” Samantha asked in disgust, when close enough to Jill.
He looked up at her. “The gas was turned on. Pans in the kitchen just continued to simmer until the food was burned.”
“Well, this isn’t very responsible,” commented Samantha. Her nose began to get used to the smell, and she let go of her shirt and leaned slightly to examine the broken jar. In the burning stench she managed to discern a whiff of coffee. It was likely the black liquid in the pitcher.
June 2, 2014 — 8:15 PM
Mr Urban Spaceman says:
Oh man, this is always so difficult when writing in (or translating from) another language. So much can be lost in a translation. Although I understand perfectly what you’re writing, and what you’re attempting to portray, but I think a lot of the subtle nuance is missing. I’ll try to offer a little creative/technical feedback rather than commenting on your idea (which is fine, IMO).
In English, Jill is a female name, so reading ‘he’ directly after Jill’s name was a bit confusing.
When writing (or, probably more accurately, translating), there is no need to describe every single action a character takes. For example, if I wanted to describe my day to you, I wouldn’t do it this way:
“I woke up. Then I went to work. After work I went to the supermarket, where I bought some refried beans. Then I went back home and cooked chimichangas.”
Technically it does tell you everything I’ve done, but it’s a very disjointed way of doing it, and it doesn’t put any of my own personality into it. So instead, I would say:
“After I hauled myself out of bed, I went to the office and spent the whole day putting through calls for other departments. I was pissed off and exhausted by the end of the day, so to cheer myself up I swung by the supermarket after work, grabbed a couple of tins of refried beans, and made my favourite dinner; chimichangas.”
As you can see, this transforms my day from a list of things I did, into a basic narrative structure. The beginnings of a story (though I didn’t actually have chimichangas; I had a cheese and pickle sandwich).
So, if you look at, say, these sentences:
“Across the room stood Jill. He knelt on the floor in front of something. Samantha moved slightly forward and narrowed her eyes: it was a white ceramic pitcher, or at least what’s left of it. It seems it fell and shattered into pieces.”
Which read very much like a list of things, as my first description of my day. Your sentences tell us everything we need to know about the scene, but it doesn’t *flow*. If you were doing stage direction, then you’d need to make actions clear, but not if you’re telling a story through prose. There are many ways you could make your sentences flow, and here is just one example:
“Jill’s movement caught her eye, and Samantha took a step forward as her friend knelt beside the shattered remains of the ceramic white pitcher on the floor.”
This still tells you everything you need to know (Jill was standing, now he;s kneeling; Samantha is moving forward slightly; a ceramic white pitcher has fallen and smashed) but it does it without issuing blunt, direct descriptions. In other words, it *shows* as much as it *tells*. You don’t need to tell your audience that the pitcher seems to have fallen and shattered into pieces; they’ll know that’s what happened when Jill kneels beside the remains.
There are some other bits and pieces I could give feedback on but honestly, I think there’s plenty to be getting on with right here. English is a pain in the ass, even for native speakers, but it’s also a very flexible language that, when you’ve wrestled it into submission, can do great things. If a lot of your story (and author personality/voice) is being lost in translation, you might want to consider leaving the English aside for now and concentrating on perfecting it native first.
June 3, 2014 — 5:50 PM
hannahgivens says:
This is the current opening of my sci-fi WIP, feedback appreciated:
I will tell you the truth about Dr. Ristin Skuyler.
You’re imagining cracks opening up in the Earth and the humans falling into them, shouting to God for help. Governments shrieking for answers as the Earth-quakes built upon each other. Tidal waves crashing against shorelines, wildfires ravaging noble forests. The sky falling. The last sound heard from the planet was a scream, all Earth’s peoples unified in terror as chunks of their ancestral home blew apart from each other and its molten core spewed into space.
I am sure you have conjured many pictures like these, but do you know who Dr. Ristin Skuyler really was? I doubt it.
My publisher has informed me that no one wants to read a long backstory on the first page. I cannot imagine how you people get by, constantly in medias res, comprehending nothing. As you please. I will begin as late as I dare, decades after the explosion.
June 2, 2014 — 8:19 PM
pathaydenjones says:
Hi Hannah, Evocative, good imagery and pull sin the reader. I read aloud, and when I do I trip over “the humans” — this may be intentional, to kick the reader into thinking in another species context, but that conflicts with the sentence “I will tell you the truth…” which conveys familiarity with humans, as Dr. Skuyler isn’t introduced as “that human” Dr Skuyler. So I think it would be better to either convey the context switch when you refer to Skuyler, or if I am totally confused about this species context idea, drop “the humans” from the next paragraph.One other comment – governments shrieking for answers? I would imagine if the world was blowing up, everyone would be saying screw this job! Would governments hold their form or devolve into a mass of panicked people? It might convey better the total decompensation of humanity I am imagineing while the world blows up to say something about the mobs of poeple who are gonna be shrieking, perhaps. Anyway, I’m intrigued, write on!
June 3, 2014 — 12:18 AM
tracikenworth says:
To their other side, a carrier appeared. Its human clothes had long ago torn away and now exposed a thick, leathery, gray belly. Once a man, it must be nine feet tall, weighing in at over 300 lbs. Its round head, catlike ears erect, swiveled toward them as it voiced a low-pitched hiss.
June 2, 2014 — 8:40 PM
Mike W. says:
This is pretty good…the carrier sounds scary! I’m not sure about the “it must be nine feet tall” part…it doesn’t seem to fit with the past tense in the rest of the narrative; maybe “it must’ve been nine feet tall” would work?
June 2, 2014 — 8:50 PM
Chris says:
I’m not proud of what I did next. Them again I’m not exactly ashamed. I went out and got hammered drunk. It was like when you were a kid and you looked through one of those toys that showed pictures and if you flipped through them really quick you would get dizzy. That’s the way I remember that night. Ripping through a short album of half remembered slides then waking up in a wet nest of comic books and vomit.
June 2, 2014 — 9:11 PM
Anthony Laffan says:
I want to critique this but I cna’t, it is frigging awesome. Bravo sir, this is some awesome imagery. I’m curious as to the context around the scene. 😛
You could possibly combine the “it was like..” and the “that’s the way I remember…” into one sentence that is stronger, but as this is first person that could also lose some of the characterization of the narrator. Just a thought. Something like “My memory of the night is like one of those toys we had as kids where you’d flip through a bunch of pictures and if you did it really quick you’d get dizzy.”
Then again, doing that ruins the beautiful ending. Though maybe “that’s what the night was like, ripping through a short album…”
June 2, 2014 — 11:16 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Not “them again,” but “then again.” Nice start and metaphor.
June 3, 2014 — 9:38 AM
Chad Kapper says:
From one of my WIP:
The ground shook as the dust and debris fell from the rafters of the small rectangular-structured beachfront home. The quakes had remained a typical daily occurrence for years now, following the massive detonation. Myke brushed particles of the house from his hair and blew dust remnants from his nose. He walked over to the window and stared out into the vast gray ocean. He got lost in the flow of the poisonous waves that crashed onto the rocky terrain of the beach below. From his vantage point, the ocean stretched on out as far as his eyes could see as it disappeared into the murky haze at the horizon. There was nothing of substance out on the water, unlike the times before the war. No boats. No ships. No humans. No life in general. Not even the constant motion of the water seemed alive anymore. It was like everything and everyone had just drifted out towards the haze and got swallowed up by the phantom of the sea. Myke inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. He eyes filled with tears as he wiped them away.
June 2, 2014 — 10:53 PM
pathaydenjones says:
it’s probably late in the game. anyway, here goes in case anyone is still on….
Near the end she excused herself, taking her clutch, asking directions to the bathroom. If she had not already memorized the floor plan, she would have needed those directions, the place was that big. Her eyes took in all the details as she was trained. But training was not enough to soften the shock of how well the higher ranks lived. Back in Monmouth, she and old buddy Jones had snuck around, peeping on the local officials but they had nothing on Arora and his palace. It stung to see the natural hand-rubbed wood furniture, deep carpets, the artwork. She imagined what it would be like to sink into the deeply cushioned leather couch every day after work. Yet the privilege of luxury was what she fought against. With an effort she focused on the job at hand. Along the way Bridget admired a dried flower arrangement (in went a bug), then got ‘lost’ and thus ‘found’ the library where she planted two more bugs while flipping through an e.e. cummings first edition. One bug was for Fang, the other for Karl.
June 3, 2014 — 12:07 AM
fadedglories says:
This is very good.
I read it while waiting for the microwave to ping and then read it again. I’m writing my crit. straight away so you get at least one shot. There’s a lot of information in this one chunk. Your MC is female and sounds and maybe looks quite ordinary BUT she’s sneaking around some building and bugging it.
She has an agenda and she may be a terrorist, she’s also intelligent and educated.
I like her and hope she’s on the side of the angels.
I would definitely read on from this point.
June 3, 2014 — 7:00 AM
pathaydenjones says:
Hi Fadedglories thanks so much for commenting, I’ll be submitting the story for pub this week so in a few months after pink slips I’ll post on my blog and you could read it there 🙂 As far as the angels, Bridget plays a big part in the novel (near completion) but she’s ambiguous, as you’ll find from this story.
June 3, 2014 — 10:02 AM
cajetane says:
I really like this – strong pov, light touch with the exposition, good pacing, I’d like to read more 🙂
June 3, 2014 — 7:47 AM
pathaydenjones says:
TYVM – hope you do, someday, lots of Bridget in my various WIPs.
June 3, 2014 — 10:04 AM
Conrad Steenkamp says:
My post disappeared. How is this possible?
June 3, 2014 — 12:50 AM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
This is getting complicated, Grebs thought as he dangled, upside down, outside the bedroom window Guildster Flatneb, a very powerful and rich merchant. And that wasn’t the complicated part. Greb found himself hanging around like that like that every week. Twice a week if the pay was good and elections were coming up.
June 3, 2014 — 9:27 AM
pathaydenjones says:
This is a good hook and humorous, but I’d break up the first line or end after ‘Flatneb’ and try to imply the power and influence of Flatneb–that would be tough to do in this paragraph without breaking the flow and pace, so I’d put the intro of Flatneb in the following para. BTW you need an ‘of’ before Guildster I think,
June 3, 2014 — 10:13 AM
pamelacreese says:
There should be an ‘of’ between window and Guildstar. And, I believe, to keep the tenses correct, it would be ‘Greb found himself hanging around like THIS every week.’ I do enjoy your voice, it feels light-hearted and interesting. I would read more. Thanks for sharing.
June 3, 2014 — 6:59 PM
CJKeats says:
I just found this blog so am probably late, but I agree with the previous commenters, I will add: is it Grebs or Greb? The humorous take bodes well to keep one interested,for sure.
June 3, 2014 — 7:44 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Thanks everyone for catching the typos.
June 4, 2014 — 1:02 AM
Scott Roche says:
From my novel in progress, about a serial killer who may be insane or he really may be an ancient corn god’s bitch:
“You need to kill.” The voice came to him for the first time in weeks. Months?
“No. No I don’t.” He hissed through gritted teeth.
“Don’t what, Jake?” Bea placed the water close to him.
“Huh?” He looked up at her. “Oh I’m just thinking out loud.” He took the water, his hand shaking, and sipped noisily. He was grateful he hadn’t brought his sickle or mask. Or had he? It could be waiting out in the truck.
“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be right over there.” She walked back to her desk..
He watched her. She was very pretty for an older woman. Did she have anyone that loved her? Would anyone miss her if she were to die suddenly? He put the water down carefully, not wanting anything to spill. He could kill her, sickle or no sickle. He could wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze. Her eyes would bulge. She would bat at his strong hands. No. No he would tie her up while she was still alive and burn the whole library down. This place would go up like a tinder box.
June 3, 2014 — 10:08 AM
Inigo Sharpe (@IndigoSharpe) says:
Interesting, at first I thought it was going to be your typical stuff about resisting dark urges or whatever. However from your synopsis and the latter part of the reading where he just gives in it seems like he’s down to f-…uh murder. In which case it made the beginning portion where it starts off with that old fashion inner demon (literal or not) conflict feel a little out place. Though if it is a man resisting his dark urges it felt kind of humorous to see how easily he gave in. Plus it seems like he has a modus and everything, with the mention of the sickle and mask. So aside from my being unsure of whether central conflict for the killer that of a good man being forced to do bad thing or a killer who will kill on his own terms (because that’s how he rolls). It looks like it’ll be an fun read.
June 3, 2014 — 10:31 AM
Scott Roche says:
Thanks! It’s actually a case of a demon controlling a killer. Jake wants to kill, doesn’t mind it in fact, but he’s not necessarily happy with the demon’s terms and methods.
June 3, 2014 — 10:36 AM
Inigo Sharpe (@IndigoSharpe) says:
(From A Novel In Progress)
I sucked in a sharp breath. That anxiousness came back and this time it honestly almost brought me to my knees. I understood why the classics always spoke of cupid using arrows. Because right then it felt like I had to have been shot by “something”. She walked in like she always did. Like from something out of a dream. Her name was Rosaline Ryder. She had hair like waves of dark chocolate that rolled down the nape of her neck. Wore a simple black silk choker and had eyes so green that the very first time I met them, I really f*cking thought I’d gotten lost in the forest for a second.
“Hey.” a simple greeting but she said it with a small smile that made me weak at the knees.
“H-He-” I stuttered, startled, struggling to reply. Rosaline had arrived at this school about two months after I had. I’d noticed her on the very first day but this would the very first time I worked up the time to speak to her. Then suddenly….
“Hey girl! How the hell have you been?!”
Rudy stood big arms held wide. She jumped into them with a giggle that was downright magical. Meanwhile I swallowed my words wondering what the hell I was supposed to be thinking about right now. Wondering how many chances in hell that hug she was giving him was a platonic one.
“You know each other?” asked Mr.Sati looking unperturbed by the display.
Rudy just laughed as he continued to hold her, his arms around her waist as he kept her aloft.
“Something like that,Teach. Something like that.”
June 3, 2014 — 10:20 AM
CJKeats says:
From your writing, it sounds like you are a young person (my apologies if this is not so). Nonetheless I think you can revise it and make it much cleaner. Try reading your paragraph out loud and you might see what I mean.
‘Right then it felt like I had to have been shot by something’ could perhaps be better said: ‘Right then it felt like I had been shot (pierced) by one”‘, as you have referenced arrows already. ‘had to have been’ is very awkward. There are too many references to being brought to the knees, weak in the knees etc. Too many uses of the word ‘hell’ in one paragraph. You can find more and different words or sentences to project your characters feelings.
June 3, 2014 — 7:37 PM
Chad Kapper (@KNIVESINORBIT) says:
From one of my WIP:
The ground shook as the dust and debris fell from the rafters of the small rectangular-structured beachfront home. The quakes had remained a typical daily occurrence for years now, following the massive detonation. Myke brushed particles of the house from his hair and blew dust remnants from his nose. He walked over to the window and stared out into the vast gray ocean. He got lost in the flow of the poisonous waves that crashed onto the rocky terrain of the beach below. From his vantage point, the ocean stretched on out as far as his eyes could see as it disappeared into the murky haze at the horizon. There was nothing of substance out on the water, unlike the times before the war. No boats. No ships. No humans. No life in general. Not even the constant motion of the water seemed alive anymore. It was like everything and everyone had just drifted out towards the haze and got swallowed up by the phantom of the sea. Myke inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. His eyes filled with tears as he wiped them away.
June 3, 2014 — 2:56 PM
CJKeats says:
More of a comment on style then anything, as I get what the content of story is trying to say and I’m sure you have a great idea for where it is going. I would say ‘rectangular beachfront home’, and leave out the word ‘structured’. The word ‘typical’ is unnecessary as is the word ‘now’ in the second sentence. In the sentence that starts ‘from his vantage point’, the phrase ‘as it disappeared’ would be better served with ‘until it disappeared’, I think. The last sentence is confusing. Did his eyes fill with tears and then he wiped them away? Or did he wipe the tears away as they were filling his eyes?
All just my own opinion of course.
June 3, 2014 — 7:21 PM
chadkapper says:
Thanks CJ. I appreciate your points and I will go through those changes and fix them. It’s always nice to get that outward perspective. Thanks.
June 4, 2014 — 12:24 AM
Anna Lewis says:
Not quite the beginning of the WIP, but close:
The captives numbered about a dozen, their hands bound behind them and secured to tree trunks. They screamed for mercy as they watched others of their company burning to death. Hell moved quietly among the gathered tribe—who cast him questioning looks but gave him room once they saw the harpy feather he wore. One of the ranking men waved him over.
“Sailah, I bring your people greetings from the coast,” Hell said in Spanish, and the older man nodded. Hell looked back at the bonfire and those waiting to be put to the flames. “Who are your guests?”
The sailah grinned. “They told us they were lost and hungry, but despite our hospitality, it seems they have lost their appetites.”
“Indeed. Where did you find them?”
“Washed ashore in the bay during the last rain. Their boat was damaged and it sank. They had with them a few prisoners, but now they are all prisoners.”
“The Guna have always been fair in their dealings, to be sure,” Hell said, smiling grimly. These Spaniards could’ve come from anywhere. Settlements were popping up like weeds all through the Darien these days, despite his efforts to hinder their advance. The Guna did not tolerate incursions and this was their preferred method of dealing with intruders. “Have you killed all those who were prisoners to begin with? I’d rather like to speak with one, if any are able.”
June 3, 2014 — 4:06 PM
pamelacreese says:
well, that gets things off to a good start. Why the interest in the prisoners’ prisoners is a good question to lead readers forward in the story.
June 3, 2014 — 7:03 PM
CJKeats says:
Intriguing, makes me want to know more. Good work!
June 3, 2014 — 7:23 PM
fadedglories says:
I’m fascinated by this, not because it’s grim, but because you’ve set a scene very well. There’s a lot contained in this piece which seems to be set in the aftermath of a fight.Your character Hell is perhaps aptly named. He doesn’t sound over-friendly to visitors. Is he completely ruthless or just doing what he thinks necessary?
AND I must admit I want to read more because your Wip seems to be set in a time not too far from the setting of mine. I know where the Darien is, but not much more.
It’d be great to hear more from you.
June 4, 2014 — 2:37 AM
Anna Lewis says:
Why, thank you! (And big thanks to Pamela and CJKeats too! I appreciate your feedback and am glad that so far, it seems to work. I’m just now getting to read all these other great offerings; so much creativity in these posts!)
To your question: Hell is a walking train-wreck, a classic antihero, and this is the start of book #3 about him. (Nothing published yet. #1 is complete but in perpetual edit, and I’m pitching #2 for the first time this summer). He isn’t completely ruthless but definitely has his own agenda, and a VERY big bone to pick with Spain. A long time ago he had a full name, but he’s almost forgotten what it was. It’s just Hell now (*Captain*, to the crew), and that suits him just fine. Setting for this one is Panama and the Caribbean, mid-1600s. And I’d love to compare notes, because I’m on fact-finding missions now and am a total research junkie. You can find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/anna.lewis.corsair. 🙂
June 4, 2014 — 3:39 AM
fadedglories says:
Sent you a message on FB. It went to your ‘Other’ folder, whatever that is.
June 4, 2014 — 4:52 AM
Johan says:
The setting: the protagonist has just spoken to a man who told her the truth behind the events that scarred her for life.
He grabs the newspaper from the table and starts walking away. “But don’t go”, I whisper silently. He can’t hear me. I stand up and watch him until he’s at the payphone on the corner.
I yell “you didn’t pay for your coffee”. Sander Parga halts, shoves his hands down his pockets and picks up a coin that he makes blink in the sunlight. He puts it on the sidewalk, then he’s gone.
June 3, 2014 — 5:14 PM
CJKeats says:
I like this. It hints at past issues even if you hadn’t prefaced the paragraph. And the implied disdain by Parga is beautifully shown by his actions.
June 3, 2014 — 7:10 PM
Anna Lewis says:
Great tone to this one. I could see every moment, clear as day.
June 4, 2014 — 2:55 PM
Johan says:
Thanks for your comments, I really am happy that you took your time to read and say something. It may seems like an insignificant scene, but this is where it all turns for the leading lady. Even that coin could play an important role in the reading to come. Or not. I’m still on the fence with that one.
The “silently” is redundant, of course. The wording is much better in the original language, but I think I got the pacing and the mood right when translating it. Man, it’s hard to write in a second language.
June 5, 2014 — 5:10 PM
pamelacreese says:
Khyr tugged his shirt straight and loosely fastened the closures, his attention never leaving the Queen and her deadly toy. Unlike her to venture from the amenities and grandeur of the Amber Throne of Dawn. His swift glance swept the room. No fawning lackeys, or her usual entourage awaiting her every whim. No sign of serving maids or the King.
Not good.
June 3, 2014 — 6:39 PM
CJKeats says:
Nice and spare writing. Makes one curious about the situation and creates tension already. One tiny matter of opinion for style’s sake. I might replace ‘her usual entourage’ with ‘the usual entourage’ as you use ‘her’ in the next part.
June 3, 2014 — 7:26 PM
pamelacreese says:
thank you so much…wasn’t sure anyone would notice us down at the end 😉
June 5, 2014 — 5:33 PM
Anna Lewis says:
I liked this one, too. I’m still curious about her deadly toy. 🙂
June 5, 2014 — 5:36 PM
CJKeats says:
“HELP ME PLEAS!!”
Three words on the back of a receipt.
Someone had misspelled ‘please’. The words were written neatly, albeit urgently.
The sales receipt fell to the coffee-shop floor out from between the 10th and 11th pages of my recently purchased Dean Koontz novel. I had bought the book second-hand, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised—perhaps it was even fitting as my punishment for paying only half-price for a master thriller-writer’s creation.
After shoulder-checking for cameras or a laughing co-worker with a cell phone pointed at me, I pyramided the novel on the table, and picked up the slightly creased piece of paper to examine it more closely.
I had anticipated that the receipt would be for the very book I had started to read. Instead, it was for some other book called Sonburnt Cowboy, and it had cost the purchaser thirty-three dollars. I assumed the title on the receipt was a typo.
Everyone knows what happens when you assume.
June 3, 2014 — 7:08 PM
fadedglories says:
Good. Caught me hook, line and sinker. Something bad has happened and the Baddie can’t spell? Or he’s not from round these parts? Either way I want more.
Question: Is there a verb ‘to pyramid’ ?
June 4, 2014 — 2:45 AM
CJKeats says:
Thanks, very much appreciated. Using pyramided as a verb in this sense takes a bit of license, but I liked the image.
Merriam webster (online) provides:
Definition of PYRAMID
intransitive verb
1
: to speculate (as on a security or commodity exchange) by using paper profits as margin for additional transactions
2
: to increase rapidly and progressively step by step on a broad base
transitive verb
1
: to arrange or build up as if on the base of a pyramid
2
: to use (as profits) in speculative pyramiding
3
: to increase the impact of (as a tax assessed at the production level) on the ultimate consumer by treating as a cost subject to markup
So there is the verb use, just not as a description of setting a book down like a pyramid.
June 4, 2014 — 12:13 PM
Anna Lewis says:
Diggin’ this. As somebody who’s found some peculiar things in used books, it got me wondering! I saw “pyramided” as leaving the book open, edges down, to hold your place, but I admit I had to think about it a bit.
June 4, 2014 — 2:58 PM
CJKeats says:
Thanks for your kind words. This may be a case where although one likes a word it has to go because not everyone sees it clearly enough. I thought it was a good description of the action like you say: of leaving the book open, edges down to hold the place, but if it causes confusion the book will have to be left tossed whichever way the reader imagines. Luckily that part is not integral to the story, just a word I liked. Thanks again.
June 4, 2014 — 5:27 PM
Anna Lewis says:
It’s all good, and a pretty minor quibble, really. Maybe consider “tented”, to get the same visual?
June 4, 2014 — 5:35 PM
CJKeats says:
Thanks I tried it and it works just as well, and of course this exercise made me look at the whole paragraph and I have made some small changes to tighten it further. It never ends!
June 5, 2014 — 11:53 AM
Noel says:
First paragraph of a novel. Have at it!
Heather woke gasping and knew something had been taken from her. She bolted upright in the damp, tangled sheets. “Alex, wake up,” she said. “Something’s missing.” It had been in her mind a moment ago, but now it was gone. In its place was a fragment she couldn’t identify, like a word dangling on the tip of her tongue. What the fuck had she lost?
June 3, 2014 — 8:10 PM
abillyhiggins says:
I like it, because you create a really nice mystery. The word choices, “gasping,” ‘bolted” and “tangled,” all really evoke a sense of thrill. If I was reading the whole book, this paragraph would absolutely fling me towards the next one.
June 3, 2014 — 9:51 PM
pathaydenjones says:
Noel I like how this starts, but two things jarred me as I read: 1) First para of a novel you should be showing everything you got, literary-wise. “tip of the tongue”. A hoary old cliche and you certainly don’t want to start with a cliche in the first para, as hoary old editors and agents might take that as a harbinger of what is to come (more cliches…) and send you back into the slush pile so I would take the time to work up another way to express that feeling we all have had of a dream slipping away. 2) the “WTF had she lost” jarred me as the paragraph has a nice literary quality, then the narration goes all ‘verbal’ on the reader. Depends on your intent of course. I found it jarring, others might find it livens things up and the ‘voice’ of narration has a verbal quality to it.
June 3, 2014 — 10:26 PM
Noel says:
Thanks for the feedback! I’ll definitely rethink the cliche/try to find a way to rephrase. On the last line, I need to consider further. (There’s a lot of that “verbal” effect in the story–I’ll probably need to have people read through and tell me how well it works big-picture, in addition to how well it works here.)
Anyway, thank you again!
June 3, 2014 — 11:49 PM
CJKeats says:
Gotta say, I agree with pathaydenjones on the WTF comment, but disagree with the ‘tip of the tongue’ one. Now, I am not a published writer, or an editor, agent or publisher, so it is grain of salt time, but it seems to me that there are some cliches that are worn out and distracting, but others that are not really cliches but are common usages of our language and thus valid to use when writing. I would put tip of the tongue in the latter category, with the caveat that I recognize there might be better, more original ways to say the same thing. The whole waking-from-a-dream beginning is a bit of a cliche, anyway, am I right? But perhaps the whole story is about what happens while this person is asleep that causes her to forget things. In any case, you accomplish the goal of making me want to read more.
June 4, 2014 — 12:24 PM
Noel says:
Yeah, I’ve been worrying about the starting a book by waking up thing. At the same time, I feel like the moment a piece of her memory was erased (which is the thing that happened that she doesn’t quite get yet) is the right place to start it. I could experiment with having her memory erased when she was awake, but it seems harder to pull off. Something I need to think about.
Hm, that’s two for the “wtf” being jarring. Definitely also something I should think about, then.
June 5, 2014 — 8:23 PM
Noel says:
Oh, hm, looking over your comment again, it looks like I’ve been wildly unclear about something, which is really helpful to know. The thing she can’t quite remember isn’t a dream and has nothing actually to do with the fact that she was asleep–which is a very good argument for me trying harder to write this moment with her awake.
Thanks for making me realize that!
June 5, 2014 — 8:26 PM
CJKeats says:
Maybe while doing something mundane, routine, done every day like having coffee with Alex that makes her realize a piece of memory is gone?
June 5, 2014 — 9:49 PM