It’s that time again, word-nerds.
The comments on this post is now an open forum where you can drop a paragraph of your work-in-progress (aka “WIP”) — limited to ~100 words or so. Pop it in the comments and others may offer some critique — critique not meaning, “Tear it to shreds,” but rather, “An evaluation of the good and bad elements of the work.”
(This is salient, by the way, as this week I’ll have a short post about critique.)
The one rule is:
If you post a paragraph for critique…
You must then also offer critique for someone else’s paragraph.
Quid pro quo, Clarice.
As to what paragraph you choose?
You might choose an opening paragraph, or a paragraph that’s giving you some trouble.
Good luck.
Be kind.
Be constructive, not destructive.
Go forth and help one another.
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Fen watched the river roll as she sat in one of the scouting spots much further downstream. They heard the two patrol boats crawling up river on their oars long before seeing them. The second boat had an elevated chair where sat a masked figure, a man and a tall one at that for a Kingdom man. When she got a good look at his mask, her heart stopped and a chill went up her spine that was quickly replaced with a burning fury. When she whipped around to Yi, he backed up from her fierce glare, though she didn’t care.
“Get Arwin here.”
February 16, 2015 — 1:42 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
I’ve mentioned this in a bunch of my previous comments, but. . . . You should know that in-scene writing grabs me immediately. Great job here. 🙂
The only thing that sticks out to me as needing improvement is the phrase, “though she didn’t care.” It breaks the flow of the sentence.
February 16, 2015 — 2:25 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Thanks. I guess just end the sentence at “glare”?
February 17, 2015 — 3:00 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
No problem 🙂 I’m interested to see where this story goes.
February 17, 2015 — 5:51 PM
Matt Black says:
This was really good. Definitely want to read more of this. Is it the beginning of a story/chapter? Because it really grabs me.
I have one criticism: It says “…further downstream…” which makes it seem like Fen is looking upriver. But the boats are “…crawling up the river…” which would mean they are coming from further downstream than Fen’s position.
Also, if it’s a rolling river, it seems like she wouldn’t hear the boats before seeing them.
February 16, 2015 — 7:02 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
‘K. Rolling is too strong then.Thanks for your patience, though.
February 17, 2015 — 3:03 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
The paragraph is actually a plot twist near the middle of the book. Here’s how the first two short paragraphs of the book goes.
Fen hated how the heavy dress squeezed her like a giant Southern snake. It barely gave her room to breathe – never mind move. The Imperial coach’s bumpy ride made it worse as it jostled her into every sharp corner of the seat and onto her tailbone. All of it felt like a trap wrapped in fine silks and embroidery.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Arwin pulling at his tight shirt collar as he rolled his eyes and sighed. He sweated under a heavy jacket and the matching hat kept slipping off his head. He tried to hold onto an ornately carved box, which released tiny puffs of smoke. The siblings silently shared their pure hate for these ridiculous clothes.
February 19, 2015 — 11:32 AM
tedra says:
Hi. In your third sentence, “where sat”, it breaks the sentence for me, making me read it several times. Further down in the same sentence, “a man and a tall one”, sounded like two people to me. So I was confused going into sentence four.
February 17, 2015 — 6:42 AM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Thanks for the heads up. I’ll simplify that.
February 17, 2015 — 3:01 PM
Gon says:
May I suggest: “A man – and a tall one at that –”
The dashes allow for an easier reading of that phrase
February 17, 2015 — 5:15 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Good call.
February 17, 2015 — 8:44 PM
Jana says:
This paragraph is a quick read. It’s thick with preparing for action, which raises the stakes for the reader as we’re trying to decide what will happen next. Structurally there are a few things which could be tightened. Phrases like ‘much further’ to describe downstream aren’t needed and without knowing much further than what, it throws the reader out of the sentence. You may also want to consider the description of the figure which feels like a bit of a pile on of additional description. A masked figure. A male masked figure. A tall male masked figure. A tall Kingdom man masked figure. It might be smoother to do something like: …where sat a tall masked man, very tall for a Kingdom man.
The last two sentences both start with the same two words which also affects your flow. In the second case saying ‘When she’ takes some of the emotion out of her action. If you just leave it She whipped, around to Yi, it’s direct and carries that rage and urgency she’s feeling.
She whipped around to Yi, who looked away from her fierce glare, uncomfortable. She didn’t care. “Get Arwin here.”
Anyway… Just a few things to think about. A good way to do paragraph deconstruction is to read your work out loud or have someone read it to you. Anything that makes the reader struggle or have to reread should be rephrased. Still…good call to action and quick characterization. Well done.
February 20, 2015 — 12:21 PM
Christopher Robin Negelein says:
Loved the suggestions! Love the tightened sentence.
February 20, 2015 — 2:27 PM
Jana says:
Happy to assist.
February 20, 2015 — 9:26 PM
Cassandra says:
My heart raced along behind my ribs. I thought it would dart through my skin and my friends would find me in the morning with a gaping hole in the center of my chest. I had to be hallucinating. This was a nightmare. I wasn’t looking down at Chris as his limbs contorted. I wasn’t trapped in an RV with a monster, curled up in a ball, trying to pretend to be asleep. I wanted to shout, but I knew I was trapped if I called attention to myself, and I couldn’t put the two girls in the back bedroom at risk like that. I didn’t know what Chris was going to do. On that top bunk, I had nothing in reach to protect myself with except for my own fists. Fear came over me and filled my throat like silt. My sense of rationality buckled like a piece of paper between hands…
February 16, 2015 — 1:48 PM
Hannah Fairbairn says:
It’s amazing. Reminds me of something that should be in Walking Dead. I desperately want to know what is happening to your character and it’s great that its first person. So much tension and anxiety. It would have even more tension if it were in present tense, happening at that moment instead of re-telling one.
February 16, 2015 — 3:55 PM
MrsBevyChurch says:
So far I am enjoying where this is headed. Big fan of creepy things and anything dark/sinister. Seems like there’s a bit going on in a few of the sentences though. Might need a few more breaks set up within them? I’m not an expert by any means so I could be wrong. Other then that I’d really like to see more. Very interesting.
February 16, 2015 — 7:40 PM
tedra says:
Hey. I believe sentence six should be two sentences bit otherwise good job. Great intensity.
February 17, 2015 — 6:45 AM
Meredith says:
Here is the first paragraph of my WIP, a historical fiction novel set in 17th-century Scotland about Maeve, the younger sister of a clan chieftain who believes she is cursed….
The ravens came the day I was born. They squawked as they jostled on the rooftops, bringing their black curse upon me. The first sounds I heard as I entered this world were the scraping of their talons on the slate, and my mother’s screams. Or – so it is in my dreams.
She nearly died pushing me into this cold, rainy world. Now she is gone, but the ravens remain. They croak from the treetops when I walk past, watching me, like the villagers peeking from their windows. The ravens tease me with their obsidian voices, disdainful of my attempts to ignore their curse, to fight the misfortune that has followed me since they came.
So on the morning of my twenty-first birthday, when I heard the ravens land on the roof yet again, and pounding footsteps on the stairs, I felt some new ill-luck must have found me.
February 16, 2015 — 1:54 PM
Ashlee Jade says:
Frankly I’m having trouble finding anything to criticise in this snippet. The imagery of the ravens is very vivid and well done, the voice of the narrator too, in my opinion, is excellent.
The only thing I have slight trouble with is the fact that the mother almost died in childbirth, but actually died sometime later, the main source of this (very slight) confusion is that you have her ALMOST dying and then a reference to her actual death directly next to it. With the cliches of most stories, this could leave some readers thinking she actually did die in childbirth. I realise this isn’t a problem for the majority of attentive readers but… I don’t know, it could cause some confusion? Like I said, there’s very little to criticise about this paragraph, so I’m kind of grasping as straws, and of course I haven’t read the rest of the book (but after reading this, I want to) and so am looking at it without context, which makes it really hit and miss.
Either way, great preview, good luck with whatever you decide to do with it!
February 16, 2015 — 8:11 PM
Meredith says:
Thank you so much for your feedback! I agree with you about that phrase. It’s something that is explained in more depth in the novel, but I will try to tweak it so it is clearer in the first paragraph. If you’re interested, I think I will post more on my (very new) blog.
February 17, 2015 — 11:43 AM
Mercedes says:
This is attention-grabbingly-good. Ms. Ashlee makes a good point about the reference to the mother, but overall, you get that creepy sense that there’s plenty not right in this character’s world. Since she’s cursed, you instantly wonder if she’s a good girl at heart, doomed to commit evil…or the other way around?? Plus, I imagine you have a solid start to a series here. Fantastic job!
Best to you!
Mercedes
February 16, 2015 — 8:54 PM
Meredith says:
* Insert delighted squeak * Thank you! I was hoping the murky/creepy mood would come across right away. I won’t say which one Maeve is, but I’m starting to wish I had written the opposite! It does end in a bit of a cliff-hanger, so yes I think it will turn into a series.
February 17, 2015 — 11:54 AM
Mercedes says:
Good for you. So glad to hear you’re well on your way to having a great story. Maybe we can connect / keep in touch on FB and the like?
February 17, 2015 — 5:10 PM
Joyce C says:
I’m with Ashlee: there is nothing to pick on with this flawless excerpt. I need to read more of your writing! Could you please share your blog address and be my critique partner? (I’m coming on too strongly, aren’t I? Damn, I can never get the whole human interaction thing right.)
Anyway, here’s the opening of my urban fantasy novel:
These are the fruits of promises made. They bear the weight – so firm, feel it – of sworn oaths and crossed hearts.
At dusk they flourish, dangling off spindly half-withered branches, amidst weeds and lone bushes, out of sight. Come sunset, they will be easy to pluck. Warm as skin and just big enough to fit into the palm, they snap clean off the branches with a firm twist.
You would be surprised at how many there are. It often takes me the whole night to pick my fill. People make promises too easily, and many leave them unfulfilled, which can only bode well for us.
The bad ones, you see, are the best kind. The kind that you can gorge on, all the pleasure minus the guilt. Just one fruit alone, as big as a persimmon, can keep you sated for days.
The beginning of the year is the best time for harvest. New Year resolutions, fresh starts and blank slates, all of them broken and sullied in about a month or two. Unfortunately, this is also the time when competition is the toughest, and the best fruits are meant for the fiercest monsters. But what’s left is ours for the taking.
We are scavengers. Parasites, if you must. Names don’t bother me; I see it as Darwinism. We do what we must to survive, even if there are those who think we don’t deserve to exist.
Every broken promise costs you your blood, whether you notice it or not. Often, you don’t. But that is when the fruits grow swollen with blood and stain the soil scarlet.
Tonight, the branches will sag, the fruits ripe and ready for our taking. Tonight we will race to harvest.
February 17, 2015 — 3:00 AM
tedra says:
In all honesty, this doesn’t seem like an UF. Could it be dystopian? There is just a lot of imagery used that you dont normally associate with UF. At least not at the beginning. UF usually start off with some big element happening, then the fluff comes after a problem has been established. Feel free to break the rules by all means, you have the right but maybe rethink your genre as well.
February 17, 2015 — 6:53 AM
Alecia says:
Joyce – I love this concept of the promise eaters, but I agree withTedra that for an opening it does not read as urban fantasy. (Although I felt more fantasy than dystopian) I suggest leading with the Sentence from the 5th paragraph and provide more of a link to the urban side of things. Something like this maybe?:
The beginning of the year is the best time for harvest. They make their New Year resolutions, all fresh starts and blank slates. Unknowingly, they feed all of us as the promises are broken and sullied in about a month or two.
February 17, 2015 — 9:03 AM
Meredith says:
To Joyce C – Thank you so much! (Assuming you were replying to my first post – if not, sorry!) I’m thrilled you like it and want to read more. I think I will post a bit more on my blog – but not gonna lie – I am very new to the blogging world…
https://northseawriter.wordpress.com/
Your excerpt was fascinating to read – I could almost sense the ripe fruit, your imagery was so descriptive. The voice of the main character was very compelling too. I don’t know much about the genre specifics of urban fantasy vs. dystopian fantasy, but I am definitely interested in reading more!
February 17, 2015 — 12:08 PM
Joyce C says:
Tedra, Alecia, and Meredith: Thank you so much for your honest feedback! Will definitely re-think the genre and make adjustments to the prose 🙂 I’m at thewritesofpassage.wordpress.com if you’re interested in following, by the way. Good luck with your manuscripts!
February 18, 2015 — 12:00 AM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
Oooh, I love the idea of broken promises costing blood. This came across as fantasy to me, but I honestly don’t care what you call it, it drew me in and I’d love to read more.
February 18, 2015 — 5:55 AM
Joyce C says:
Thanks, Ashlie! I’d be happy to swap pages if you have any. What’s your genre of choice? You can always find me at my blog — I try to post short stories (mostly fantasy) as regularly as I can 🙂
February 18, 2015 — 9:50 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
Hi Joyce! I’m into YA dystopian and fantasy, but I also love literary fiction and historical fiction. I’m going to check out your blog!
February 19, 2015 — 5:58 AM
Gon says:
Most of what I wanted to say has already been said. However, I feel that calling a voice obsidian is not really sound (no pun intended), and though it feels sinister, it doesn’t seem to mean anything. Other than that, you got yourself an amazing novel in the making.
February 17, 2015 — 11:48 AM
Meredith says:
Ooh yes, you make a good point. That particular adjective has been giving me sass. At first it was “croaking”, but I wanted something sharper sounding (I guess voices can be described as sharp, right?). Then I thought of “obsidian” as I thought it conjures up the idea of jagged edges and hardness, and the color black too…But I will try and rethink it. Thanks very much for your feedback, I really appreciate it!
February 18, 2015 — 10:18 AM
Jana says:
I like this very much. The term obsidian voices is particularly wonderful. Unless it’s important to the story that the mother didn’t die in child birth you may just want to let he die then as an additional issue for your protag and to decrease confusion. The only sentence that really leaps out of me as being out of flow is the very last one. Starting with ‘So..blah blah blah…’ feels like a much more modern structure than the rest of it and it might carry more punch as two sentences. Hearing the ravens, and then the footsteps and the ill-luck. Beautifully written though. I’d read more.
February 20, 2015 — 12:36 PM
M.A. Crosbie says:
Thanks for this, you make some really great points that I will definitely consider! I’m going to be posting more on my blog soon
https://northseawriter.wordpress.com/
February 23, 2015 — 11:46 AM
A. A. Woods says:
This is an excerpt of my YA Science Fiction novel about a young man (Ben) who is abducted by intergalactic spirits and thrown into the action-packed world of the human colonists living in space. In this section, he and a young rebel, Zeus, have entered the Apep Races, a dangerous high-speed race done on the backs of dragon-like creatures called Apeps. Thank you for any comments, and hope you enjoy!
———————————————————————————————————————————————
Ben’s scream froze in his throat as Abraxas leapt fluidly over the side of the platform and plummeted towards the mountain, wings pressed tight into his great flanks. Ben’s hands may as well have been fused to the side of the saddle he was clutching it so tightly. His insides were far behind him on the top of the hovercraft. All around them Apeps were falling like missiles towards the dusty ground far, far below.
“Ben, the lever!” came Zeus’s voice in his ear, barely audible over the rushing of the wind past his helmet. Jerkily, Ben detached one of his hands and pulled the lever, instantly grabbing hold again as he felt himself slide forwards. The screens flickered to life and he was able to see their team, a dark blue dot falling towards the steep slope. Looking forwards, he saw the mountain’s peak approaching them, growing exponentially larger. Zeus was hunched in front of him, pressed as close to Abraxas as he could be without putting his head down. Abraxas tucked tighter and the snowy rocks grew closer.
February 16, 2015 — 1:54 PM
Nellie says:
I like this a lot. It jumps right into the action and from the description I feel as if
I’m plummeting down with the character. I want to know what comes next.
February 16, 2015 — 10:58 PM
A. A. Woods says:
Thank you! I’m going to start posting more excerpts and teasers on my blog if you’re interested. 🙂
February 17, 2015 — 12:37 PM
Heretic Husband (@HereticHusband) says:
This is the first chapter of the science fiction novel I’m working on. Enjoy!
—-
Chapter 1
Name, Rank, Serial Number
“Jack Fletcher. Captain. Serial number zero two nine one zero whiskey bravo.” The words had become rote over the years, rolling off his tongue without thought.
His interrogator sighed. “You said this drug would work on humans, doctor.”
“Give it time.” replied the doctor.
Another sigh.
Bursts of white light exploded across Jack’s field of vision, a cluster bomb of narcotics that destroyed his resolve. He hadn’t seen anything that white in a long time. Prisons were, as a rule, dirty.
“Angels.” he muttered. If the lights were angels, they took no interest in his plight.
“Read this.” His interrogator thrust a palmtop into his hand.
Jack furrowed his brow at the words on the screen. “What’s this?”.
“Your confession.”
It seemed like such a reasonable request. But there were other words he was supposed to say, words he just said a moment ago…
He blinked, and a woman appeared beside him.She was maddeningly familiar. Her name danced on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach behind the drug induced haze. She was about his age, early forties, with a touch of grey in her hair, and she wore a red cocktail dress. The way her face crinkled when she smiled almost made the interrogation worthwhile.
What was he supposed to say? He looked at the computer in his hand. Why not just read what was on the screen? What did it matter? Just words, after all.
The woman cupped his face in her hands.
“Jack Fletcher. Captain. Serial number zero two nine one oh whiskey bravo.” she whispered.
Ah, yes, that was it. Who needs angels, anyway?
He repeated the words, much to his captor’s dismay.
The interrogator drew his sidearm and pointed it at him. A white hot burst of adrenaline cut through the fog in his brain for a moment.
“Sarah.” he said, but she had disappeared.
The door to the room exploded. His captors were cut down by brutally precise bursts of automatic weapons fire. He blinked in surprise when he saw his rescuers. They were not human but Epsilon, the same race as his captors.
“General Na’Groth, he’s alive.” said one of the soldiers, speaking into a headset. He spoke in his own language, but Jack knew enough of it to get by.
Na’Groth. Of course.
Na’Groth strode into the room as if it were a restaurant. He pushed the body of the interrogator off of a chair and sat on it, facing Jack.
“Captain Fletcher.” he said, smiling. “A pleasure to see you again.”
“What…what’s happening?” Jack said. Shock had given him some of his wits back, but his brain still felt full of static.
Na’Groth motioned for someone to enter the room. It was another doctor. She removed the IV and produced a syringe.
“Antidote.” she said, speaking English. Jack hesitated a moment, then nodded.
The injection cleared the static, leaving him with a headache and a yearning to see Sarah again.
“When I first joined the military, our first assignment was to put out an enormous forest fire.” Na’Groth said. “Do you know what we did?”
Jack could hear the staccato of machine guns throughout the prison now.
Na’Groth continued. “We started other fires. To reduce the amount of vegetation that the other fire could use for fuel.”
Another explosion, followed by screams.
“Thirty years later, and I find myself doing the same thing.” he sighed.
“Civil war.” Jack said.
“I assure you, captain, there is nothing civil about it.” Na’Groth said. “But the war between our worlds has burned too long and consumed too much. It must end, and if I must fight my own people to accomplish that goal…”
He sighed and produced another palmtop from a pocket on his uniform, and handed it to Jack. The document on it’s screen read TREATY BETWEEN THE PEOPLES OF EARTH AND EPSILON THREE.
“This treaty took effect this morning.” Na’Groth said. “Part of it dictates that Earth will be allowed to establish a military presence in the Epsilon system. It also dictates that I am allowed to choose it’s commander. I chose you, captain.”
“Why me?” asked Jack.
Na’Groth shrugged. “I know you.”
“As an enemy.”
“If I had any human friends, I would have picked one of them. You are a known quantity, Captain. I have met you in battle, and know you to be an honorable man. That will have to suffice.”
Jack was silent for a moment before speaking. “You got the UN to agree to this? They must be desperate.”
“Yes.” replied Na’Groth. “They, like yourself, have no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” Jack said.
“Indeed.” said Na’Groth, smiling. He scrolled the palmtop to a second document.
This one read UNITED NATIONS MILITARY POLICE – WARRANT FOR ARREST. It featured a picture of Jack.
“The choice, such as it is, is yours, Captain.” Na’Groth said.
February 16, 2015 — 2:01 PM
angeliquejamail says:
This was fun to read. 🙂 Is it the entire first chapter? Despite its brevity, it could work as a whole one, I would think. Even though we’re introduced to multiple names, most of them are common and in English, so it’s not a struggle to remember them, and the one which isn’t is easy to pronounce. Again, no stumbling. There are familiar elements (civil war, UN, the situational setting) as well as unfamiliar things to pique our interest. We get a strong sense of conflict and what’s at stake, but the whole plot isn’t given away. I would continue reading this.
February 16, 2015 — 8:41 PM
Heretic Husband (@HereticHusband) says:
Thanks! I misread the OP, thought it was the first 1000 words instead of 100 (whoops). It’s not the entire first chapter, but the other scenes involve other characters.
February 16, 2015 — 9:28 PM
Catkins says:
This is really good. I think you’re a very good writer, Jack is real and complicated, I like him. This is really very good. No criticisms.
February 17, 2015 — 9:16 AM
ChelseaIRL says:
I totally want to read more of this. I love the way you get a sense of Jack just from the way the words have “become rote over the years.” I also love that we get Sarah is important to him, yet someone unattainable whether by distance or death. And his “choice” is fantastic, as well as Na’Groth’s knowledge of Jack. Knowing that he’d need to give him no other choice. Makes him a formidable adversary that I’m interested to see more from.
February 17, 2015 — 2:03 PM
Michael E. Henderson says:
The writing is decent. There are some punctuation issues, but a good line edit would fix that. My only real complaint is that I don’t know who these people are. We start right off in a scene where the person I presume to be the main character is being interrogated and drugged. But I don’t care. I don’t know whether he’s the good guy or the bad guy, and we haven’t been given any reason to give a rat’s keester. I’m like, yeah, let’s a blowtorch and a pair of pliers and see whether this Jack Fletcher prick confesses.
It is a common issue because people are told to start in the middle of something. I think that’s been misinterpreted to mean start right out with your main character in danger, or in circumstances where it’s implied we should care, but before we’ve met them. Who are they? Let me get to know them first, or give me something right quick that develops character and makes the character sympathetic.
February 17, 2015 — 2:35 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
This is the first paragraph to a fantasy/romance I started less than a month ago. Have fun tearing it to pieces. XD
*****
I had grown up believing that the Celanesians were evil. Since I was a child with rational thought enough to comprehend whatever knowledge my elders threw at me, my mind had been trained to call the foreigners “damn bastards” or “selfish thieves.” Of course, I had never actually seen one at that time. I had only heard stories from the others, some of them who had never seen one either, and had only received their bit of information from someone else. But when you live in a secluded village with naught to do but listen to stories and ramblings at the crowded tavern or at your neighbor’s last social event, sometimes you begin to believe some of the gossip.
*****
February 16, 2015 — 2:05 PM
deb lacativa says:
Sabrina…you and I have the same devilment, as our writing group leader called it. The word ‘had’ is used five times…I think four of them could be done away with making for some tighter writing.
February 16, 2015 — 6:16 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
Thank so much! Gah! I know I’ve made this mistake before. It gets so difficult when I’m trying to write from the perspective of a character looking back on their life. I’ll definitely cut out some of the “had’s.” 🙂
February 17, 2015 — 5:53 PM
angeliquejamail says:
I like this. 🙂 It sets up a conflict, establishes voice, and gives us only one proper name to contend with. My only concern is the word “naught,” only because it seems incongruent with the modern feel of the rest of the diction. Otherwise you’ve done a good job of creating narrative distance between the ideas the child grows up with and the clearly adult voice the narrator now has.
February 16, 2015 — 8:38 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
Ah, I see what you mean. “Nothing” would fit a lot better. Thank you! XD
February 17, 2015 — 5:54 PM
angeliquejamail says:
You’re welcome! Glad I could help.
February 17, 2015 — 6:49 PM
tedra says:
I agree with angeliquejamail, naught did things wrong for me as well. But good voice and I did get curious about your piece.
February 17, 2015 — 6:57 AM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
Thanks! I think I’ll change it to “nothing” instead of “naught.”
February 17, 2015 — 5:55 PM
ChelseaIRL says:
I disagree with the others about the use of “naught.” It didn’t throw me, but if it’s not something the character would say, then you should change it. What threw me was “social event.” It seems formal. Again, if this is how the character speaks, leave it be. Otherwise maybe just say party or get-together?
Otherwise, I like it. I want to know when this character finally sees a Celanesian and how his/her opinion is changed- or not.
February 17, 2015 — 2:14 PM
Sabrina Jade Howard (cronasonlyfriend) says:
I think I’ll definitely change “social event” to “get-together.” It sounds a lot less formal, but still in the voice of the character. Thank you! 😀
February 17, 2015 — 5:58 PM
ElctrcRngr says:
I have to love a writer with the courage to discuss how racism insidiously creeps into our lives at such an early age. And you do it without trying to excuse or justify it. No one grows up and just decides one day to be a bigot. I’m thinking your sentence structure in the second sentence could be a little confusing to some, but that is easily reworked. Hope this helps, and BRAVO!
February 18, 2015 — 6:45 PM
Sabrina Howard says:
Wow, thank you so much! ^_^ I started writing this with prejudice as a whole in mind. Racism certainly fits into that definition.
As for the second sentence, I see what you mean. I think it’s the first part of the sentence that is a little confusing. I’m thinking that it’s a bit verbose for a dependent clause. I’ll have to chop it down slightly. Thanks!
February 19, 2015 — 2:04 AM
ryanjamesblack says:
I just found out my short story ‘A Clone for Joan’ was rejected from an online Sci Fi magazine, after making it through a couple ‘slushies’. The editor told me she enjoyed the story, however she felt the ending was too abrupt, and that was the main reason it was declined for publishing. I am curious to see if others might feel the same way. It’s roughly a thousand words, so I’ll post a link to my blog. I’d be happy to return the favor should anyone have the time to take a look at it and provide constructive feedback. Thanks Terribleminders!
https://ryanjamesblack.wordpress.com/2015/01/10/a-clone-for-joan/
February 16, 2015 — 2:34 PM
Cassandra says:
Oh my gosh, I LOVED reading that! Yes, I can agree that it is a tad bit abrupt, but it did wrap everything up, and the bit where some clones were eaten made it a bit less abrupt. Maybe add in a couple sentences of more specifics of what her teasers would say? Or just a few more sentences in general, though of what I’m not sure. Some more quirky goodness. I think it just needs to be bulked up a bit because you already know that the end of the story is coming. I didn’t want it to end so quickly because I was enjoying reading it.
If you have the time, I have a little flash piece I’m about to send out that could use another set of eyes: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rt1W_ulpd3u8PzUc2XFdMM1LOCt7rNCwKVg26LUj8co/edit?usp=sharing
February 16, 2015 — 2:49 PM
52lettersinthealphabet says:
This is the opening to my current WIP, a YA paranormal-esque novel called Devil May Care.
“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.”
The darkness makes the church seem unendingly large, the kind of infinity that makes me claustrophobic. Hard wood digs the clasp my itchiest bra into my spine, and I’m about as far from feeling humbly pious as you can get.
“And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.”
There is the scratch and hiss of a match being struck. The flame struggles against the silent air, flickering once, twice, before catching on the wick of the candle. The light blossoms outward, casting the man’s face aglow and illuminating the altar between him and his congregation. An ornate Bible lies open before him to read from, as if he hasn’t given this speech a hundred times before, as if there is anyone in this church who couldn’t recite this sermon along with him.
I call this sermon “Why You’re Fucked, or On the History of Prejudice.” I think he calls it “Understanding Your Place in the World.”
February 16, 2015 — 2:42 PM
Regina says:
I love this. In only a few sentences I feel like I know the pov character, instantly sympathize with her (I would be about as happy sitting on a pew listening to that). I also like the idea of the theatrics going on, it makes me wonder if it’s just a really dramatic priest/pastor or if it’s a cult or what.
February 16, 2015 — 3:17 PM
52lettersinthealphabet says:
Thank you so much 🙂
February 16, 2015 — 4:34 PM
tedra says:
You had me at the title and that’s where I stayed. I didn’t feel anything threatening. I didn’t get her anxiety. I think this was supposed to be a tense moment but it just came off as a list of things. Maybe, talk about what the other people are doing by sound or the sights she sees in the dark(they are in the dark right?). Maybe have her focus on a shadow then he lights the match, when she turns back the shadow is a picture of Jesus or Mary, something she knows has always been there.
The voice is almost there. I have her picture in my head by her itchy bra…lol. Your story should be interesting. I’m down for all things angel and demons.
February 17, 2015 — 7:06 AM
S. Kay Nash (@Gnashchick) says:
I like the uncertainty of the character’s position. Is she there because she wants to be? It’s clear she’s heard the sermon before. I also find it telling that the position man with the bible is ambiguous. He’s “the man” not “the priest” or “the pastor” Makes me wonder what’s going on. It has a few nice hooks: Why are you fucked? Who is prejudiced? And if the people the man is giving his speech (not a sermon?) to are both fucked and the victims of prejudice, what’s their story?
You dropped a word: “Hard wood digs the clasp _of_ my itchiest bra into my spine.”
February 17, 2015 — 11:56 AM
jadefalcon14 says:
<3 for dialog. This is taken from a team-building exercise gone horribly wrong in my Nano novel.
“Ben, you have a question for Kira now?”
“You're gunna make me?” Ben asked, making a sour expression. I nodded. “Fine. So Kira, it's pretty obvious you think I'm a useless piece of shit not fit to do more than swab a deck. In fact, you said this was a pretty normal view of men in general.” He paused and pointed at Senawar. “So do you think she's more valuable a person than me or Micheal?” Despite his low upbringing, Ben question was astute and somewhat disturbing.
Kira crossed her arms and shifted uncomfortably.
“Rules say you gotta answer honestly,” Ben said after some awkward silence.
“It's complicated…”
“It's not though! Yes or no?
“She's always treated me fairly,” I added.
“Yeah because you're a good little boy that follows directions. Probably a prized trait among her people,” Ben retorted. “Yes or no?”
Kira grew more agitated, her cheeks getting a little violet in what I assumed was her version of a blush.
“Benjamin,” Senawar said, “I think you do the same but to us.” She pointed to herself and Kira. “You do not treat us well in same way but here you argue against…” She looked towards me, “the word?”
“The word she's looking for is hypocrite,” I said. “You are acting like a hypocrite. You say Kira doesn't treat you fairly because you're a man, but you don't exactly treat the ladies here as peers either.”
Benjamin glared at me, and then turned back to Kira. “Answer my question!”
“Yes, and your actions prove why you are lesser. Driven by the emotion of anger and a constant need to show dominance over others. Unrightfully arrogant and lacking grace.”
“So you come to this land and just expect us men to just roll over?! Take a look around – everything is lead by men. Our kings, our priests, our warriors are men. Our God is a man! It even says so in the Holy Book that women here to serve us men – it's their God-given duty.” Ben was practically foaming at the mouth at this point.
“It is true?” Senawar asked in an aside to me while Benjamin was ranting. I was a bit embarrassed to answer.
“Some of the scripture could be interpreted that way, yes,” I whispered.
February 16, 2015 — 2:56 PM
myzania3350 says:
Ooh, I really like this. It grabs you, cos at first you kinda wonder, ooh, is this Kira a bit of a what? And then it moves on and you start realising, oh, it’s some form of cultural clash thing – hang on, alien culture clash vs. human/ other alien? Interesting! – and then finally there’s the kicker: the patriachy; and embarrassed person at the end explaining.
The criticism I have is how things are structured slightly regarding the dialogue. It took me a reread to figure out that Ben is the one who says the question “So do you think ‘she’ is more valuable…?”. Of course, that could just be me, and the fact that Senawar is a bit genderless (yay for diversity).
I’d be interested to see where this ends, and what the universe of this story is about.
February 16, 2015 — 10:38 PM
jadefalcon14 says:
Thank you for the comments! The copy/paste ate my formatting ._. , but I totally see what you saw and that is confusing.
This lovely group are a bunch of different ethnicities/races from different nations that have been tossed together and made to try to work as a team. I thought there was a lot of interesting conflict to be had with the setup.
Early in the book, Senawar was kinda flailing and being a lame, reactive character, and that probably comes across in this exchange (though in the following bit, she gives both Kira and Ben a bit of a verbal slapping). Her character is definitely something I need to go back and tighten up on.
February 17, 2015 — 1:41 PM
ElctrcRngr says:
You’ve done a good job of making the discomfort of everyone in the room palpable. I’m shifting my eyes and wriggling in my seat just writing about it. Normally I would find the flow of your sentences a bit jarring, but here it adds to the tension in a very subliminal way. I think I like it….
February 18, 2015 — 7:33 PM
jadefalcon14 says:
Thanks!
February 28, 2015 — 5:35 PM
Jana says:
I’m torn about this piece. I like the idea and the emotion that is here. There’s tension and an obvious need for them to come to understanding. The problem is that in juggling four people’s conversation from a first person point of view I lose a lot of the sense of who the narrator is. Instead of a participant in the conversation he feels much more like an outside presence orchestrating the whole thing. Each reference to the narrator is a two word, I something. I nodded. I said. I whispered. etc, so we get little sense of emotion or action or thought from the narrator who is really our most important set of eyes and path into the story. What does he think about Ben being ragy? What does he think of the women? His is the only emotion we can have through anything but observation and we’re cut off from that so the whole thing is a bit flat if interesting. Hopefully that helps, or at least gives you some ideas.
February 20, 2015 — 12:57 PM
jadefalcon14 says:
It’s interesting that you say it’s like the MC is orchestrating the whole thing – because that’s pretty much exactly what he’s doing here. Background bit – these poor saps are spies in training and they just failed miserably at their first mission because they couldn’t work together. After being told to get their shit together by the leader, the MC decided to try and get them more acquainted with a game – some cheesy college freshman orientation game of ask everyone in your group one question. After going first himself, he’s been moderating the game for the others, but Ben doesn’t wanna play (which is basically what got them into trouble in the mission, Ben taking off on his own like the loose cannon he is).
February 28, 2015 — 5:58 PM
ryanjamesblack says:
Thanks! I appreciate the feedback. I just read yours and I really liked it. Very creepy, but in a good way. I’ll give you a couple of quick thoughts:
– After reading the name “Glaxomas”, and learning what they were haggling over, I imagined these people were not actually people at all. Aliens? Demons? Is that what you were going for? Or are they supposed to be simply human. I would say if they are intended to read as inhuman, maybe drop a few hints. At one point you refer to her father-in-law smiling….maybe you could describe something in his smile that adds an extra tinge of fear “pictured him smiling, licking his lip-less mouth with his flitting forked tongue” Or something like that
– if they are simply normal humans in some crazy cannibalistic future, and I’m just reading into it too much, well then disregard.
– Good dialogue, flowed well.
Good job and good luck!
Rjb
February 16, 2015 — 3:12 PM
ryanjamesblack says:
oops…this comment is for Cassandra…sorry
February 16, 2015 — 3:13 PM
Cassandra says:
Found! 🙂 Thank you so much for reading. Yes, they are intended to be alien creatures, so I’m glad that the name did what it was intended to do! I think the tongue thing would work really well as a hint as well, thank you!
February 16, 2015 — 4:27 PM
Regina says:
Amaranth is not meant for the dark woods or itsthe winding paths therein; not meant to care for an old woman no true relation to her; not meant to profane the pristine white snow with her muddy boots. And yet she does, because there is no one else this winter, and her mother says to. So she walks through twilight of the undergrowth, head held high and red hair spilling over her shabby, too-thin cloak. She goes unwillingly and yet without complaint, carries a basket with nourishing food despite the hungry eyes that glitter at her from beneath the tall, tall trees.
—-
A random paragraph from a short story I’m considering turning into a longer work.
I tend have a more “storyteller around the fire” style and I don’t know how well it really works. It’s just the way the first draft comes out (getting dialogue into my work is like pulling nails 🙁 )
February 16, 2015 — 3:13 PM
Lisa Shininger says:
I like the creepy old-woods vibe! It reminds me of Red Riding Hood right off the bat. Maybe try writing out that conversation where Mother tells her to? You could pull a few lines in to break up narrative if you like how it turns out. (I have a similar style and this was the suggestion from a beta that helped me, though I still struggle with it.)
February 16, 2015 — 7:10 PM
Kitten says:
I looked down at his grey-speckled hair. I put my hand on his head. I touched his hair. I ran my fingers through his hair. He talked.
When did I end up with his hand in mine? When did he take my hand and kiss it? When did he ask me if I wanted to kiss him? When did he put his forehead on mine and tell me he wanted to feel like someone cared about him? When did I put my hand on his face?
When he raised his chin up our lips touched ever so slightly, waiting for one of us to leap out of the grey area and into the safe, white light of the morality we claimed to share. Neither of us did. We kissed. Not passionately. Not freely. Gingerly, like thieves stealing a jewel from a case filled with laser beams, ever so careful not to set one off.
Then we stopped and looked at each other. It was late. We had a lot to drink. It was time for this little charade to end.
February 16, 2015 — 3:25 PM
Mercedes says:
Hi Kitten! You definitely have some spark going here. Do these two characters like each other? Reading this passage stirs questions for me, and that’s a great thing. I’m wondering if they know each other / work together / what’s their history….and why it’s suddenly a bad idea that they ARE together. My only suggestion would be to tweak that first sentence and inject a bit more action, or even skipping / replacing the first few lines and starting with “when did I end up with his hand in mine?”
Good luck!
Mercedes
February 16, 2015 — 8:47 PM
leedunning says:
Kitten, I love the surreal feel of this brief scene, and the simile about the thief stealing a jewel.
To add some oomph to it, I would use more dynamic verbs. For example ‘placed’ instead of ‘put’. Maybe ‘stroked’ instead of ‘touched’. Also, I’d combine the third and fourth sentences since they both pertain to his hair and the touching of it. Consider replacing ‘looked’ with things like gazed, stared, contemplated, regarded, etc.
And for the simile I’d tighten it up just a bit, maybe like: Gingerly, like a thieves stealing a jewel protected by laser beams, ever so careful not to set one off.
February 16, 2015 — 10:28 PM
Terri says:
From “Ride the Lightning,” the second book in the Juliana Martin mystery series. After the end of “Devil’s Deal,” circumstances find our heroine managing a strip club outside of Biloxi. One of her duties is hiring staff . . .
———————————–
She glided into the room on red stilettos. Her painted-on jeans and tank top hugged ample curves all the way up to a mass of blonde curls that Dolly Parton would kill for. The horizon of forty was clear in her face, but she owned it.
I took the out-stretched hand dripping with rings and jangly bracelets. Her grip was strong and sure. This was a woman who could wrangle trays of beer mugs and make it look easy.
“Sit down,” I glanced at her application, “Miss Hyatt.”
“Please, call me Maddie.” I’d been here long enough to start noticing the difference in accents. She wasn’t local.
I pushed her application, heavy with experience behind the counter in diners aside. I’d discovered that the same radar that used to tell me when a client or witness was lying helped me spot closet speed freaks and hustlers. Maddie’s wide blue eyes met my gaze without flinching. I saw humor and intelligence there instead of the “Free Parking” sign I saw in so many.
February 16, 2015 — 4:44 PM
donnaeve says:
Alright, alright, alright. (invoking my Matthew McConaughey here. 🙂 So much to love about this Terri. “mass of blonde curls that Dolly Parton would kill for.” (got it, pictured right here in my noggin)
Hand dripping with rings, jangly bracelets…etc. etc.
Such a short entry, but I got Maddie in my head perfectly. Nice.
February 16, 2015 — 5:10 PM
Terri says:
Thank you! Our heroine Juliana is going to come to regret hiring Miss Maddie unfortunately. Turns out the bitch isn’t who she said she was. Imagine that . . .
February 16, 2015 — 5:17 PM
donnaeve says:
I can “see” it coming…, sounds like it’s gonna get good.
February 16, 2015 — 6:18 PM
Michael E. Henderson says:
All right
February 17, 2015 — 2:49 PM
donnaeve says:
So, do you think I didn’t know this?
February 17, 2015 — 6:31 PM
Michael E. Henderson says:
Good job. There are some punctuation issues that a line edit would cure. For some reason a lot of people have the same problem with dialogue tags, as in when to use a comma and when to use a period. Look into it.
Although I have to say I’ve never seen anyone glide in stilettos.
You might want to describe what the horizon of 40 looks like. It also struck me that the language was kinda tame for a woman running a strip joint.
Other than that, not bad. Some rough spots, but one of the few I had any interest in reading. Look at it in a few weeks and see what you think.
February 17, 2015 — 2:47 PM
ElctrcRngr says:
I’ve seen a woman glide in stilettos. And it’s hot
February 18, 2015 — 6:56 PM
deb lacativa says:
He looked quickly around the courtroom for Mrs. Barton but didn’t see her. He slipped into the seat next to Anna and saw that she was holding the pad he had been writing on. Jack had beautiful, elegant handwriting, the nuns had seen to that. The page was filled with names and words that were not sentences, but nonetheless related somehow. Now he knew how and why. It was like he was making a case for something. The last names on the page were Barbara, Dennis, Janet and Betsy. Jack took the pad from her hands and quietly tore the sheet free crumpling it into his pocket.
“Baby, I gotta tell you something…”
“All rise.” the bailiff called the room to order and the judge returned to her seat and looked at Dennis Barton a few seconds too long.
Jack picked up Anna’s hand and wove his fingers through hers. He brushed his lips against her neck and whispered “Trust me” in her ear, but before she could ask why, they both felt a great hollowing sensation, as if the air had been sucked out of the room. All other sounds were overlain with a howling, cold blooded hum that no one could hear or feel but the two of them, and maybe the source. Jack pulled Anna’s head to his shoulder, his free hand covering her exposed ear.
Barbara Barton came down the aisle beside Jack and stood right in front of where he had been sitting before the recess. She leaned over as if to engage her husband in conversation. Mort reached out in slow motion to prevent the contact. Anna turned to look into Jack’s face to see if he was feeling what she was, but he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her face to his chest as he watched the frayed, sad woman take a blunt handgun from her jacket pocket, reach across Mort and shoot her husband through the temple.
She turned smoothly, aiming from her hip with stone cold insouciance, shot the judge right between her wide blue eyes and then calmly fitted the gun up under her own jaw and sprayed most of the onlookers with her blood and brains. She was a tall woman and she went over like a Sequoia.
February 16, 2015 — 6:07 PM
tedra says:
Pretty darn good. I had to reread to remember who Mrs. Barton was but I think that was just me…lol I thought you were going to go supernatural. The twist is a nice one.
February 17, 2015 — 6:40 PM
deb lacativa says:
Thanks for the comment. There is a paranormal element to the story that’s not glaringly evident here. No one but Jack and Anna can hear the warning vibrations coming from the shooter.
February 17, 2015 — 7:30 PM
Nellie says:
This is the first 100 words or so of a short story that’s due Saturday the 21st. I’m having a hard time writing lately and have to grind out each word. I’d like to know what you think. Thanks.
The first time I entered our house I was five and delighted by the motes of dust suspended in the sunlight. I traced the wall paper with my hand, an anchient ivory embossed with gold designs. There were three bedrooms and one of them was for me alone. My brothers shared a room connected to mine by a door with a lock that used a skeleton key. Ma and Dad were still together then. They were already having problems and once we moved into our house they didn’t have a chance. What can I say about our house? That it housed us but also an almost tangible sense of malice?
February 16, 2015 — 6:08 PM
tedra says:
I liked that. I’m sorry it ended. Good job. Keep going
February 17, 2015 — 7:16 AM
Gon says:
“Ma and Dad…” should start a new a paragraph. For the sentence following, somehow I’m not seeing a good flow. The jump to a sinister tone is a bit sudden. You should add a sentence.
May I suggest: “They already had problems , but when we moved into a house, something changed. From that point on, their relationship had not stood a chance.”
February 17, 2015 — 6:01 PM
David says:
In the Southern Sea of Behemoth, near the isle of Eve’s End, rose the haunting melody of the Stormsinger. The tune rode upon the water’s crest until it reached a small boat that perched on the towering waves. The boat’s sail had long been struck, and a rope fastened to the mast curled around Kasper’s waist. For now, the braided strands only kept him from getting swallowed by the unruly sea. Soon, if all went according to plan, they would also keep him from drowning once he dove into the depths.
February 16, 2015 — 6:16 PM
tabeabd says:
I really like the descriptions, and it makes me curious to read more! The only thing that might be worth pointing out is that there’s not much variety in sentence length. Of course, it could just be in this particular excerpt I suppose.
February 16, 2015 — 10:15 PM
tedra says:
I liked this too. Nothing bad to say.
February 17, 2015 — 6:50 PM
Lisa Shininger says:
A wavering line of pale bladders marked the edges of the reef where Avila laid her nets. They would hold until morning. It was the crabs she had to worry about now: they were breaking through the gates faster than ever. Another two this morning, Odran said. And she had herself mended two others only the week before. Too many more and it wouldn’t be worth the effort. The wire was already dear. All of Buri’s little stash was gone, and only the hollow-faced stimrats in the metal city would have any left to trade.
February 16, 2015 — 6:51 PM
cameronwalker27 says:
I am so intrigued by this idea of invading crabs. I want to know more about what it means to the characters and more about the world they inhabit. I will say, however, that I got a little confused here:
**It was the crabs she had to worry about now: they were breaking through the gates faster than ever. Another two this morning, Odran said. **
I had to stop and wonder if you meant another two crabs had gotten in. Before I got to the next sentence I actually paused to think about the size of the crabs- I thought they must be huge if two breaking through was a problem!
I figured out you were talking about the gates, but it interrupted the flow of the story for me (if only a little bit). Maybe try something like, “It was the gates she had to worry about now. The crabs were breaking through them faster than ever. Another two were damaged this morning,” OR “It was the crabs she had to worry about now: they were breaking through faster than ever. They had damaged another two gates this morning, according to Odran, and she had mended two others the week before.”
I would love to see where this story goes- you’ve piqued my curiosity!
February 17, 2015 — 4:28 PM
Lisa Shininger says:
Thanks for this! The story got bogged down in this paragraph and I couldn’t see how until you said it was confusing. Very helpful!
February 22, 2015 — 4:55 PM
tambra nicole says:
Heretic Husband: I loved what you posted! The flow was just right to me. Distinct characters, dialogue that fits the genre. I could easily understand what is going on. I hope you let us know when its published, I’d love to have a copy. I’m not sure if my comments are any help but I thoroughly enjoyed your post.
February 16, 2015 — 7:21 PM
Valant says:
Piece from a short story I’m working the kinks out of. Not sure whether to keep the cursing or trash it. I’d love some feedback!
—
I woke to the sounds of feathers, squawks, and my own eye being gouged out with extreme prejudice.
“Wake up, bozo. The world ain’t gonna end itself.”
“AAAAAAUUGH! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK?! Pain seared through my skull in such a way that I’d never known, flaring through every nerve and back again. I tumbled out of the covers of my bed and fell with a dull thud onto the carpet.
“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be a baby. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
“What the fuck!” At a loss for words, I stayed hunched over on the floor, clutching the left side of my face and angrily repeating the same words over and over again. My other eye was shut tight in the throes of agony.
February 16, 2015 — 7:31 PM
Kitten says:
I love the cursing. But I fucking love to curse, especially when I write. The idea of being casually awakened by such a violent act has me intrigued. I want to know who the characters are, why such an act was committed and how they are going to bring the world to its end.
February 17, 2015 — 1:48 PM
writerprincess8 says:
this one’s so amazingly abrupt, I’m surprised I was able to follow it with a single reading. but I was, and it’s rather enjoyable. I’d love to keep reading.
February 17, 2015 — 6:00 PM
MrsBevyChurch says:
A familial blackness seeped into every vascular cell within her body. Slowly and achingly splintering what remained of her crippled soul. It created a molecular ripple that casscaded into her limbs, setting her arteries and organs ablaze with liquid fire. A wash of icy cold flame erupting from deep inside so frigid it burned along every inch of flesh it touched. Nyctophilia they called it. The all consuming embrace for things dark and dormant. An enveloping kiss of twilight that surrounds the afflicted person in a silky macabre euphoria.
February 16, 2015 — 7:34 PM
tedra says:
I can see her lying there! Maybe as scientist watch her reactions?? Either way, your piece has me guessing about what’s next and that the point right?? Good job.
February 17, 2015 — 7:21 AM
mattblackattack says:
Wow that’s very good. You can really feel the intensity of the sensations. If I had to give any criticism it’s that maybe there are a few too many adjective/adverbs, and it slows down the reading.
February 18, 2015 — 11:51 AM
ElctrcRngr says:
Wow, this is trippy! Familial, or familiar? With the references to vascular cells and organs, I thought maybe familial was being used in a genetic sense, but I’m not sure. I agree with Matt about the adjectives, but I liked the pace, actually I thought the intensity might be increased with a slightly slower pace. Not really sure, though, as we’ve all noted, it’s hard to judge from such a small sample. You definitely know how to paint a picture with words.
February 21, 2015 — 2:47 AM
Mercedes says:
Dr. Charles Campbell tightened the knot in his tie, knowing today was the biggest day of his career. Maybe even his life. He promised himself–no, swore to himself–that he wouldn’t let his infatuation get the best of him, that he would hold it together when he met her for the very first time, right there in his office….(skipping ahead a bit)
A knock sounded, interrupting his rambling thoughts.
Charles opened the door to his office.
And there she was.
“Ms. Monroe.” He stepped aside, held out his hand to welcome her in. “Please.”
Blurb: An L.A. psychiatrist is hired to treat the troublesome Marilyn Monroe in the summer of 1962, and though she’d not what he expected, nothing could’ve prepared him for the events that quickly unravel his life.
February 16, 2015 — 8:39 PM
maggiros says:
Straightforward, direct. His thoughts are bubbling but we can see he’s a professional. One small point, though. The address “Ms” did not exist in 1962. He’d have called her Miss Monroe. (Miz existed, sure, but that’s not the same thing.) Nice starat.
February 17, 2015 — 12:03 PM
Mercedes says:
Great catch! I didn’t realize Ms. hadn’t evolved yet. Such an important detail, too. I think as writers, it’s always a good idea to be mindful and careful with language. Thank you!!
February 17, 2015 — 5:13 PM
angeliquejamail says:
This is the first paragraph of a literary fantasy I’m currently still editing. I’m curious whether it sparks anyone’s interest from the get-go. Thanks for your feedback!
***
Dragonflies filled the crowded council chamber, hovering over the queen as she lay in state. Mellora didn’t know when they’d come in, but one by one they drifted down to perch upon her mother’s body, quivering back and forth before the hushed assembly. Their wings––blue, purple, green––echoed the burial gown’s jewel colors. A large butterfly flew in from one of the high windows into their midst; its dark purple wings, outlined in black and silver, flashed slowly back and forth as it sank down to circle the queen’s pale face, then alighted on her lips, stained red even in death. Its wings opened and closed for a moment, then it floated up into the air, the dragonflies winging up with it. They flew together high over the heads of the assembly and out the large windows, the only source of light in the stone hall.
February 16, 2015 — 8:44 PM
Aaron says:
This absolutely did spark my interest. A disclaimer, though: I’m a sucker for animals. The imagery of all the multicolored dragonflies is dazzling, and its strangeness suggests that whatever just happened is some weighty business. I’m curious about who Mellora is and how the queen died (or what she did in life that made her so important). I would hope you would dive into the details in the next few paragraphs. I would also hope you would continue the dazzling, strange mood throughout the story.
February 16, 2015 — 10:21 PM
angeliquejamail says:
Thank you! This is useful. As for the mood — glad you liked it, by the way — it permeates a lot of the chapters, some of which take place in a somewhat surreal (magical) landscape.
February 16, 2015 — 11:34 PM
angeliquejamail says:
BTW, Aaron, if it isn’t too much shameless self-promotion here, you might enjoy this novelette of mine that came out in August. Straight-up magic realism with plenty for those who like animals and strangeness. 🙂 http://www.amazon.com/Finis-Ang%C3%A9lique-Jamail-ebook/dp/B00MFQG0H4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424186273&sr=8-1&keywords=finis.+jamail
February 17, 2015 — 10:19 AM
Joe says:
I love how surreal and vivid this is. Would definitely read more.
February 17, 2015 — 12:51 PM
angeliquejamail says:
Thank you!
February 17, 2015 — 6:49 PM
ElctrcRngr says:
The imagery you create here with the dragonflies and butterfly is priceless. It’s so good I might even suggest more description, in an attempt to capture the mood in the hall more vividly. That might get a little wordy, but this paragraph is worth it, it’s really good.
February 20, 2015 — 5:33 AM
angeliquejamail says:
Thank you so much! 🙂 I’m always worried by the insistence that there must be some sort of explosion or something on the first page, when my writing style is very firmly rooted in literary fiction traditions because of where I got my degree.
February 20, 2015 — 10:28 AM
ElctrcRngr says:
One of the strongest hooks in an opening sentence I’ve ever read is in John Varley’s “Steel Beach” . “In five years, the penis will be obsolete”. Got my attention, with no explosions or gunfire at all. And you got my attention with dragonflies that seem sentient, or at least highly intuitive.
February 21, 2015 — 3:18 AM
angeliquejamail says:
Excellent example. The opening sentence of Coetzee’s DISGRACE is similarly excellent, though at the moment I’m in the process of moving houses and all my books are packed up, so I can’t quote it. Ah well. Back to packing!
February 21, 2015 — 1:11 PM
Joe says:
Laurel remembered two things very clearly about the day she first realized Thomas Wilde would always be a part of her life. One was when they had played Cowboys in the corn field behind her house, and the way Tom had beamed at the Wanted Poster she had colored for him. She had scrawled in tight, bold letters the name Vicious Thomas Wilde, and below that Wanted Dead or Alive. The second thing was when the rattler had attacked them, and the way Tom had saved her, smashing the rattler flat into nothing but gory red filth with his toy pistol, even after the creature had bitten him twice. If you asked her to recall that the snake had actually been slithering away when Tom set upon it, she wouldn’t deny it, but she otherwise wouldn’t bring it up.
February 16, 2015 — 8:57 PM
angeliquejamail says:
I really love how direct and vivid this is. It’s economically written, but I also feel like I have a good grasp of these characters (as children), why their friendship is important, and a little bit of how Laurel respects him later in life.
February 17, 2015 — 10:22 AM
Joe says:
Thank you very much for the response!
February 17, 2015 — 12:14 PM
angeliquejamail says:
You’re welcome! 🙂
February 17, 2015 — 6:49 PM
tabeabd says:
This is from a horror I’m (very slowly) working on. Thanks for any feedback 🙂
—
Why the hell did they separate again? One would think they’d have learned the first time, but no, no, Gabriel remained downstairs and here Ciprian was, following a sound in the upstairs hall. There had been someone. He heard it. A chill found its way down his spine and a twitch in his fingers as he once again heard a muffled scream clearly come from his right. It was the same as before, he swore it. Nevertheless, he ran, pushing open one of the multitude of doors, stumbling inside. A small cloud of dust unsettled at his hands and knees, his body momentarily convulsing at the sound of the loud slam behind him. Azurite eyes shut tightly, crinkles forming between his brows. With a sigh, his forehead touched the wooden floor, where he stayed silent for what seemed to him hours.
February 16, 2015 — 10:10 PM
Aaron says:
Here’s a random snippet of dialog from my Middle Grade fantasy novel. It’s a conversation between an eleven-year-old girl named Clover and a magpie (a bird) named Zeke.
* * *
“Don’t act so pitiful,” said Zeke. “I know a guy who knows a guy who may know how to find it.”
“A spy of yours?”
“Not a spy. A friend. Despite what you may think, I do have friends here and there. I think we could be friends. I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
She grinned. “If you can get me out of here, we can have sleepovers and do each others’ hair and you name it.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m starting to feel good about this. I’m getting goosebumps thinking about it.”
Clover lowered her voice. “If you get caught, they’ll roast you.”
“They’d roast me a hundred times already if they could. I’m wanted in the four corners of the forest. But tomorrow is a special day, thanks to you, my dear Clover. Tomorrow is a great celebration at the Millennium Tree, and hundreds of birds will be here, two of every kind. No one will notice if some unsavory character slips in the back. Not that I’m an unsavory character. Ah, who am I kidding? I am. Guilty as charged. Anyway, I’m going to duck out for a bit. I’ll see you again soon.”
February 16, 2015 — 10:39 PM
genihuot says:
It is so hard to offer crit with so little but I like where this is going. Definitely hooked me into the story and am eager to see where it leads.
How is Clover able to communicate with Zeke? Is this a common talent? What is she searching for? And of course a magpie would know where to find things – I truly love the idea of a magpie leading a spy network.
February 17, 2015 — 10:44 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
I’m a sucker for middle grade fantasy, but this felt good to me right away. I want to know more about Clover. I like her sassy voice. Love it.
February 18, 2015 — 6:28 AM
Aaron says:
Thanks!
February 20, 2015 — 3:10 PM
myzania3350 says:
Well, here’s the first words of chapter one of my current WIP. It’s the first draft of a rebooted version of an old story. What do you think of my character? It was so hard to limit myself to ~100 words. I wanted to show off the first three paragraphs instead of just the one!
// 15th Day of Fifthmonth, Year 130 since the Signature of the Foundation Agreement (SFA). In the city of –, the country of –, on the planet Terra. //
Queen Danielle Orbia surveyed the many reports in front of her on her desktop monitor, and wished that she might be permitted to physically sigh. Loudly. However, she was Queen, and though she was seemingly alone in the office, it just wasn’t proper for the Monarch to show such irritation over a few necessary reports. Even if they appeared to be so numerous and detailed as to threaten to take up the entire morning.
February 16, 2015 — 10:50 PM
M T McGuire says:
I liked this. It made me chuckle and the stuff about etiquette shows us so much about Danielle’s character without you having to mention it.
Cheers
MTM
February 17, 2015 — 11:17 AM
Josh says:
I like the sighing comment. Like MT said, shows a lot about her. I can see her trying not to do it. 😀
If I had to change something, I would look at the last sentence. I might re-arrange it and attach it to the previous sentence, such as “…over a few reports that, though necessary, were numerous, detailed, and threatened to take up the entire morning.” Something like that.
Keep up the great work!
February 17, 2015 — 9:48 PM
rojosama says:
“Who are you to come into my House?!” She shouts. Her eyes widen when I remove my cowl.
“A male? Impossible,” she gasps. I see her lips moving and know she is casting a spell. I feel the magical waves slam into me as she tries to command me. I take a single step toward her, then another. With each step the smile on my face widens, as do her eyes.
“How can yo . . ,” she tries to ask but my sword thrust into her heart interrupts. I hold the blade there for a moment, feeling the throbbing of the hunger within the blade beating in time with her heart.
“Feed,” I say softly. At my command, I feel the waves of power being drawn from the Matron’s body, through the blade, and into my own. I kneel down in front of her, leaning toward her as if to kiss her.
“Feel the power and know that Selvetarm has returned,” I whisper in her ear.
(Full Story, such as it is – https://rojosama.wordpress.com/2015/02/17/reborn/ )
February 16, 2015 — 11:31 PM
tedra says:
Oooh!
February 17, 2015 — 6:59 PM
kakubjaya says:
“Morgan, look at me. Then look at yourself again. I’m older. Don’t bother flattering me, I am and I don’t mind it. Well I don’t mind it most mornings anyway. But you aren’t. How much of the last ten years have you spent in the Sleep, in the long dark between stars?”
“I… I don’t know. A fair bit, I guess.”
“Let’s try it another way. How many years subjective has it been for you, huh? Two, maybe three?”
“I suppose. Yeah, about like three.”
“That’s two-thirds of the last decade you just slept through, Morgan. Well I’ve lived every minute of the last ten years. And lived them hard. The war’s not going well, and we’re down to drafting kids who hadn’t been born when the first shots were fired. I’ve commanded them myself, children young enough to be my own, for two tours in the Crescent Systems. That’s why I’ve been jumped from platform skipper straight to Planetary, because there’s nobody else with any experience left.”
Morgan opened his mouth again but this time no easy answer came rolling out, so he shut it and let her go on.
“So you see why my problem isn’t that you’ve changed, but that you haven’t. And the rest of the universe has. I have. That’s what makes you one of them. A spacer. You share their time.”
February 17, 2015 — 2:18 AM
M T McGuire says:
I like this. As a premise for a novel, it’s brilliant, the difference between the spacer and the rest. I’m all agog to know what’s going on with the war and all the rest of it. Just thought I’d say.
Cheers
MTM
February 17, 2015 — 6:07 PM
kakubjaya says:
Don’t I know it. I’m actually pretty proud of the idea myself. The problem, as always, is in the execution…
February 17, 2015 — 10:45 PM
M T McGuire says:
I hear you. Good luck with it anyway. If it’s world building that’s causing trouble It might be worth easing yourself in with some short stories to get a feel for the place. That sometimes helps me, anyway.
Cheers
MTM
February 18, 2015 — 2:54 AM
tambra nicole says:
This is from my contemporary romance, One Hot Cowboy. *denotes italics.
“Mama has gone too far this time!” Laurel tried kept her voice low. A scream of frustration crawled up her throat with manicured nails. Thank God this was her last day at work. What in the hell was she going to do? She was on her way back home. How was she going to show her face in town? “Are you sure the front page of the Bug Tussle Bugle said Thayne and I are engaged?” *Mama has got to be the biggest drama queen in the universe. But this is unforgivable!*
Thanks!
February 17, 2015 — 2:51 AM
tedra says:
The shadows are moving from row to row, stopping just a little to examine certain people. Everytime they move across someone, that person will look up to see something as if someone had caught their attention. I get warm as I watch them. They speed in their search as if they could feel what they wanted is pulsing in the next room.
February 17, 2015 — 6:33 AM
M T McGuire says:
Reading everyone else’s stuff, I’m not sure I should do this because mine isn’t quite in the same league. However, here is the first bit of my current W.I.P. I haven’t decided what to call it yet but it’s the usual deal, aliens are real, Earth is in peril and only our hero can save it…
————————————————————————–
I dropped my tray. It crashed onto the canteen floor in a tsunami of overheated baked beans and orange juice, I retained a vivid mental picture of one of my Cumberland sausages skidding under the drinks machine and then blackness. I’d never fainted before so when I came round I wasn’t sure where reality stopped and my head began. People were gathered round me asking me what was wrong and fanning me with empty crisp packets. I have a dim recollection of cheese and onion fumes and not being able to speak but then I was in shock.
“Did I imagine that?”
I looked up at Eric, my best friend, my only friend, so far, at uni.
“Yes. Of course I did,” I answered myself.
For a moment I’d thought something unbelievably scary had happened. I thought Eric had metamorphosed into a giant lobster with 7 eyes, 3ft pincers and antennae. However, if he had, he’d gone back to looking like Eric now, and anyway, I seemed to be the only person who had noticed. I was helped to my feet, helped to another portion of all day breakfast by the kindly lady behind the counter and sat at a table in the corner. A circle of concerned strangers – and Eric – surrounded me enquiring after my health. After a spell with my head between my knees I began to recover and I was soon able to sit up and mumble excuses about the time of the month.
————————————————————————-
Enjoy the annihilation process. I’ll try to. 😉
Cheers
MTM
February 17, 2015 — 11:14 AM
S. Kay Nash (@Gnashchick) says:
Giant Lobsters! That’s delightfully weird.
On a purely mechanical side. “I’d never fainted before…” and, “…but I was in shock.” are telling the reader what happened instead of letting us ride along with the character. People who are in shock don’t know it. here’s a suggestion: “I woke up on the floor, blinking at the people standing around, fanning me with empty crisp packets. Did I faint?”
The line, “Did I imagine that?” made me wonder if the character imagined her breakfast falling off her tray. I think you mean, ‘Did I imagine my friend turning into a giant lobster?” If so, move the vision of the lobster into her groggy, post-fainting mind, just as she’s getting up. Then have her question her sanity, then have her rationalize it later.
February 17, 2015 — 12:09 PM
M T McGuire says:
Thanks. Excellent points. I’ll have a look at that and work them in.
Cheers
MTM
February 17, 2015 — 12:46 PM
A Citizen of the World says:
Oooooh! I really want to know what happened to the protagonist and Eric the Giant Lobster/Alien!
I agree with Kay Nash – drop the “I’d never fainted before so” bit. Otherwise, it’s a vivid scene shot through with just the right dash of humour 🙂
February 17, 2015 — 9:33 PM
M T McGuire says:
Thanks. The book should be out later this year and I’ve now rewritten the dodgy fainting bit. 🙂
Cheers
MTM
February 18, 2015 — 2:49 AM
Luis R. Krenke says:
English is not my first language, so I’m sorry by any mistakes. This is a part of my WIP – initially called “Viral”.
“And then there were seven. Everybody was there, in the middle of the clearing, trying to warm up after the summer storm. Nobody knew each other very well before this, and yet all of them helped to build a fire using sticks and dry leaves. Well, not all of them. I was there too, away from the group, singing “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong in my head. They are probably hating me for not helping with the fire, but it will be of any use? It will only serve for that things that are trying to kill us get an roasted dinner instead of raw food.
Speaking of the things, nobody can define what they are. They look like zombies, but a few are not dead; they are very fast, despite some of them lacking the physical fitness for that; and they really like meat, since I saw Jenny from high school eating her friend’s arm and I am 100% certain that she was a vegetarian.”
February 17, 2015 — 12:33 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
There are a few things that I have questions about: why is your narrator singing What A Wonderful World? Is the character quirky or is it a sarcastic nod to the futility of the the group making a fire? The last sentence in the first paragraph needs some clarification- “It will only serve for that the things that are trying to kill us…” is a little clunky.
That being said, I really loved the last line about the vegetarian eating her friend’s arm. Does the rest of your story have that same kind of wry tone? I’d love to read a “zombie” (I know you said they aren’t zombies) story taken slightly less seriously. Good work!
February 18, 2015 — 6:36 AM
Luis R. Krenke says:
Thanks for the reply! Maybe something was lost in translation, maybe that’s why it looks a little clunky. And yes, that narrator is a bit sarcastic, witty and negative. The story will be told in different POVs, but most of them are in this wry tone.
Again, thanks for the tips!
February 18, 2015 — 7:23 AM
cameronwalker27 says:
Jeanne pressed close to the wall by the door, gripping the worn stones to keep upright. From her position, she could see only a corner of the ward. There, in the wavering light of the lamps on their hooks, the corpse that had been her patient struggled under its stained sheet. As it rose, she fled. Panicked, she ran down the hall after the others, leaving a roomful of helpless women to the horror of the risen dead.
February 17, 2015 — 4:09 PM
Bob Lock says:
Hi Cameron. This reminds me of a ‘Walking Dead’ kind of scenario, not bad company to be in. I know it’s hard to get a flavour of a story from merely a paragraph and therefore I’m having to guess that this is set in a hospital ward even though the description (worn stones, lamps on hooks) leads me to imagine something more medieval. Couldn’t see any problems with what you’ve written, Good luck with it 🙂
Bob
February 17, 2015 — 7:40 PM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
Yeesh! Not something you want to encounter at work! Okay, so a few notes: “From her position” is unnecessary — she wouldn’t be looking from anyone else’s position, right? Same with “Panicked.” That word is telling, rather than showing, her fear. One more thing that stopped me: “horror of the risen dead.” I’m not sure about “horror” here. It may be me, but I was snagged by that word. Otherwise, I really like the sense of motion and tension in this!
February 18, 2015 — 2:09 AM
Gon says:
This is my story. I put only the initial of the unique names in my book. So in other words, Michael would be written as M****. This is just because I am not sure on what I want the names to be, so hence just the initial letter. PS. This begins rather abruptly, but I didn’t want to make it too long. Hopefully the gist will be understood.
“Boy, look around you. You might not be much of an army, but do you seriously believe that we hold a disadvantage to anyone other than those damned C******? We are strong, always. And Corporal – I address you as such, and so shall you address me by my title.
“Sorry, Field Marshall D****, sir.”
“Corporal N*******, just as you have been promoted, as have I. I am Lord D******, and no other. Spread the word if you must, and always honor K***’s memory, but make no mistake: it is I who lead, my word is law. Let there be no questions forcing said behind my back. Don’t ever disrespect like that again.”
D****** turned, his cloak flapping. He paused, and then said,
“Oh, and about the rations…”
N***** tilted his head quizzically. D****** didn’t turn, and though N****** didn’t see it, D******’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth curved into a grim smile.
“Sometimes, we have to sacrifice a part of ourselves to survive,” he said.
N****’s mouth opened slightly at that, and he didn’t even realize that he had stopped walking until A**** bumped into him from behind.
“What’d D**** want?” he asked.
“Lord D*****,” was the only thing that Thomas could utter.
February 17, 2015 — 4:31 PM
Bob Lock says:
Hi Gon 🙂
Just a couple of things I found a little clunky:
Let there be no questions forcing said behind my back. Don’t ever disrespect like that again.
(This is quite awkward = forcing said behind my back? I don’t understand what is meant by that)
(Don’t ever disrespect like that again. = I think this sentence needs an object. i.e. Don’t ever disrespect ME like that again.)
Hope I’ve been of help, good luck with the story.
Bob
February 18, 2015 — 7:01 AM
Gon says:
Thanks so much. As the author, it’s hard for me to catch mistakes because I know what I want to say and my eyes just glosss over them.
February 18, 2015 — 10:06 AM
Bob Lock says:
No worries, I do exactly the same 🙂
February 18, 2015 — 10:14 AM
Gon says:
Typo in the last line, Thomas is meant to be N*****
February 19, 2015 — 11:16 PM
writerprincess8 says:
A paragraph from the first chapter of the second draft. It’s an urban fantasy with a mage who happens to be transgender. I just started this today and found it kind of run away on me during my lunch break. On the down side, it took on a bit of a life of it’s own, the plus side is I did 1200 words in 45 minutes. Anyways, here goes:
I looked at the coil in my hand, looked at the amulet sitting on the table. Her words echoed in my head, over and over again, incessant in their nagging that I had to choose, had to be one or the other. I couldn’t just be a man who liked to wear dresses, no not at all. I had to be a man or a woman, there was no middle ground. I felt the anger well up inside of me until I snatched up the small hammer from the table and brought the blunt end down as hard as I could on the amulet. There was a spectacular cracking noise as the things shattered, releasing the energy I’d caressed into the thing. Shards of the amulet scattered around the entire room, most bouncing harmlessly off the walls while one or two hit the glass of the big picture window at the front of the store with enough force I was surprised it didn’t break.
February 17, 2015 — 6:03 PM
Bob Lock says:
Chapter 1
Planet Seventy-Seven (Iridium)
Day 43 after touchdown
Valery Bure moved the blood-soaked rifle and sat back on his haunches. He watched through narrowed eyes as the pale glow of dawn turned the distant purple hills into gold-lined silhouette. The huge boulder he was crouched down by felt safe but he knew it would only afford him scant minutes of protection from the rising sun and then he would have to fly west, away from the burning orb, before it consumed him too. It wouldn’t take long. Asya, his sister, would be returned to the dust long before the sun’s rays reached him. He ached to go and free her from the bonds which held her staked her out on the empty plain but he knew they would be waiting for him and his suit was no longer viable.
This is the opening paragraph of a SF/Horror novel I’ve almost finished. Basically it’s Vampires In Space 🙂
However, the twist is, the vampires are good guys, the colonizing humans, the bad guys.
February 17, 2015 — 7:31 PM
Josh says:
A nice bold start. I like the color and visual imagery, though I’m not a fan of the word “huge” for the boulder. Still, the scene sets a good picture in my mind. I would prefer a break in the sentence “”the huge boulder”, somewhere after “rising sun.” A new sentence then with “He would have to fly west…” I think the broken up sentence there would help mirror the pace you’re setting. Also, “He ached to go…” sentence needs some revision. I got lost around the “staked her out” part. It feels like there’s something missing, or an intruding sentence there or something.
Keep up the great work!
February 17, 2015 — 9:39 PM
Bob Lock says:
Hey Josh 🙂
Thanks!
Yes there is an extra ‘her’ in the staked out part which I missed and confuses.
He ached to go had to do with him being unable to go out into the rising sun’s rays. He is torn between saving his sister and staying alive.
Kind regards
Bob
February 18, 2015 — 7:05 AM
Gon says:
There is, in the first sentence, a heavy usage of adjectives before almost every noun. I’m not sure if that is a bad thing. But, there are several confusing sentences. Saying the boulder “felt safe” is a little weird. Also, the phrase “would be returned to the dust” makes no sense. As does the phrase “which held her staked her.” You don’t use enough commas, especially in the last sentence. Finally, don’t call the sun a burning orb just because you said sun before. Figure out some other way to state that, or just call it the sun again. (PS. Please review my snippet)
Sorry if this feels overly-critical.
February 17, 2015 — 10:13 PM
Bob Lock says:
Thanks Gon 🙂 I realise it’s hard for you to get a feel for the story within such a limited amount. There are obviously reasons for things like the boulder being safe, the sun being a burning orb that are explained later on
*spoiler* Valery and his sisters are vampires. The boulder offers temporary shade. The sun is a pulsar (the reason the indigenous inhabitants are vampires) Being in its glare turns the natives ‘back to dust’. I’ll try find yours and give it a critique 🙂
Kind regards,
Bob
February 18, 2015 — 6:55 AM
Claire says:
I just need to say I am so grateful to have an opportunity to share this and even more grateful to find a community of word-nerds.
“Anna looked over at the unconscious man slumped in her passenger seat again. What was I thinking? What was I thinking. He hadn’t made a sound since Anna dragged him into the car and drove off towards the west coast. Not a grunt, grumble, moan. He didn’t even say “I’m sorry, Anna.” His favorite phrase.
She focused back on the road and lit another cigarette. Funny, she didn’t smoke a day in her life but one tragedy after another surely can push someone over the edge. She inhaled deeply and relished the burning sensation inside. I feel alive.”
February 17, 2015 — 7:51 PM
Zdroik says:
Claire! I like the idea of it. Some of my thoughts…
Not sure the reiteration of ‘What was I thinking’ is needed twice. The second one without a question mark (not sure if that was on purpose). In the 2nd paragraph, I wouldn’t switch from ‘she’ to a generalized ‘someone’ in the same sentence if that makes sense. Like… “she didn’t smoke a day in her life, but one tragedy after another pushed her to the edge…” something like that. And the ending with ‘I feel alive’ you changed the point of view, unless I missed something.
Sounds like something I would read though! Keep it up.
February 18, 2015 — 6:08 PM
Claire says:
Thanks so much for your feedback. I’ve been looking forward to hearing someone’s opinion all day :). I appreciate your time!
February 18, 2015 — 8:15 PM
D.C. Perry says:
Seven o’clock, the bloodied watch said. He had been lying there for four hours, if that was true. Four hours lying completely comatose, as if dead, while jagged rocks and spent brass pressed into his side; while the sun rose above the flat eastern horizon, and as the carnage of war raged around and above him. The man in front of him was most certainly dead; dead as a black cavern far beneath the earth.
February 17, 2015 — 8:39 PM
Zdroik says:
I like the tone to it. Maybe too many uses of the word ‘dead.’ Like in the first part, wouldn’t ‘completely comatose’ and ‘as if dead’ mean the same thing? Also, for the dark tone it has, maybe shorter sentences. The second one kind of drags on. Only my personal thoughts, great description though.
February 18, 2015 — 5:58 PM
Cheryl M. says:
Okay, here’s my very rough wip paragraph (ya fantasy). I’ll critique the next paragraph posted below mine asap.
“I’ll live, Ivo,” she closed her eyes but straightened her thin shoulders. “I promise.”
“We need to get to the outpost. We can better plan the next step once we get shelter and supplies.” Ivo said. He turned away from the stubborn Mage, forcing the twinge of fear deeper into the hollow part of his chest. He retrieved Jaeger’s helm and held it out to him.
“The horses are gone,” Emaranthe said. She turned away, the hot wind dragging her loose hair over her face. She studied the rest of the boiling pools of water but no more creatures were in sight. “Like Ivo said we need to move on. We’ll have to walk.”
February 17, 2015 — 9:21 PM
genihuot says:
First, this makes me ask lots of questions. All good questions I’m sure you want readers to ask. I feel a little lost in this particular scene since there is not much to go on aside from dialogue.
I am suspecting an injury has befallen the Mage; one that may be more serious than she wishes to let on. I am curious as to how this happened – an attack? An accident?
I like the description of “forcing the twinge of fear deeper into the hollow part of his chest”. This character seems he can keep a level head in a dire situation.
It is curious that they all appear to be turning away from one another – coincidence or something more?
February 17, 2015 — 11:03 PM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
This is pretty clean, so I don’t have a lot of criticism to offer. You need a comma after “supplies.” And I got stuck wondering what the “hollow part” of his chest is. I really liked the detail about Emaranthe’s hair in the hot wind right before mentioning the boiling pools. Great scene building and tension in this!
February 18, 2015 — 2:00 AM
Josh says:
My eyes were wide and alert. Looking around me, I realized I was alone, and stood up. The world was clear to me, but a hunger consumed nearly all my thoughts so it was hard to think straight. I realized that I was out in the woods past a village. I could smell the city to the east of me and a small dirt road was only one hundred feet away from where I awoke. Why could I smell the city?
My toes itched. They needed to run, move, do anything to get some food in my stomach.
But it wasn’t just my toes. My fingers itched, and my skin all over. I looked down to see myself covered in leeches, beetles, and some kind of lice. I flicked off the beetles, crushed the lice, and pulled off the leeches, savoring the look of my dark blood as it ran from the wounds. I stared at it, and my hunger swelled.
Remember: Bitten. The fear. Running. Hunger.
**This is part of the first chapter to my novel I Am Zombie. It’s about a guy who wakes up to discover he has turned into a zombie, but hates this new existence. He still hasn’t realized who he is yet. Novel is complete, but editing it now and have some beta readers looking at it.
February 17, 2015 — 9:33 PM
Cheryl M. says:
Hi Josh! I like the imagery your passage evokes. All the right words are there to make it pop. A few notes you may want to think about: repetitive narrative and passivity. Go through it and cross out words that have been repeated. Use different words or if you can’t then the sentence isn’t necessary. The first sentence is passive. You want to make it active, pop, get the reader hooked if it is the very first words of your book. Move ‘my toes itched’ there and see what happens. Now readers are hooked and wondering why and what’s going on xD
February 18, 2015 — 10:24 AM
Josh says:
Thanks! It’s not the first words of the book, but, perhaps I could experiment a bit more and move them around. I like your suggestions. Thanks again! 😀
February 18, 2015 — 11:47 AM
Johan says:
Hi Josh,
you paint a very nasty and lovely picture of being bitten. I would ditch the first sentence, just let it start with him looking around. I would also cut the part where he asks himself why he could smell the city. Let the readers do that work themselves, your writing is strong enough to make them.
Telling the zombie’s tale is a really nice perspective, I’m curious to see where it goes from here.
February 18, 2015 — 3:56 PM
Josh says:
Thanks a lot! I think I agree about “smiling the city.” A good point. 😀 Cheers!
February 19, 2015 — 11:54 AM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
I love the idea of a zombie from a different perspective. I think the first paragraph could benefit from a little clarity. I don’t know if a person could describe their own eyes as wide and alert- that seems like something that would have to be noticed by someone else. I’ve seem some really good tips in this thread about showing instead of telling, and I would go through and try to find some advice about that. It’s definitely something I’m going to be taking back to my WIP. I love the imagery of the insects and creatures all over as the MC starts to register his body. Good luck with your work!
February 19, 2015 — 5:59 AM
Josh says:
Another good tip. Thanks! I’ve been going through editing the “show not tell,” but never considered the eyes. Good…eyes…on that one. Thanks! I’ve got some beta readers looking at the MS now, so hopefully they’ll point out a few more things as well.
February 19, 2015 — 11:56 AM
genihuot says:
She came here often. Perhaps too often. Every detail of this place was ingrained in her memory. How the trees circled the lake and how the shoreline gradually turned to unruly grass as it raced towards the forest. A cliff on the southern side soared above the water, capped with an intimidating castle that, depending on the visit, seemed full of life or devastatingly desolate.
She had never ventured near the castle. There was no need. The lake was her escape. The young woman pulled her knees closer to her chest and waited. What had she come here for again? Oh yes. She remembered now. This was the one place, the only place, she felt… at ease. She could be herself here. No mask, no fear, no insecurity. Just bone and flesh and warmth; just Gwen.
February 17, 2015 — 10:53 PM
Claire says:
Love the first paragraph. you painted such a beautiful picture and I know exactly what this place looks like!
February 18, 2015 — 1:45 PM
genihuot says:
Thank you Claire! This intro has been through so many iterations it is great to know this one seems to be working.
February 20, 2015 — 8:08 PM
Aaron says:
The first four sentences have a nice rhythm. I also like the voice in the second paragraph: “What had she come here for again? Oh yes. She remembered now.” Although it seems odd that she should forget why she came.
February 19, 2015 — 12:22 AM
genihuot says:
Thanks Aaron!
Great point – I will toy with that piece a bit more. Perhaps subbing in “Why” for “What” – I will probably try a few different versions until I find a good fit. It isn’t so much that she has forgotten her purpose in this place, but rather she is vaguely surprised at finding herself in her “special place” when she did not intend to impose on that reverie.
February 20, 2015 — 8:13 PM
Wade Wayne says:
I made my way into the back room where the clerk had come from, in it, I found the butchered remains of humans and animals alike, all of them horribly mutilated. Every so often I would see one with human teeth marks in it. I found a rifle propped up in the corner, a 22. by the looks of it, single shot, bolt action. I checked the chamber, and to my relief I found a bullet inside it. I searched the room for a way out, but found none. Then from the other room, I heard a familiar southern drawl call out “Ma! Come quick! Billy’s hurt’in!” as the voice was speaking, I clicked the safety off. I put the gun up to my shoulder, and turned the corner, I saw the redheaded teen, but I didn’t shoot him. “Where in God’s earth am I?” I asked. His head snapped around and his eyes grew big as saucers. “You… You aren’t supposed to be alive…” I stood there firm, and unfazed. The old woman descended the stairs, and upon seeing me, her face lit up with joy. My reaction was about the same as yours probably was, I was surprised. “Get up off the ground you mangy child! Its the chosen one!” she said, clear excitement laced through her voice, “Oh we have so much to show him! Come! Your empire awaits!”
“My what?” I was aghast, the woman was clearly deranged but the kid, he was young, and seemed to be perfectly in his right mind. The woman ran up to me and put a hand on my arm, before proceeding to guide me up the stairs. I realized the brick wall had been nothing more then a false wall, and as we exited, I saw a dark, foreboding hallway before me. We passed by door after door, and the hallway seemed to never end, and we passed room after room, all the doors were the same, wooden frame with a steel barred window. I dared not look into them, until a hand grabbed my other arm. I turned and gazed at the owner of the hand, it was a image that stuck out in my mind. The man had no human skin on his face, and no from of lips or gums, leaving his teeth fully exposed. Certain teeth were rotting, and it was clear his gum line was slowly receding due to excessive rot. Where there should have been human flesh, there was some sort of fur, clearly stitched on, and one of his eyes was gouged out. The hand that had grabbed me was shackled in a grotesque way, it seemed to have dug into the mans skin, but the skin was growing back around it. He said no words, but the look in the eye told me exactly what he wanted to say. “Help me”
February 18, 2015 — 1:52 AM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
From my weird west/fantasy short story WIP (Ghost Town). Just wondering if this description of the prairie trolls works. Thanks!
Round shapes moved across the plains, darker than the surrounding night as they rolled and bounced toward them. Prairie trolls—at least a dozen.
Resembling enormous tumbleweeds, they overtook unsuspecting animals and riders, grabbed hold, and eviscerated their prey with razor teeth and jagged claws. As they kept tumbling, they left blood and screams in their wake.
“Ride!” Peregrine kicked Ice into a gallop. She and Carmelita needed no more encouragement, and Manon, leaning low over Storm’s neck, was right beside them.
“What’s coming?”
“Troll swarm!”
A bone-chilling sound carried across the prairie—howls, squeals, and the cries of animals caught in the swarm.
February 18, 2015 — 2:21 AM
Sarah says:
Hi Monica! I think the description of the prairie trolls works. I felt nervous while reading : ) I think the last sentence has potential to evoke fear through a little reconstruction (switching the parts separated by the hyphen or leading with the latter part). Reading, “howls, squeals, and the cries of the animals caught in the swarm,” makes me scared for the animals and then the other people on the plain!!! It’s great!! I think leading with that adds suspense and a sense of showing. I am also intrigued by the idea of a weird west/fantasy. Cool idea.
February 18, 2015 — 8:34 AM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
Thanks for the feedback, Sarah! I’ll take a closer look at that last sentence; I think you’re right that I can get a bit more immediacy out of it. 😀
February 18, 2015 — 12:25 PM
cameronwalker27 says:
I love the idea of Prairie Trolls! An original monster is hard to invent, and these sound really cool.
February 18, 2015 — 9:40 AM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
Thank you, Cameron. I’m kinda fond of the nasty buggers, too. 😀
February 18, 2015 — 12:26 PM
Sarah says:
Abdul contemplated where to hang the lions. A package arrived from Nigeria and Merna arranged for it to be stored in the professor’s office. The wooden cargo rested postjourney to Massachusetts in the large space under the transom window. Time cluttered the top with leather-bound books, documents, a briefcase, students’ papers, a pair of tweezers, and an old abacus.
February 18, 2015 — 8:04 AM
Elizabeth Mallory says:
I know you’re going for drama with that first sentence – and it totally had it (hang lions? What?) – but I got quickly confused with the following lines. By “a package” do you mean the lions? (Just say “they.”) Are they dead or alive? There’s a little too much mystery here. It’s okay to leave Merna undescribed (I’m assuming we’ll meet her soon) but these lions confuse me.
On the other hand, you did a great job setting the scene. I feel like I’m there and I can picture what kind of a person s/he is. I could smell leather and dust, feel old book spines, and hear the buzz of insects.
February 18, 2015 — 9:55 AM
Sarah says:
Elizabeth Mallory, thank you for reading what I posted and giving thoughtful feedback. I really appreciate it. Back to Word for me and I look forward to the trip. Thanks again : )
February 18, 2015 — 9:44 PM
Monica Enderle Pierce says:
Like, Elizabeth, I found this a bit confusing. Yet I like it a lot; it’s intriguing and you set the mood nicely. But here’s what I think is causing the confusion:
There’s a discrepancy with tenses. Your first and third sentences are past tense, while the second and fourth sentences should be past perfect (a package *had* arrived/Merna *had* arranged/time *had* cluttered).
Also consider offsetting “post-journey to Massachusetts” with commas or hyphens.
What is time cluttering the top of? The cargo (Is this a cargo box?) or the transom window? And a transom window is a high, narrow rectangular window, but I get the impression that this is a lower crate. However, since you’ve indicated that the space is large, my mind wants to picture it as a tall crate. But, if I do that, then the tweezers wouldn’t be noticeable. So, is it *not* a transom window? (All of this feedback is assuming that the package and the cargo are the same. Or are they not?)
I hope this is helpful! 🙂
February 18, 2015 — 1:03 PM
Sarah says:
Monica. Thank you for taking the time to read my post and provide detailed feedback. It is very helpful. Especially how you posed ideas in question form. I’m so glad you mentioned the tenses. I overthink it a lot and am prone to switching. I need to clarify things for sure. Thanks again. I really appreciate it. : )
February 18, 2015 — 9:53 PM
Elizabeth Mallory says:
The teahouse was loud with beer-enhanced laughter and the roll of dice. Three men came in and adjusted their dirty robes importantly as they took a table. I hurried over keeping my tea tray steady and my eyes carefully lowered. Usually I didn’t even give a respectful bow—our types of customers didn’t expect such things. But I feared if I raised my gaze, I’d find the man in the corner watching me again.
His long black hair was knotted at the back of his head and he had fearsome scars. He hadn’t stopped staring at me since he came in, gazing with unequaled intensity.
February 18, 2015 — 9:57 AM
Tara (T. T. Kesley) says:
Very good! I like the descriptions and I would read on.
I have just one little nitpick. It sounds like you have already introduced the man in the corner. In that case, the description of his looks seems like it would fit better in your initial introduction. You could also add it later instead if the main character decides to talk to the man. Right now, she has her eyes on the ground so a description of his looks feels a little out of place. That might just be my personal preference, though.
February 18, 2015 — 2:45 PM
Jana says:
This is a fun opening paragraph. The description is interesting and there are some nice details such as the dirty robes on people who feel they are important. It feels a bit Asian in flavor to me which is also interesting. A couple minor things. First of all this sounds like an alehouse, not a teahouse. Most classic teahouses don’t sell liquors, so the beer-enhanced laughter and the the loudness doesn’t ring right in my head. An alehouse seems to be closer to what you’re working with. Now this may be something specific to the culture you’re building in the story, but if so you need to give the reader just a little more to work with to set expectations. The last phrase gazing with unequaled intensity, throws me. Unequaled, to what? And staring is already a stronger term than gazing. Maybe try something along the lines of: He hadn’t stopped staring at me since he came in, his stare heavy and intense. Or something just to break that up a little. It also keeps you from using gaze and gazing at each ending sentence. 🙂
February 20, 2015 — 1:11 PM
Tara (T. T. Kesley) says:
“Guilty,” Marna forced the words out the narrow corridors of her throat, but they came up a mere croak. Her heart hammered against her chest, thumping and thumping. The warm light radiating from the ceiling shone down on her silky white skin until drops of sweat dripped down her face onto the pristine humming floor. “G – g – guilty!” she spat the words in a strangled scream.
The man towering above her moved his face before hers until Marna could count the strands of hair on his eyebrows, “You confess that you are, in fact, guilty?” he smiled, wider and wider, as he spoke.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”
The man crossed his arms and threw his head up, “You heard her?” his voice strained exultantly. “You heard her?!”
February 18, 2015 — 2:46 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
Oh. I absolutely love the panic I feel as this girl is confessing. I instantly doubt her guilt, I instantly feel nervous about the man over her. I had a couple questions about the wording- “pristine humming floor” took me out of it, and you might lose thumping and thumping. The ending paragraph is wonderfully eerie. I would definitely read more.
February 19, 2015 — 6:03 AM
Johan says:
Here’s a piece of word-barf from the first draft of my WIP, an urban fantasy piece. Or is it just a mystery novel? The main character gets a guided tour through the run down city center by a jittery guy with a very slight, still clearly discernable, french accent:
“They keep them locked up in there. All of them”
Yann nodded towards the high rise across the river. Cold blue lights were still burning in a few windows.
“How many?”
“More than fifty, that’s what people say. Some are just girls, but I know that there are mothers up there as well.”
“Why? Do they force them to work the streets? Clubs?”
“Nah, they just make them cry. They do nasty stuff to make them cry. To keep them crying”
He looked down at his shoes, then back at me. There was a flash of embarrasment in his eyes, then he spoke again, voice lower now.
“They make them weep to please the gods of despair and chaos. That’s what I hear.”
“Wait, what? Gods? Of chaos? There are gods of chaos? Here in the city? Are you out of your mind?”
“Heck do I know. I didn’t say it makes sense, did I.”
February 18, 2015 — 3:44 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
Ugh, ew, gross. This is actually a huge compliment. I definitely felt a reaction to your premise. How gross and creepy and eerie and ew. I’m interested in the jittery guy. Does he know about the people keeping the women locked up? Is he with them or just an observer? I do question why the MC would jump immediately to assuming the Gods of despair and chaos are present in the city. Does he have prior knowledge of this? I would definitely read more, good luck!
February 19, 2015 — 6:08 AM
Johan says:
Thanks for reading, I’m happy that you reacted that way. I got the image in my head and reacted the same way, so I knew I had to put it on paper.
I agree with your words about the main character’s response, it shouldn’t be that immediate. Thanks for that. The jittery guy deserves good writing, but I’m not sure where he wants to end up in the long run. I like him, so I’ll let him hang around to see if he does anything spectacular.
Oh, and the MC isn’t a he.
February 19, 2015 — 2:35 PM
Zdroik says:
Growing up on Mortal Kombat —
“Bro, give me the fucking basketball and no one has to get hurt.”
That’s how first grade went for me. Exactly. It was the week before the Reading Marathon Day or whatever the name of that day was, who knows. The one Friday during Elementary School when the only thing you did was read for an entire day. You could also wear pajamas I’m pretty sure and bring in blankets and pillows to sit on and create forts with. It was basically a free day, when you moved all of the desks in the classroom to the walls and then set up this big party in the middle with food and books and overall goodness. Well, something like that. But no matter how it went, it was my favorite day of the entire school year.
February 18, 2015 — 5:51 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
I really like your title and first sentence. It reminds me of elementary school in the early 90s. I wish the following paragraph went more into the threatening kid from the first sentence. I like that you describe Reading Marathon Day (more memories of school) but I think you could tighten it up, lose some of your questioning words. The entire thing is very nostalgic, and I’m curious to read more. Is this a memoir? I’m still really into the title. Good luck!
February 19, 2015 — 6:30 AM
Zdroik says:
Thanks for reading! And yes you got it all down, elementary in the 90s! It’s part of a short story.
February 22, 2015 — 8:06 PM
ashlie elizabeth (@mygirlsimple) says:
An exchange from my NaNoWriMo project, a YA Fantasy novel. I’ve loved reading through everyone’s snippets. Thanks for this cool opportunity!
“Don’t,” Hazen said flatly, putting a hand against his chest and pushing him back. Myer put his hands up, shoulder level, mirroring his stance from earlier with the crossbow. “You’re mad at Romilda, not me, so leave me alone. If you keep talking to me like that I’m going to leave you here.”
“Alone in the woods?” mocked Myer in a soft voice.
“Alone in this world,” Hazen returned shortly.
Myer stopped and narrowed his eyes at her appraisingly.
“You would not,” he said, all dalliance gone from his voice.
“Keep treating me that way, and you can find out whether I would or not,” returned Hazen. She knew her color was high and she was breathing more quickly than she would have liked, but her voice was strong, in a way it might not have been even a day ago. Hazen was done with his harassment. She had power now, and she was going to use it.
February 19, 2015 — 6:23 AM
stlcounterpoint says:
Ashlie, hello!
I like that you’ve loaded the tension right away with pushing. I’m also intrigued by what alone in the world means; so, this provides a good mystery to hook the reader.
This seems to be 3rd person omniscient POV because we are in the heads of both Hazen and Myer. This can be a bit confusing switching back and forth. Also, the first paragraph introduces three names, one of which we don’t see in the snippet you’ve posted. to me, this is confusing who the main character is supposed to be. It’s also a lot of people to remember right away with only a bit of dialogue. In the first paragraph, I thought Myer was the main character, but the final paragraph of your snippet seems to point to Hazen as the main character.
Hope this helps! Thanks for sharing.
February 19, 2015 — 10:07 AM
stlcounterpoint says:
My fans. I love and loathe them simultaneously. These are the people that propelled me to wealth and fame. Because of them, my life…I have been noticed. Through them, I put a dent in the universe when so many souls barely distort the local gravitational field. Because of them, I’ve been frightened in a way that no war ever could manage. I am called Jadrash. On my homeworld, this means “One Who Rises.” The translation is much more inspiring than actual life. Though, I did climb out of humble origins to a universal stage. An argument could be made that starting out a small town farm hand and then working up to the galactic cluster’s favorite war reporter counts as rising. Out of humble beginnings and all.
February 19, 2015 — 10:09 AM