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I’m thinking of starting a critique group where I will post bits & pieces as I write them. Sometimes I write out of order. Most of the time I try to keep it “in line”. Will it be all right if I post those bits & pieces here – in this topic?
For instance…
Stronger than you Think
[Markus Brody] stood at the top of the hill nearest his house located on the outskirts of Bramble Creek, [State name]. He gazed into the distance, asking himself why he didn’t just leave this place. No one was likely to miss him if he made a run for it.
I’m not brave enough to do that. As badly as Pa treats me I can’t’ desert him like that. He squatted and plucked some of that grass from the wealth of [dancing, long green stems]. Straightening to his full height of nearly six feet, Markus fiddled with two of the [long] pieces, allowing the others to fall unnoticed back to the ground.
If only his father was more willing to bend. Unlike this grass, he was rigid and cold. Unfeeling is how his mother put it the day before she disappeared. He never saw the shrunken, former blond again.
@kaymart Hey! That sounds very interesting. I can’t promise I’ll be able to critique all your bits and pieces, but I can give you my comments on this one. 🙂
So, that bit of writing is very intriguing. I like the simple symbolism of the bending grass. One thing I think should probably be reworded is the part where Marcus says why he can’t leave. First he says he’s not brave enough, which implies that he is afraid of what would happen if he did leave, which the reader might think includes fear of his father. Then he says that he can’t desert his father, even though his father treats him badly, which implies that he has feelings of love toward his father. Those are two conflicting reasons, and when they’re worded in the way you put it they feel like they’re trying to go together, but can’t.
Not leaving because he is afraid of his father and not leaving because he loves his father are nearly opposites, and while they might both be true, I feel like the way it is worded the explanation doesn’t work very well.
So…does that make sense at all? I’m not very good at explaining things, so if it doesn’t just let me know and I’ll try again. 😉
"Sylvester - Sylvester!"
@kaymart Yeah I think that’s a good idea, though I don’t know if I’ll be able to critique every bit of story you post. But I’ll do my best. 😉 I really like the part you posted there; Rochellaine covered the suggestions I’d have too.
I'm a Kapeefer 'TIL WE'RE OLD AND GREY!
www.jennaterese.comTHANKS to you both!!
I haven’t been able to get here, and had forgotten about this story. I may work on it occasionally, but I’ll be posting other bits and pieces if you don’t mind.
@kaymart I look forward to it. 🙂
I'm a Kapeefer 'TIL WE'RE OLD AND GREY!
www.jennaterese.comI’m back – at last – and I’ll begin posting some bits and pieces in this thread. Today is when I plan to start.
Let’s get started…
This first bit is the first part of a character interview. Well, of sorts. You’ll see. Warning, it is over 1K words and it’s not finished.
I hesitate as I enter the coffee shop, glancing left and right as I try to locate the woman I am supposed to be interviewing today. After contacting her about this I nearly canceled the entire idea after hearing her get all choked up about the memories. They must have been horrendous.
Not seeing anyone who resembled the middle-aged woman I spoke on the phone with just two days ago, and so I chose one of the empty tables in a corner thinking she would prefer the solitude for this [interview]. I don’t want her to decide that answering my queries will only upset her and leaving.
I ordered a mocha for while I await her arrival, sipping on the hot beverage as I leaf through the thin stack of papers in front of me on the table. Each time the door opens I glance up, hoping it’s the subject of this interview. Usually sighing with disappointment when I see it’s a man or an older couple–or a younger couple. I doubt she would bring anyone with her.
I was busily reading through my notes and writing down key words to remind me of questions I had forgotten to put on the list when the door opened for the umpteenth time. As had become almost customary for me, I glanced up as the cold air from outside fluttered the pages spread out on the small table. I sighed. Another couple.
But something about this couple struck me as peculiar. They appeared somehow familiar to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint from where. My eyes remained glued to them, observing as the man grasped the woman’s elbow gently, protectively. Almost as if doing his best to keep from losing her. I absently wonder why that is, but at just that moment she meets my eyes. The reluctant smile lifting the corners of her mouth prompts my own.
The man glances in my direction when she says something to him, and he responds to her before starting towards me. I lift my coffee cup as a way of greeting them, nodding toward the cash register to indicate they might want to get something before starting. They change directions.
“Good morning.” His greeting sounds almost stilted, and I wonder if I inviting him was a good idea. He appears a bit more protective of the woman than is normal.
But maybe there’s more to the story than I know.
I stand, holding out my hand first to the woman who grasps it and gives it a good shake before releasing it and tucking her hand back into her coat pocket. I turn slightly, offering my hand to the man as well, but his expression gives me the impression he will refuse. However, before I have the chance to withdraw my hand he reaches out and grabs ahold of it, shaking it a bit too vigorously.
“Don’t hurt her,” the woman reprimands him softly, nudging his arm. He releases me, his hand going back to [grasp] her arm once more in his.
“Do either of you want something to drink? Coffee or water? I think they also have milk. Or perhaps you’d like something to eat?” I clasp my hands behind my back while I wait for their replies. The man’s arm now surrounds the woman’s shoulders, hugging her to himself as if permitting her to move about would allow someone to steal her away.I raise an eyebrow at the odd possessiveness of the man but say nothing because–as before–it could be due to something of which I’m not aware. Instead, I motion to the cashier, then the table and chairs.
“So,” I start, “would you like anything before we begin?” They glance at each other, and the woman nods quickly. The man accompanying her helps her to sit–I’m only just noticing the cane she holds in her hand. I quickly jot down the word /cane/ as a way to remember my question about it.
The man goes to place their order–hers, rather–leaving the woman sitting and me standing as I watch him. The coat hides most of his appearance, but his strong, square jawline and prominent nose tell me he’s used to the out of doors. The winter cap sitting askew on his head [hides] most of his hair, but I can just make out some chestnut brown ends sticking out from beneath the knit fabric.
“Did you make his hat?” I glance over at the woman as I ask her this; my notebook remains closed so she knows I’m not interviewing her yet. She blinks in surprise that I’m addressing her–I wonder why that is–and glances toward the man who came with her. He’s standing at the counter waiting for what he ordered to come through. I raise an eyebrow again at how he digs in his pocket when the cashier returns and tells him the cost.
/Didn’t he have time to get money out while he was waiting?/ I shake my head before turning back to the woman sitting at the table and fingering the delicate-looking pendant around her neck. The oval shape is too small for holding pictures, but the light shining above our heads reveals there is an inscription. But it’s too small for me to read from this distance.
“What does it say?” I indicate the necklace, hoping she will understand and tell me the answer. She looks down, gripping the [pendant] tightly in one hand, as though fearing I might take it. I reached out and placed my hand over hers instead. She glanced up suddenly, her eyes wide and a little squeak escaping her. I tried to reassure her by smiling again. Her hand remained stiff beneath mine, however, and I withdrew.
“You seem a bit jumpy to me,” I say as I maintain eye contact. “Would you mind telling me why that is?” She glances towards her companion nervously, her eyes widening when she sees him approaching. I’m not entirely sure why she’s so afraid, and follow her gaze. The man coming towards us is carrying a steaming cup of coffee in each hand. The expression on his face could be one of either anger or blankness.
I glance back at the woman–she still hadn’t told me her name–to find her eyeing the man with a kind of apprehensiveness. I’m not sure why she looks so afraid, but I want to let her know she isn’t alone. I’m here to help her if the need should arise.
@kaymart I really like this bit! It makes me want to read more. 🙂
I’m going to tag some more people so they can read it too 🙂 @seekjustice @rochellaine @ariel-ashira @alia @catwing @daughteroftheking @valtmy
I'm a Kapeefer 'TIL WE'RE OLD AND GREY!
www.jennaterese.com@kaymart Hm, I have so many questions now. 😀 I like it!
Blog: https://weridasusual.home.blog/
I must apologize for a few reasons.
First, because I haven’t been around. That’s completely my fault. I had actually forgotten about this account altogether. I became quite occupied with StoryEmbers.org and so this one completely slipped my mind.
If you would like me to begin posting bits and pieces here again, I shall do that sometime “soon”.
@kaymart That’s totally okay! There are a lot of us on Story Embers and here at the same time. 😉 I look forward to more bits and pieces!
I'm a Kapeefer 'TIL WE'RE OLD AND GREY!
www.jennaterese.com
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