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Monday, March 26, 2012

First 250 Words Work Shop: #Y2 - Stephanie Diaz



We are joining forces with Brenda Drake, Shelley Watters and Erica Chapman in critiquing the first 250 words of manuscripts of the lucky 60 people who signed up for the After the Madness Workshop.

YAtopians Sarah Nicolas, Kelley York, Sharon Johnston and Leigh Fallon have taken on a few workshop submission each to provide some feedback on the opening paragraphs. We'd love it if you'd add your thoughts (constructive criticism only please) and visit the other critiquers blogs to provide more feedback on the other work submitted:

Brenda Drake
Shelley Watters
Erica Chapman

Time to get into it.

#Y2 - Stephanie Diaz

Original
Today is the day I have to prove I deserve to stay alive.
I stand in the dirt beside the fence that separates my shack from the street, watching the last of the moon slip away in the sky. My grip tightens on the tie on the waist of my dress, and my knuckles whiten. My mind flits between thinking too many things and thinking nothing at all.
Children head down the road. I wonder if they stayed awake all night, like I did. I wonder where Logan is and how a “few extra hours” of work for “ill attitude,” as our overseer put it, turned into twelve. He should be here already.
Biting my lip, I stare at each minuscule chip of wood in the fence.
My fingers grasp the fence and squeeze so hard they burn.
“Hey, Clementine!”
I snap my head up.
Logan hobbles toward me, holding something in his hand.
I start running to meet him, maybe to yell at him for taking so long, but I see what it is, what he's holding. And I stop moving.
In his fingers, he twirls a flower that could kill me.
I like to think I'm one of the braver kids. Sure, some days the whippings and beatings make me want to curl up in a ball. When I dream of Logan getting carted off to quarantine, I wake drenched in sweat and trembling, but I master it pretty quick. I get over it. I have to be good at ignoring my fear, because how else will I prove I deserve to escape it?


Today is the day I have to prove I deserve to stay alive.
Great opening line. It could work even better if you shorten it to: Today I have to prove I deserve to stay alive.
I stand in the dirt beside the fence that separates my shack from the street, watching the last of the moon slip away in the sky. (nice description) My grip tightens on the tie on the waist of my dress, and my knuckles whiten. My mind flits between thinking too many things and thinking nothing at all.
Children head down the road. I wonder if they stayed awake all night, like I did. I wonder where Logan is and how a “few extra hours” of work for “ill attitude,” as our overseer put it, turned into twelve. He should be here already.
Biting my lip, I stare at each minuscule chip of wood in the fence.
My fingers grasp the fence and squeeze so hard they burn.
“Hey, Clementine!”
I snap my head up.
Logan hobbles toward me, holding something in his hand.
I start running to meet him, maybe to yell at him for taking so long, but I see what it is, what he's holding. And I stop moving.
In his fingers, he twirls a flower that could kill me. Oh, intriguing!
I like to think I'm one of the braver kids. Sure, some days the whippings and beatings make me want to curl up in a ball. When I dream of Logan getting carted off to quarantine, I wake drenched in sweat and trembling, but I master it pretty quick. I get over it. I have to be good at ignoring my fear, because how else will I prove I deserve to escape it?

Technically this writing it good. There are parts that draw me in, but overall I think it needs a little bit more world building and scene description. 250 words isn't much, I know, but don't forget smell and surroundings. Hopefully this is something you get into after this. I wanted to know more about the stakes. She seemed more concerned about Logan than her impending issue, which I found odd. I think that opening with a bit more about the MC will strengthen the investment from the reader.

3 comments:

  1. I really liked this.

    IMO, the opening was confusing, and some of it held backstory which I don't want until I have a better grip on the character. I thought the story was perfect from "He should be here already." on. I think that would be a perfect opening line and the story from that point on was immediate action. I would start there and cut what was before that. :)

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  2. I actually found the opening to be an eye roller. I've read a lot of opening lines that start with either "staying alive" or "dying." That frustrates me. However, the author redeemed herself with the fact that the MC can die with a flower. WOW, I did not see that coming. Good job!

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  3. Today is the day I have to prove I deserve to stay alive.
    ((This doesn't catch my attention for an opening line.))

    I stand in the dirt beside the fence that separates my shack from the street, watching the last of the moon slip away in the sky. My grip tightens on the tie on the waist of my dress, and my knuckles whiten. My mind flits between thinking too many things and thinking nothing at all.
    ((This doesn't really tell us much. What's she doing? What's going on? It isn't leading us anywhere and in your first 250 words, you don't want that.))

    Children head down the road. I wonder if they stayed awake all night, like I did. I wonder where Logan is and how a “few extra hours” of work for “ill attitude,” as our overseer put it, turned into twelve. He should be here already.
    ((Here we go. This is your starting point. Some variation of this paragraph should be your starting point.))


    Biting my lip, I stare at each minuscule chip of wood in the fence.
    My fingers grasp the fence and squeeze so hard they burn.
    ((You already made a mention about fingers grasping and grip tightening. There are other senses you could be using. Smell, for instance. Dusty road, unwashed people who've been working, is it hot or cold, etc.))

    “Hey, Clementine!”

    I snap my head up.

    Logan hobbles toward me, holding something in his hand.

    I start running to meet him, maybe to yell at him for taking so long, but I see what it is, what he's holding. And I stop moving.
    In his fingers, he twirls a flower that could kill me.
    ((I like this mention of the flower! Interesting.))

    I like to think I'm one of the braver kids. Sure, some days the whippings and beatings make me want to curl up in a ball. When I dream of Logan getting carted off to quarantine, I wake drenched in sweat and trembling, but I master it pretty quick. I get over it. I have to be good at ignoring my fear, because how else will I prove I deserve to escape it?
    ((Dragging a bit. With the line about the flower, I'd like to hear more about that. This could be cut shorter. 'I like to think I'm one of the braver kids. Even on my worst days, I master my fear pretty quick. I get over it.' The rest isn't needed just yet, because you've started an interesting tangent with that flower and your readers are going to want some sort of explanation.))

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