Next,

Author’s note: the protagonist is twelve

Mesmerized by harsh, emerald eyes staring back at me, I didn’t notice his hand until it was sliding down my shoulder. Even then, I didn’t look down at it. He walked a few feet away and joined the other two boys. Disappointed, I realized my arm felt wet. I distractedly swiped my hand across my shoulder and looked at. There was blood on my fingers. Yelping, I looked down and saw a red smear going down the length of my arm. Attempting not to scream, I looked at it more closely and almost fainted right there.

This is good.  Let’s tweak it a bit:

I didn’t notice his hand until it was sliding

Until it slid – it reads a bit more active.

I distractedly swiped my hand

We don’t really need this adverb right here.  We know she’s still watching him walking away and is distracted.

I swiped my hand across my shoulder and looked at. There was blood on my fingers.

We know she looked at it – because she sees blood in the next sentence.

There was blood on my fingers.

Let’s make this a bit active.  Any time there is/there was is employed, there is usually a way to make it sound a bit less passive.  How about:

Blood stained my fingers.

Next,

Yelping, I looked down and saw a red smear going down the length of my arm.

I have a bit of a problem with this.  Awhile ago I wrote a post on stimulus> reaction sequence. I can’t find it.  (Argh.)  But basically I made a point that our reactions actually happen in stages.  The stages that take the least time/effort happen first.  That’s why physical reactions almost always precede anything that requires brain power.

Stimulus: flame of a candle.

Stage one – involuntary response.  We jerk our hand away.   It takes almost no time for our body to process it and it happens immediately.  This is usually a purely “muscular” response.

Stage two – brain processes pain and comes with a simplest mental response.  We yell, “Ow!”

Stage three – brain recognizes the stupidity of touching the candle by forming appropriate thoughts.

Stage four – we vocalize.  “Who the hell put this candle right here?”

We’re wired that way, because it helps us to survive.  If the reactions were reversed, we’d burn all the meat off our fingers.

Let’s do another one.

Stimulus: a growl behind our back on a deserted road.

Stage one – freeze.  Muscular response to immediate threat.  Ever notice that you typically can’t think for a second or two when startled?  It’s mother’s nature fail safe.  Given a chance, we’ll think ourselves to death, instead of running for our lives.

Stage two – thinking.  It’s a dog.  It has to be a dog, what else it could be?

Stage three – slow turning around.

Stage four – recognition of a threat.

Stage five – response.  “Hi, Curran.  Fancy meeting you here.”

Now let’s go back to our example.

Stimulus: wet hand

Stage one – yelp.

Stage two – look.

Do you see how we’ve got reversed here?  Looking takes less energy than yelping.  Let’s put the reactions in the right order.

I looked down and saw a red smear going down the length of my arm. I yelped.

Better.

(This is a personal preference right here.  If it was me, I’d isolate the smear, but the paragraph reads perfectly well without it.

I looked down.  A red smear ran down the length of my arm.  I yelped.

Stimulus>reaction, stimulus> reaction.)

Why is this toy useful?  Besides making the reactions more believable, it also helps with the creepy.  If you look at the previous paragraph (#29) you will see the author quite skillfully fold several hours away.  The time wasn’t important, only the end result was, and so she just glossed over the time.

There are times when every second is important.  The more detailed you make something, the more attention the reader will pay to it.  Scary, creepy moments get detail by detail treatment.  Confrontations with villains.  Preludes to sex, etc.  You can really ratchet the tension up if you take it one step at a time.’

Let’s see where we are if we put it all together.

I swiped my hand across my shoulder.  Blood stained my fingers. I looked down.  A red smear ran down the length of my arm.  I yelped.  Attempting not to scream, I looked at it more closely and almost fainted right there.

That yelped just kind of sticks out and conflicts with the fact that she doesn’t want to scream.  I’d kill it.

I think we also have too many “look” in the paragraph, so I would replace one with synonyms in the final version.

Before:

Mesmerized by harsh, emerald eyes staring back at me, I didn’t notice his hand until it was sliding down my shoulder. Even then, I didn’t look down at it. He walked a few feet away and joined the other two boys. Disappointed, I realized my arm felt wet. I distractedly swiped my hand across my shoulder and looked at. There was blood on my fingers. Yelping, I looked down and saw a red smear going down the length of my arm. Attempting not to scream, I looked at it more closely and almost fainted right there.

After:

Mesmerized by harsh, emerald eyes staring back at me, I didn’t notice his hand until it slid down my shoulder. Even then, I didn’t look down at it. He walked a few feet away and joined the other two boys. Disappointed, I realized my arm felt wet. I swiped my hand across my shoulder.  Blood stained my fingers. I glanced down and saw a red smear going down the length of my arm. Attempting not to scream, I looked at it more closely and almost fainted right there.

Good job on the paragraph.  Just need to tweak the details. 

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Happy Friday,

The power of attraction between them had quadrupled since they’d last met and they escaped the restaurant separately as discreetly as The Ivy’s entrance, circled by paparazzi, would permit. A text message and two black cab rides later, they were reunited in his flat, snogging like hormones-driven teenagers, carelessly tearing off articles of clothing, groping blindingly at every bit of revealed skin. The bed groaned, pleaded, begged for mercy but none was given. It had been way too long.

I am torn.  On one hand, look at this paragraph: it’s all had been and was verb.  But, and this trumps everything, it reads well.  The touch of passive verbs makes it seem as if the attraction between the couple has taken them over and they’re no longer in control. It reads fast.

It’s also a very nicely done time summary.  Look, the couple is moved from the restaraunt to the apartment, from dinner through sex and we’re clued in.

It works.  Carry one.

PS.  I’d change hormones-driven to hormon-driven.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Jess asks:

The Paragraphs you help edit in your blog posts, do people just send them to you and you randomly pick them or is it just one person you are helping with their story writing?

An embarassingly long time ago I offered to critique 1 paragraph of 100 words on the blog.  I opened the comments for 24 hours and got a very large number of entries.  I’m still going through them.

I had to stop for a while, because I was in revisions and in a bad place professionally and didn’t want to apply that mindset to other people’s work.  This is meant to be a somewhat positive experience for brave souls who dared to send their work in.   :)  I’m not taking new entries at this time.  Maybe once I go through the paragraphs I have now, I’ll reopen to submissions, heh.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Next,

It started with a prickle at the back of her neck. Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar quickly, assessing each person for danger before moving on to the next. A quick glance showed her no one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists that thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station, and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

First things first:

A quick glance showed her no one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists that who thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station, and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

Now we have a couple of stylistic choices.  The paragraph is well written and works as is, but we could make it a touch sharper.

It started with a prickle at the back of her neck.

Good by itself.  We could flip it so it reads more active.  A prickle nipped the back of her neck, frex, but it works well as is.

Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar quickly, assessing each person for danger before moving on to the next.

Let’s look at the definition of scan from the dictionary:

scan

To scan already implies a quick and sweeping examination.  Which means that we can get rid of that quickly and before moving on to the next. This is what happens when you pick a right verb - it saves you a ton of words.

Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person for danger.

Do you see the issue here?

Let me highlight:

A) Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person for the signs of being in danger.

B) Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person as presenting potential danger.

Which one is it?  Is she surveying people in the bar like a bouncer to make sure all of them are safe or is she surveying them to make sure one of them isn’t going to nuke her in a minute?  Funny how word choice can alter the meaning of the sentence.

I’m guessing it’s Option B.  We have several stylistic options:

Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person as a potential threat.

Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person, searching for a potential threat.

Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person, wondering which one of them would strike.

And so on.

A quick glance showed her no one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists who thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

Here is an opportunity to drop the readers directly into the character’s head.  We don’t have to take that option but if we did, it would look like this:

No one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists who thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

We can maintain the distance - nothing at all wrong with that.  As I said, it’s a stylistic choice.

Before:

It started with a prickle at the back of her neck. Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar quickly, assessing each person for danger before moving on to the next. A quick glance showed her no one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists that thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station, and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

After:

It started with a prickle at the back of her neck. Lifting her head, she scanned the crowded bar, assessing each person as a potential threat.  No one out of the ordinary, just the usual smattering of disgruntled workers and tourists who thought visiting the bowels of NAME ME station and the bar named the Den of Inequity made for an adventure.

All in all, good paragraph.  Almost there.  :)  Keep it up!

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Morning!

You only felt fear when you had something to lose.
That phrase repeated through my head, especially when it seemed that the world was a living, breathing being, constantly remaking itself on every inhale, every exhale. A being that seriously enjoyed fucking with me.

Good paragraph.  The first sentence creates tension - what does the narrator have to lose? - and the second nicely continues it.

This is very short so only a couple of suggestions:  I’d switch the first sentence to the present tense.  If you notice, most proverbs and sayings are in present tense.  It make it more immediate.  I’d also italicize it.  Also, let’s try adding now before when.

You only feel fear when you have something to lose.
That phrase repeated through my head, especially now, when it seemed that the world was a living, breathing being, constantly remaking itself on every inhale, every exhale. A being that seriously enjoyed fucking with me.

This tells the reader that the world is screwing with our narrator right now and that trouble is ahead, which will hopefully keep the reader interested.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Moving on:

Jaered breathed in, smelling the tang of the few humans who dared walk among the vampires, and smirked to himself. Excitement, fear, and that ineffable thing that screamed ‘prey’ to all his instincts. Beneath it all, he gloated. Baby vampires like himself, younger than five years, weren’t supposed to be in a place like this. But he had known he could handle it—knew that the smell of blood, ever present in a place where humans came out and mingled with vampires—would not bother him. He was capable, able to rein in his thirst, able to look around and breathe in the blood but not attack.

This is very good.  Very different from my style, so I have to be a bit careful there.  Mostly this needs a slight word choice edit:

Excitement, fear, and that ineffable thing - want a more precise word here instead of thing: scent, flavor, spice, psychic aftertaste

Excitement, fear, and that ineffable thing that screamed ‘prey’ to all his instincts. Beneath it all, he gloated. - Beneath what all?  Those are not his emotions, those are the emotions he is sensing in the crowd.  Perhaps, deep inside 0r inwardly he gloated?

Also lookit here:

Jaered breathed in, smelling the tang of the few humans who dared walk among the vampires, and smirked to himself. Excitement, fear, and that ineffable thing that screamed ‘prey’ to all his instincts. Beneath it all, he gloated. Baby vampires like himself, younger than five years, weren’t supposed to be in a place like this. But he had known he could handle it—knew that the smell of blood, ever present in a place where humans came out and mingled with vampires—would not bother him. He was capable, able to rein in his thirst, able to look around and breathe in the blood but not attack.

Do you see how this is written in a circle?  He breathes in the blood of the humans who walk among vampires.  He is happy that he sneaked into this place where he breathes in the scent of blood of human who mingle with vampires.

I’d restructure this a bit to eliminate the repetition, but it would require severe rephrasing, and I’m not going to go there unless given permission.  I think this author can resolve this on their own :P.  Think of each paragraph as a tiny story delivering a clear message.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

Once a year the great devas gathered, making John feel like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs as he accompanied Lady Persephone, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres. He longed for the days when they met only every ten years, and cursed modern transportation. Now they could hop a plane and be sitting on John’s front lawn in a matter of hours. And this year, they would be. Sometimes John hated his life.

Very nice.  I like the frustration coming through the paragraph.  It’s an excellent mix of magic and mundane - here is John, who is going to have to weave his way through a crowd of monsters, and he is ticked off about it more than scared, almost as if he were a man in charge of family reunion and dreading it.  It’s precisely this mix of mundane and extraordinary that makes urban fantasy work.
Nitpicks:

Once a year the great devas gathered, making John feel like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs

Why it?  John is a he, dog can also be a he, so why it?  If you ask most people to compare themselves to an animal, they’ll typically match their gender.

as he accompanied Lady Persephone, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres.

Wanted a bit more here.  We can push the contrast and add to John’s characterization.  What kind of man is John?  What is he made of?

Smart John:

as he accompanied Lady Persephone murmuring pleasantries, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres.

Surly John:

as he accompanied Lady Persephone with a scowl on his face, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres.

Resigned John:

as he accompanied Lady Persephone dragging his feet, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres.

Terrified John:

as he accompanied Lady Persephone afraid to breathe in too deep, mingling amongst people who could eat him like an hors d’oeuvres.

Moving on:

He longed for the days when they met only every ten years, and cursed modern transportation.

He longed and cursed - no comma.

That’s about it.  Excellent paragraph.  Just a bit more detail and we’re there.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

Every night had to end eventually. The sun always rose. Always went down too, a little while later. Barring any disaster-movie-worthy cataclysm, the Earth would keep right on spinning. With that in mind, I knew it was only a matter of time until another force of nature bore down on me.

My mother.

She didn’t do it during the wedding, an act that permitted my sister to get married in peace. She went the entire ceremony without comment, she threw birdseed, took photos, and rode in the car to the reception hall without a single mention of it, jabbering happily as we followed the couple’s limousine.

Technically, there is nothing wrong with this.  This will be more a discussion than a crit.

Let’s talk a little bit about content.

There a bit of conflicting imagery going on here:

Every night had to end eventually. The sun always rose. - Reassuring image.  It can’t rain all the time.

Always went down too, a little while later. - Image implies danger - all good things come to an end.

Barring any disaster-movie-worthy cataclysm, the Earth would keep right on spinning.- Reassuring image.

With that in mind, I knew it was only a matter of time until another force of nature bore down on me. - Image implies inevitable danger.

There is too much back and forth going on. It might help if we pick a single message to create mood. Since it seems that mother is more of tornado-type occurrence, rather than a gentle spring rain,  I’d suggest toning down the positives and reinforcing the Good Thing Come To an End theme.  For example - and this is just me messing around, not an actual revision suggestion:

Every summer had to end eventually.  The sun always rose, but always went down too, a little while later.  The Earth kept right on spinning, bringing with it typhoons, tornadoes, and hurricanes. With that in mind, I knew it was only a matter of time until a disaster-movie-worthy cataclysm bore down on me.

My mother.

She didn’t do it during the wedding, an act that permitted my sister to get married in peace. - What is it?  I’m guessing it refers to her mother’s assault upon her person.  Since the mother is actually not acting, perhaps we could drop “the act that” out of the sentence.

She didn’t do it during the wedding, permitting my sister to get married in peace.

That’s it.  It was technically very sound.  Just needs a bit of content adjustment.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

“Please,” he said, quietly, and this time there was desperation in his voice. “Please, I’m lost and there’s nobody else to help me.”

She crouched down so that her face was level with his. This close she could see the shadows of his eyes, the lashes that clung together with the water. Dark hair close to his skull, the ends skimming the nape of his neck and falling down over his forehead. “What are you?”

“I’m a merman,” he answered.

“Fine. Just so long as we’re clear on that,” she said.

Oh.  Good!  Good, good!  Nice flow, nice tension in the scene.  What we need is a bit more precision in descriptions.

She crouched down so that her face was level with his.

One can’t crouch up.  :)  Also we might be able to nuke “that”

She crouched so her face was level with his.

Moving on,

This close she could see the shadows of his eyes

Shadows of the eyes sounds odd.   Shadows in his eyes?  I’d like more about the eyes.  What color?  Predatory or pleading?  Invisible because lost in the shadows?  Throw us a bone here.

Dark hair close to his skull, the ends skimming the nape of his neck and falling down over his forehead.

Not quite sure about that dark hair close to his skull…  Is it short or just plastered with water? Do we really need the “close”?

Dark hair glistening with moisture, the ends skimming the nape of his neck and falling down over his forehead.

or

Dark hair skimmed the nape of his neck and fell down over his forehead.

The author is almost there.  Just need to dial the detail up a bit to make the writing pop.  He is all wet.  Is that ocean water?  Does he smell like the sea?  Does his skin look odd? The other has drawn a good sketch.  It just need fleshing out.

Optional critique:

If it was me - and this is the part where I take the author’s original style and chuck it out the window - I’d go more direct. We already know she is looking at him and the reader is concentrating on him. We don’t need the second reminder that she is there.

Original:

She crouched down so that her face was level with his. This close she could see the shadows of his eyes, the lashes that clung together with the water.

Revised:

She crouched so her face was level with his.  Shadows hid his eyes.  His long eyelashes clung together with the water.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

“I told you, I told you not to fool around with that girl, Ty. Didn’t I tell him not to fool around with that girl?” I asked Amanda, switching my attention from the boy on the phone to my best friend, who was beside me. She nodded with an evilly gleeful expression on her face.
“Rayvn,” Ty began trying to break into my little rant his voice difficult to hear since he was on speaker phone and the fact that he was whispering didn’t help his clarity. On the plus side it made it easier to ignore him and continue.

Good dialogue.  You can practically hear the speaker in your head.  There ae a couple of clarity issues here.  Let’s look at it sentence by sentence.

“I told you, I told you not to fool around with that girl, Ty. Didn’t I tell him not to fool around with that girl?” I asked Amanda, switching my attention from the boy on the phone to my best friend, who was beside me.

We already know that she is talking to a boy, because his name is Ty and she refers to the speaker as “him”.  But the bigger problem is “switching my attention,” because it gives us a fuzzy image.  Switching one’s attention is hard to picture.  It’s more of an internal process, and it sounds as if Rayvn is explaining to the reader what she is doing.  A very slight touch of telling rather than showing here.

What happens when we switch our attention to someone?  We look at them.

Also, we know very little about Amanda’s position.  She is near the phone and that’s it.  Was doesn’t tell us if she is sitting, standing, reclining, or hanging from the ceiling.

The challenge here is how do we keep all of our information, but get it across smoother.  Check this out.

“I told you, I told you not to fool around with that girl, Ty. Didn’t I tell him not to fool around with that girl?” I glanced at Amanda standing next to me.

My best friend nodded with an evilly gleeful expression on her face.

Evilly gleeful is a kick-butt image, but I’d like to get rid of the adverb.  The common wisdom is that if you need an adverb, you’re probably not using the right verb or the right adjective.  The common wisdom is often wrong, but in this case evilly gives me a pause.  It’s not an adverb that sees frequent use.

We have several options here.

1) We can turn strike the adverb and limit ourselves to a single descriptor:

My best friend nodded with a gleeful expression on her face.

My best friend nodded with an evil expression on her face.

2) We can keep both descriptors but turn one of them into a noun.

My best friend nodded with an expression of evil glee on her face.

or

My best friend nodded, her face a picture of evil glee.

3) We can substitute a single adjective for the two descriptors:

My best friend nodded with a wicked expression on her face.

Any of those will do, depending on the slight variation in meaning.  I’m going with My best friend nodded, her face a picture of evil glee.

“Rayvn,” Ty began trying to break into my little rant his voice difficult to hear since he was on speaker phone and the fact that he was whispering didn’t help his clarity. On the plus side it made it easier to ignore him and continue.

Again, the author is explaining to us what is happening.  We already know that Ty is trying to cut through her rant, because he says her name, trying to get her attention.  The narrative is repeating itself.  I once read a book where the author would make a scene and then proceed to explain in the next scene what took place.  Drove me nuts.  Also some fuzzy punctuation here.

“Rayvn,” Ty whispered.  Whispering into the speaker phone didn’t help his clarity and made him easier to ignore.

We’ve eliminated the need for next sentence.

Before:

“I told you, I told you not to fool around with that girl, Ty. Didn’t I tell him not to fool around with that girl?” I asked Amanda, switching my attention from the boy on the phone to my best friend, who was beside me. She nodded with an evilly gleeful expression on her face.
“Rayvn,” Ty began trying to break into my little rant his voice difficult to hear since he was on speaker phone and the fact that he was whispering didn’t help his clarity. On the plus side it made it easier to ignore him and continue.

After:

“I told you, I told you not to fool around with that girl, Ty. Didn’t I tell him not to fool around with that girl?” I glanced at Amanda standing next to me.  My best friend nodded, her face a picture of evil glee.

“Rayvn,” Ty whispered.  Whispering into a speaker phone didn’t help his clarity and made him easier to ignore.

The author here shows a lot of promise.  A natural dialogue is hard to write.  I’d suggest scaling back on the tendency to explain.  Readers are terribly bright and they prefer to observe the characters and make their own conclusions.  Also, less is more in this case. We all love our turns of phrase.  The fact is, the reason was, he decided and so on.  Often they aren’t as necessary as they appear.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up smack-dab against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled under and around his midsection, and I peered down at him, the sun slanting into the alley at an angle that didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked. I’d have to wait until noon for that, when the sun was directly overhead and shining down into the gap between our shop and the dry cleaners’ store next door, but I doubted the body would still be here by then.

Okay, we’re going to use the camera again.  But this time we’re going to employ it in the middle of the sentence as well

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up smack-dab against the door, right across from the dumpster.- corpse

Coagulating blood had pooled under and around his midsection - blood around corpse

and I peered down at him,  - POV character, (woman, since I don’t know the gender and I have to pick one)

the sun slanting into the alley at an angle that didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.  - sun

I’d have to wait until noon for that, when the sun was directly overhead and shining down into the gap between our shop and the dry cleaners’ store next door,  but I doubted the body would still be here by then. - sun, tomorrow, dry cleaner

If I were the camera man, here is what this movie would look like: we see a corpse slumped against the door, a close up of the blood, a 180 swing to the narrator, then the camera tilts straight up, staring at the sun while we fast forward to tomorrow, a shot of the corpse in noon sunshine, then rewind to the present day.

Do you see the issue?  Right now the director is yelling,” What are you shooting?  Focus on the body!  The body!”

We’ve lost the focal point of the scene, which is the corpse. The corpse raises questions in the mind of the reader: why is he here, why was he killed?  The sun just takes us on a tangent to readers losing interest and we don’t want to go there.  Really, the sun isn’t at all important except for the fact that the corpse is in the shade and isn’t well illuminated. We have to keep the reader concentrating on the issue at hand -  there is a dead dude in the alley.

I’m going to take Steven King’s advice and murder this darling.

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up smack-dab against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled under and around his midsection, and I peered down at him, the sun slanting into the alley at an angle that didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.  I doubted the body would still be here by then.

Let’s go through this sentence by sentence.

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up smack-dab against the door, right across from the dumpster.

Good, evocative, in your face image.  Very nicely done. But too many descriptors - we usually only need one.  Crumpled up is enough here.  It’s a strong descriptor that packs good impact.

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up against the door, right across from the dumpster.

Next,

Coagulating blood had pooled under and around his midsection, and I peered down at him, the sun slanting into the alley at an angle that didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.

There are three thoughts in this sentence: Coagulating blood, Narrator peering down, and the Sun.  That might be too many.  (Also, if the blood is under the body, how can she see it?)

Let’s break this up a bit.  Also it sounds like the angle illuminated, not the sun, so I’d replace that with and.

Coagulating blood had pooled around his midsection.  I peered down at him.  The sun slanted into the alley at an angle and didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.

Let’s put ourselves in the place of the narrator.  We see a corpse covered in blood.  hat’s a strong image.  It supposed to evoke a reaction.  We might feel shock, fear, alarm, boredom, annoyance, happiness, any number of emotions depending on who we are and what the corpse is.

A shop clerk who steps out to empty the garbage and sees a well-dressed man in a business suit laying in a pool of his blood might panic.  If we replace the body with a corpse of a homeless bum the clerk used to shoo off his doorstep, the reaction would be different.  And if the corpse is that of a known thug who used to shake up the shop for protection money, the clerk might go inside and open a bottle of wine to celebrate.

Remember when I prattled on about the character being an emotional compass for the readers?  The readers evaluate the narrative through the reaction of the characters.  Here the reader is presented with an image bound to provoke a strong reaction - a corpse.  It creates tension within the reader.  But the narrator doesn’t react at all, which leaves us adrift.  We don’t know how to react either, and the tension is never released.

This kind of tension tends to create distance between the character and the readers.  Have you read reviews where the critic says, “I just couldn’t connect to the character?” This is it right there.  Maybe there is a reaction in the next paragraph.  But even if there is, it would be too late.

The stronger is the stimulus, the faster the reaction needs to appear.

Fortunately, it’s easily fixed.  We just need to give the reader some sort of clue as to how the character views the scene, what sort of physical and emotional reaction she has to the body.

Sadness:

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled around his midsection.  I peered down at him, laying there, abandoned and alone.  The sun slanted into the alley at an angle and didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.  He must’ve died in a lot of pain, judging by the blood.  I wondered if anybody would miss him.

Indignation:

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled around his midsection.  I peered down at him, clenching my teeth.  Bastards. Not another one.

The sun slanted into the alley at an angle and didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.  I wanted to see his face so I would remember it when those thugs finally got their comeuppance.

Curiosity

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled around his midsection.  I peered down at him.  A third body this month.  What an odd pose.  He was twisted like a crushed coke can.  The sun slanted into the alley at an angle and didn’t illuminate the scene as well as I would have liked.   I could barely see the wound.

(A couple of words here: if the reaction is other than fear and shock, then the narrator must be used to encountering dead bodies, so a couple of words as to why might help forge a connection to the readers.)

Shock

The corpse lay on his back, crumpled up against the door, right across from the dumpster. Coagulating blood had pooled around his midsection.  I peered down at him, my heart hammering against my ribs.  He was dead.  Really really dead.  Oh God.  The sun slanted into the alley at an angle and didn’t illuminate him well.  Maybe he was still alive.

The author of the paragraph is technically proficient and she is able to create strong visceral images.  Now she just needs to forge that connection to the reader.  She needs to dive into the character, take the scene in through her eyes, and let the character’s reactions color the narrative.

I want to be very clear here: this was a well written paragraph.  My edits here do not necessarily improve it.  They are structured in a way that showcases places where the paragraph falls short of the mark.  I actually had to completely change the meaning of the paragraph to demonstrate the issues and I do hate doing that.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

I gave a huge stretch to my fullest. “I thought that was part of the reason this was a good arrangement, Mathew.” I jumped onto his lap. “She’s supposed to be a good breeder type that will make the breeding pleasant.”

Mathew chuckled, “I suppose you would look at it that way. And yes, she is supposed to bear a child from this, but humans look for other things in their relationships too.” He started scratching that delicious spot between my ears and I started purring. “I have lived with only you for too long, Felicity. I crave another human to talk to. I want to discuss human things occasionally with someone who understands.”

Nitpicking:

I thought that was part of the reason this was a good arrangement

This is bugging at me a little bit, because I want to knows the was’s out.

I thought that was part of the reason for the arrangement

I thought that’s why this was a good arrangement

Something along those lines…

Also if the author wanted to, we could do this:

He started scratching that delicious spot between my ears and I started purring.

He scratched that delicious spot between my ears and I purred.

Other than these nitpicks, that it’s good to go!   Sorry I know I’m supposed to be all critical but there ain’t much to criticise.  Is lovely, please carry on

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

Sometimes it really sucked that I knew what kind of evidence the cops looked for. There was no way in hell for me to get away with suffocating her with a pillow anymore than there was a chance of me getting off with poisoning her. Besides she had a cast iron fucking stomach. The woman could eat anything. I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life, and was pretty surprised that she didn’t devour the bones too. How the hell she stayed so thin was beyond me and anyone else who ever saw her chow down.

Oh!  Good paragraph.  I really loved the content and the voice.  Here we have some dude or some woman who is calmly contemplating the best way to nuke somebody and we actually sympathize a bit with this monstrous endeavor.  What’s not to love?

Also the voice reads a touch Southern to me. 

Let’s talk issues.  There is only one that I can see.  Wordiness.  When you read the paragraph, especially out loud, it seems like a real mouthful.  I’m loath to screw with it, because the voice is good, but that’s what I’m here for:

Sometimes it really sucked that I knew what kind of evidence the cops looked for.

There is a shorter way to say this sentence:

Sometimes knowing what kind of evidence the cops looked for really sucked.

Next:

There was no way in hell for me to get away with suffocating her with a pillow anymore than there was a chance of me getting off with poisoning her.

This sentence is throwing the same information at the reader twice in a row.  I’d suggest breaking this sucker in two.  That will eliminate one of there was’s.

There was no way in hell for me to get away with suffocating her with a pillow.   No chance getting off with poisoning her either.

Let’s take it a step further to minimize the echo between the two sentences:

No way in hell I’d get away with suffocating her with a pillow.  No chance getting off with poisoning her either.

Next,

I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life, and was pretty surprised that she didn’t devour the bones too.

Technically there is nothing wrong with this, except for a comma that somehow popped up between the subject and verb:

I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life and was pretty surprised that she didn’t devour the bones too.

This is an I did… was sentence, meaning one verb is of the did variety and the other of the was variety.

For example:

I was bucks up and went to the movies.

or

I’d done it and was angry.

In practice though, every time I see I was… did or I did… was construction, my brain stumbles.  I don’t know if there are hard and fast rules regarding, but I can tell you that proofreaders stumble across those too, both betas and professional editors.  I tend to fix those, but since I can’t give you an actual reason behind it, except for “It juss don’t feel right”, this will go under pet peeve heading.

I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life.   Pretty surprising that she didn’t devour the bones too.

Or in keeping with the voice:

I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life.   A damn wonder she didn’t devour the bones too.

or

So in conclusion:

Sometimes it really sucked that I knew what kind of evidence the cops looked for. There was no way in hell for me to get away with suffocating her with a pillow anymore than there was a chance of me getting off with poisoning her. Besides she had a cast iron fucking stomach. The woman could eat anything. I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life, and was pretty surprised that she didn’t devour the bones too. How the hell she stayed so thin was beyond me and anyone else who ever saw her chow down.

After:

Sometimes knowing what kind of evidence the cops looked for really sucked. No way in hell I’d get away with suffocating her with a pillow.  No chance of getting off with poisoning her, either.  Besides she had a cast iron fucking stomach. The woman could eat anything. I’d never seen anyone eat more ribs in my life.  A damn wonder she didn’t devour the bones too. How the hell she stayed so thin was beyond me and anyone else who ever saw her chow down.

This needs one more edit, purely technical, to weed out the tendency to say things that might be a touch shorter if said the other way, opposite from this longer way to fix the wordy bits.  Other than that, I’d go full blast into query stage, assuming there aren’t other, narrative-wide issues.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Morning,

I can’t believe that I am doing this, I thought and hit Eric’s doorbell. The signals echoed on the other side of the door , but no one opened. I knew that there was probably a logical reason for this, like he was out, but it made me a bit nervous. Since he might be asleep as well, anyone with their wits insane wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den. Contemplating, how many hours that had passed since sunset, I decided he probably was out. Making it.. safer to sneak inside. On the other hand, the safer was relative, I thought and got out my lock picks.

This one might need a bit of work.  The main issue here is lack of coherency.  It’s a stream of consciousness - the writer is putting down her thoughts on paper as they come.  There is a Russian fable where the hero is asked what is the fastest thing in existence.  He answers,  “Thought.  A thought can leap from one end of the world to another in less than a blink.”  In our heads thoughts are tangled into a fast jumbled mess.   Very few of us think in complete sentences all the time.  To get our thoughts on paper so other people can understand them, we have to slow it down a little and be as specific as possible.

Let’s go through it sentence by sentence and fix grammar and punctuation.

I can’t believe that I am doing this, I thought and hit Eric’s doorbell.

That is unnecessary.  Also, this is a character thought, and thoughts tend to be informal, so let’s replace I am with I’m.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought and hit Eric’s doorbell.

She is probably thinking this as she is pushing the bell down.  Also hitting the bell implies aggression and urgency.  She isn’t exactly aggressive.  She is apprehensive.  Let’s try a different verb, more in line with the feelings of the character.

I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought, pushing Eric’s doorbell.

We can take it a step further.  This is where italics come in handy:

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I pushed Eric’s doorbell.

Next

The signals echoed on the other side of the door , but no one opened.

Wrong choice of word here.  Signal can be audio (like whistle) or it can visual.  Signal isn’t specific so the author is giving us a very confusing picture.  Let’s be more specific.  Door bell produces sounds or chimes or rings.  Also the other side of the door is too vague.  Is it an apartment, a house, a converted underground garage, a fallout shelter?  Let’s make it an apartment for the convenience sake.

The chime of the door bell echoed through the apartment, but no one opened.

Let’s look at the second part of this sentence.  No one opened isn’t really an image or a description of the scene.  Let’s put the camera over your character’s shoulder.  What does she see when the bell rings?  A shut door.  Because the door remains shut, the character comes to the conclusion that nobody opened it.

This is an example of telling vs showing.  Break down of show vs tell can be found right here.

It might be best if we let the readers draw that deduction by themselves.  If we give them a shut door, they’ll figure out on their own that nobody is there to open it.

The chime of the door bell echoed through the apartment, but the door remained shut.

Next

I knew that there was probably a logical reason for this, like he was out, but it made me a bit nervous.

Again, it made me nervous is the author telling us the emotional state of the character.  Let’s try to show her being nervous instead.  We have to be specific. Why is it making her nervous?  Is he usually at home at this hour?  Is she expected?  We need thoughts.

Strange.  Eric rarely ventured out.

You are standing before the door.  You ring the door bell.  The door remains shut.  Your next move?  99% of the people would push the bell again.  Maybe the owner was in the bathroom and didn’t hear it.  Maybe the bell is somehow faulty.  Who knows?

Strange.  Eric rarely ventured out.  I rang the bell again.

Okay she rang the bell, nothing happens.  Let’s drop that in there.

Strange.  Eric rarely ventured out.  I rang the bell again. No answer.

Here we can get away with a bit of telling, because we already imprinted the image of the door into the readers’ minds and we’re just reassuring the reader that the picture didn’t change.

Since he might be asleep as well, anyone with their wits insane wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

Door is still closed.  Bummer.  The character now has to figure out why.  The two most likely reasons for this unfortunate problem are Eric is out after all or Eric is asleep.

He might be out after all.  Of course, he could be asleep.

Now we have a bit of the disconnect, so let’s hack off the first part of that sentence:

He might be out after all.  Of course, he could be asleep.  Anyone with their wits insane wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

First, wits don’t go insane.  People do.

So all non-insane persons would sneak into the sleeping vampire den?  That makes no sense.  Here I have to make a logic leap and conclude that the author must’ve wanted to say that only an insane person would dare to sneak into vampire den.

I’d have to be insane to sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

You’d have to be insane to sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

Only an insane person would sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

Anyone with their wits about them wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

Etc.  I like #3, because it makes danger to the character more immediate and it pulls the reader in.

He might be out after all.  Of course, he could be asleep, and you’d have to be insane to sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.

As an aside, I read a comment on one of the previous post which stated that the use of the second person was frowned on.  It depends on how it’s used.  Karin Lowachee’s first book, for example, has a lovely prologue in the second person, which is awesome.

This bit from Magic Bites is often quoted:

When life backs you into a corner and offers you no escape, when your friends, your lover, and your family abandon you, when you’re at the end of your rope, panicked, alone, and losing your mind, you know you’d give anything to make your problems go away. Then, desperate and eager, you will come to Unicorn Lane, seeking salvation in its magics and secrets. You’ll do anything, pay any price. Unicorn Lane will take you in, shroud you in its power, fix your problems, and exact its price. And then you will learn what “anything” really means.

So second person can be used effectively.

In this case, the character is in effect opening a dialogue with the reader:

Character: You’d have to be insane to sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den, right?

Reader :mulls it over:  Yup, you’d have to be a moron.

Exchanges like this help to create sympathy between the pov character and the reader.

Moving on…

Contemplating, how many hours that had passed since sunset, I decided he probably was out.

Extra comma:

Contemplating how many hours that had passed since sunset, I decided he probably was out.

This makes it sound as if contemplating and deciding is simultaneous.  It’s not - first she counts the hours, then she decides that he must be out.  Let’s separate the two.

I contemplated how many hours had passed since sunset.  He probably was out.

I’d like to add another thought here - enough time had passed so he probably isn’t asleep.

I contemplated how many hours had passed since sunset.  Too late for a nap.  He must be out.

I changed it was to must - it makes the sentence read more active and it gives a clearer impression that the poor character is trying to convince herself that it’s perfectly safe to break into bloodsucker’s house because surely, he has to be out somewhere.

Making it.. safer to sneak inside. On the other hand, the safer was relative, I thought and got out my lock picks.

.. puzzles me.  Is it:  Making it… safer to sneak inside?  The Shattner pause here isn’t really necessary.

On the other hand, the safer was relative, I thought and got out my lock picks.

I have trouble with articles, because I’m not a native speaker, but even I know that the before safer has to go.

I’d like to take the radical approach and chop this down its bare bones.  Let the reader figure out that it’s safer if the vamp is out and that safe is relative in this case.

I got out my lock picks.

Before:

I can’t believe that I am doing this, I thought and hit Eric’s doorbell. The signals echoed on the other side of the door , but no one opened. I knew that there was probably a logical reason for this, like he was out, but it made me a bit nervous. Since he might be asleep as well, anyone with their wits insane wouldn’t sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den. Contemplating, how many hours that had passed since sunset, I decided he probably was out. Making it.. safer to sneak inside. On the other hand, the safer was relative, I thought and got out my lock picks.

After

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I pushed Eric’s doorbell.  The chime of the door bell echoed through the apartment, but the door remained shut.  Strange.  Eric rarely ventured out.

I rang the bell again. No answer.

He might be out after all.  Of course, he could be asleep and you’d have to be insane to sneak into a sleeping vampire’s den.  I contemplated how many hours had passed since sunset.  Too late for a nap.  He must be out. I got out my lockpicks.

In conclusion, a little bit of advice:  use the camera.  Put it over the character’s shoulder.  And this might sound odd, but I’d try to keep sentences short in the first draft, getting used to writing one thought per sentence. 

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

“There are a great many variables in that sentence,” Steve replied, lowering his voice as Darlene came to their table with two more shots of Jack Daniels and set them down.

“Slow it down a little, Zeke,” Darlene said through a sigh. “It’s not that late, and you’re already on your second round. I don’t want to have to throw you out. I don’t see how you drink like you do and still stay alive.”

“Friends in high places, darlin’.” Zeke winked at the bartender. “Uh, ‘Darlene’. Sorry. I’ll get that right someday.”

This is very clean and technically sound.  It could’ve come out of any published book.  That said, I have a couple of comment issues.

It’s not that late, and you’re already on your second round.

They’re drinking shots.  Second round is child’s play.   Back when I drank regularly, I could put away 3-4 shots of vodka in rapid succession, like water and back then I weighed a lot less.  (In fact, I once tested the strength of Gordon’s resolve that way - I’d have to be very drunk to tell that story.)  I’d up it to third of fourth round.

“Friends in high places, darlin’.” Zeke winked at the bartender. “Uh, ‘Darlene’. Sorry. I’ll get that right someday.”

The play on name kinda fell flat on me.  It might be just a glass of Boone’s farm in my hand.

Other than that, I liked the dialog and Zeke seems like a fun fellow.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

I wasn’t going to do another one, but this one is very good.

The angel braced himself on a black-iron lamppost, opened his mouth, and expelled a long stream of light into the gutter.

The scent of roses accompanied the light, filling Carsten’s head as she stepped closer. The runoff from the meat pie shop, just slopped out two doors down, streamed in behind, taking the phosphorescence and its aroma of sanctity into the storm drain. A glow emanated from the drain for several minutes after the lightstream disappeared, bathing the worn and grimy gray cobbles of the street and sidewalk a brilliant gold-white.

The angel hunched over to eject more illumination and Carsten knew Shackle the Prophet had dispatched her to the correct place. This angel was in the process of falling.

I really like this.  Did I read this before?  I seem to recall war and fallen angels and steampunk setting.  I might be losing my mind.

Two nits, and I am shutting up:

The runoff from the meat pie shop, just slopped out two doors down, streamed in behind, taking the phosphorescence and its aroma of sanctity into the storm drain.

Not quiet as clear as it could be.  streamed in behind what or whom?

The runoff from the meat pie shop, just slopped out two doors down, streamed in behind the glowing liquid, taking the phosphorescence and its aroma of sanctity into the storm drain.

If it’s not a liquid, then maybe behind the glow?

A glow emanated from the drain for several minutes after the lightstream disappeared, bathing the worn and grimy gray cobbles of the street and sidewalk a brilliant gold-white.

This implies that she is standing there for several minutes while the reader is twidling their thumbs. I’d cut it to:

A glow emanated from the drain after the lightstream disappeared, bathing the worn and grimy gray cobbles of the street and sidewalk a brilliant gold-white.

Are you submitting this?  Is this done?

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

An hour before my gallery’s new exhibit was due to open, my nose began to itch. I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I was straightening on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over. I sneezed again, then a third time. It was my body’s way of warning me a premonition was coming. I swayed a bit on my three inch heels as the vision seeped into my brain, then straightened and pulled a tissue out of my pocket. “Shoot, duty calls. I’ve got to go, Oscar. Cover the opening for me, okay?”

This is a good paragraph, clear, to the point, with an excellent hook.  It moves the reader from mundane act of sneezing to something mystic, a premonition.  The author employed one of the most effective ways to hook the reader:  showing importance of an act but not explain why.    If she just came out and said, “I have an important premonition!”, I’d be underwhelmed.  But she never acknowledges that her premonition is valuable.   She just abandons an opening of the new exhibit.  I want to know what the premonition is.  I want to know why it trumps the opening of the new exhibit.

Very nicely done.

What I’m going to pick on here is the sentence structure.  Check this out.

An hour before my gallery’s new exhibit was due to open, my nose began to itch. I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I was straightening on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over. I sneezed again, then a third time. It was my body’s way of warning me a premonition was coming. I swayed a bit on my three inch heels as the vision seeped into my brain, then straightened and pulled a tissue out of my pocket. “Shoot, duty calls. I’ve got to go, Oscar. Cover the opening for me, okay?”

As I mentioned before, was isn’t a bad verb.

It was one of those nights when the sky came down and wrapped itself around the world. The rain clawed at the windows of the bar like an angry cat and tried to sneak in every time some drunk lurched in the door. The place reeked of stale beer and soggy men with enough cheap perfume thrown in to make you sick.

THE BIG KILL

Mickey Spillane was the man. 

But back to our paragraph.  Most writers tend to overuse was, because it’s a quick and easy way to get the point across.  But if we sprinkle it too liberally, was tends to bog down the flow of the narrative.   Usually if I write a sentence with was in it, I take a couple of seconds to see if I can flip it to eliminate was.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes I end up with nonsense.

An hour before my gallery’s new exhibit was due to open, my nose began to itch.

An hour before the opening of my gallery’s new exhibit, my nose began to itch.

Next

I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I was straightening on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over. - In this case was indicates the sequence of events: she is in the middle of the act when she sneezes.  We can flip this, but the result may not be necessarily better.

I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I straightened on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over.   - She isn’t precisely in the act of straightening here, so the author has to decide whether the smoother read is worth the slight change in the scene.

Next

It was my body’s way of warning me a premonition was coming. - variety of choices here.

My body warned me a premonition was coming. - most straight forward.

My body’s warning: a premonition was coming

My body warning me.  A premonition was coming.  - Kate sentence O_o  If I took it all the way into Kate territory:   My body warning me.  In a few moments a premonition would hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering my evening plans beyond repair.  Figured.

My body warned me of an imminent premonition.

And so on.

Before:

An hour before my gallery’s new exhibit was due to open, my nose began to itch. I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I was straightening on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over. I sneezed again, then a third time. It was my body’s way of warning me a premonition was coming. I swayed a bit on my three inch heels as the vision seeped into my brain, then straightened and pulled a tissue out of my pocket. “Shoot, duty calls. I’ve got to go, Oscar. Cover the opening for me, okay?”

After:

An hour before the opening of my gallery’s new exhibit, my nose began to itch. I sneezed less than a foot from the painting I straightened on the wall, almost hitting it with my head as I doubled over. I sneezed again, then a third time. My body warned me a premonition was coming.  I swayed a bit on my three inch heels as the vision seeped into my brain, then straightened and pulled a tissue out of my pocket. “Shoot, duty calls. I’ve got to go, Oscar. Cover the opening for me, okay?”

Minimal corrections - it just reads a touch faster.

Optional correction:

I swayed a bit on my three inch heels as the vision seeped into my brain, then straightened and pulled a tissue out of my pocket.

Feels like there should be something snappier than straightened here, since there is another straightened above.   Also the stylist in me wants to flip it into:

The vision seeped into my brain.  I swayed a bit on my three inch heels, caught myself, and pulled a tissue out of my pocket.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

Next to canvas, Kismet loved skin to paint on. The texture of each piece changed with the person, sometimes slick and smooth, other times a rough burlap shaved clean with a few scrapes of a razor. His boss preferred virgin white, enraptured by the colours’ intensity. Kismet didn’t care either way. The ink was the challenge.

The way skin moved was magical, a soft flexible surface that worked against him. It slipped under Kismet’s fingers, rolling around sometimes as he chased down lines of ink. Humming, he crouched closer, fixing his thumb against the rise of the young woman’s muscle.

Love the voice.  Love, love.  Very distinct and accented with unique details.  The voice is so strong, I’m almost afraid to mess with it.

Some minor clarity issues and tweaks:

The texture of each piece changed with the person, sometimes slick and smooth, other times a rough burlap shaved clean with a few scrapes of a razor.

I’m tempted to change other time to sometimes, to keep the symmetry:

The texture of each piece changed with the person, sometimes slick and smooth, sometimes a rough burlap shaved clean with a few scrapes of a razor.

Next

His boss preferred virgin white, enraptured by the colours’ intensity.

Does enraptured refer to the boss or the white?  If it’s the boss, might help to tweak it to:

His boss, enraptured by the colours’ intensity, preferred virgin white.

Next:

The ink was the challenge.

That the makes it seem as if there should be something after:

The ink was the challenge, not the skin color.

or perhaps

The ink was his challenge.

Moving on:

The way skin moved was magical, a soft flexible surface that worked against him.

I’m of two minds about this sentence.  On one hand, it’s purty.  But it reads disjointed.  The first part of the sentence centers on the way skin moves, the second, on the skin itself.  They don’t quite work together.  I’d play a bit with this.

The way skin moved was magical.   A soft flexible surface, it worked against him, slipping under Kismet’s fingers, rolling around sometimes as he chased down lines of ink.

Or

The way skin moved was magical.  It slipped under Kismet’s fingers, rolling around sometimes as he chased down lines of ink.

Or

The way skin moved was magical.   A soft flexible surface, it slipped under Kismet’s fingers, rolling around sometimes as he chased down lines of ink.

That’s it.

A distinct voice like this is relatively rare. An interesting thing happens when you read this out loud - it reads very smoothly and you almost unconsciously fall into the storyteller voice.

My advice is: put butt in chair, make words happen.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Evening,

My fingers drummed on the seat, and my knees jittered. I’d been antsy for a while—three hours in a confined space with John had that effect on me—but after seeing the first lightning bolt, now I was downright twitchy.

Trying not to look at the sky, I glanced at John instead. He didn’t seem to have noticed my behavior, unless he was just ignoring me. Or maybe he had issues of his own.

The more I fidgeted, the more my father cemented into place. His hands were locked on the steering wheel, his arms rigid. He stared at the road, his eyes fixed yet spacey at the same time. I’d seen livelier expressions on statues.

Good paragraph!  Clean, to the point, easy to read.  Onward with hacking.

My fingers drummed on the seat, and my knees jittered. I’d been antsy for a while—three hours in a confined space with John had that effect on me—but after seeing the first lightning bolt, now I was downright twitchy.

Not sure where that now came from. 

Let do the camera trick again.  I already shown how it works, so let’s just walk through the paragraph with it.  We’re behind the camera shooting a movie.

My fingers drummed on the seat, and my knees jittered.  - image of the trembling knees on a seat

I’d been antsy for a while—three hours in a confined space with John had that effect on me—but after seeing the first lightning bolt,  I was downright twitchy.  - and that’s where we grind to a halt.  Confined space is a fuzzy image.  If you poll 10 people, you’ll get 10 different answers.   Can she see the lightning?  Or can she just hear the thunderbolt?  Where is she?

By now I have figured out that she is in a car, because I read the whole paragraph, but I still don’t know if front seat or back seat.  Sometimes not showing where the character is can be the point of the paragraph.

He awoke alone in darkness.  He groaned and pushed himself from the rough cold floor.  His head hurt.  He touched his temple and felt wet slickness under his fingers.

But unless you have to hide the location from a reader, it’s best to get it out in the open.

I’d been antsy for a while—three hours in a  car next to John had that effect on me—but after seeing the first lightning bolt, I was downright twitchy.

Tiny change.

Trying not to look at the sky, I glanced at John instead. - the camera pans to John.

He didn’t seem to have noticed my behavior, unless he was just ignoring me. Or maybe he had issues of his own.  - what leads her to conclude that John didn’t notice her anxiety.  You’re looking through the camera.  What do you see?  Is John a middle-aged man?  Is he a teenage boy?  Is he staring absentmindedly out of the window?  Show us what you see.

The more I fidgeted, the more my father cemented into place. His hands were locked on the steering wheel, his arms rigid. He stared at the road, his eyes fixed yet spacey at the same time. I’d seen livelier expressions on statues. - is John and her father the same person?

I am confused.   See, I thought John was a romantic interest and she was antsy because she had a girlie crush.  And now you’re asking me to switch John to father and my reaction is an immediate ew.  Dad + romantic feeling = NO.

As I have said before, we confuse the readers at our peril. You can challenge the readers intellectually.  You can throw them an emotional curveball.  But don’t confuse them.  Because that way lay dragons.  :makes scary noises:

If John and her father are the same person, we have a very easy fix.  Check this out:

Trying not to look at the sky, I glanced at John instead. My father didn’t seem to have noticed my behavior, unless he was just ignoring me. Or maybe he had issues of his own.

The more I fidgeted, the more my father cemented into place. His hands were locked on the steering wheel, his arms rigid. He stared at the road, his eyes fixed yet spacey at the same time. I’d seen livelier expressions on statues.

Already more clear.  Let’s take it a step further and fix the camera view. Also, I’m stumbling over that cemented.  The most common usage for the verb to describe the action of cementing something.  I’d tweak it to cemented himself.  Also that at the same time is not really necessary.

Trying not to look at the sky, I glanced at John instead. My father continued to watch the road, his face impassive.  He didn’t seem to have noticed my anxiety, unless he was just ignoring me. Or maybe he had issues of his own.

The more I fidgeted, the more my father cemented himself into place. His hands were locked on the steering wheel, his arms rigid. He stared at the road, his eyes fixed yet spacey. I’d seen livelier expressions on statues.

If John isn’t her dad, then some differentiation is in order.

Trying not to look at the sky, I glanced at John instead.  He sat in the passenger seat, his eyes distant.  Neither he, nor my father behind the wheel seemed to have noticed my behavior, unless they both simply ignored me. Or maybe they had issues of their own.

As an aside, once you hang the ID tag on the character, it usually helps to stick to it.  Frex, if I have a character named Jim, and I refer to him as Jim, and then spontaneously switch to James Shrapshire, people will scream bloody murder.  Any time the reader stops and has to reread the paragraph, not so they can think about it, but because the narrative is unclear, we run the risk of losing that reader.

Fix it, fix it, fit it!  It’s good otherwise.  Just pay attention to your camera, and make sure that the reader sees what you see in your head.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.

Once again, don’t take this as a gospel.  I’m often wrong and often in doubt.

It started as a feeling of unease as Janie left her apartment. She wanted to run back inside, but her feet wouldn’t move, at least not in that direction. Like a caterpillar who has completed the transformation to butterfly, she had to leave the safety of home. The Universe has rules that must be obeyed, and they commanded her to put one foot in front of the other. That did nothing to quiet the feeling that was slowly and steadily growing until it found a resting spot in her stomach. She knew one thing.

I’m being followed.

This is one of those rare cases where my problem with what is written overshadows how it’s written.  I’ve approached this paragraph several times in the past three days hoping I can figure out how to deal with it without hacking it all to pieces and hurting feelings, and I admit defeat.

The author has the skills to pull off the narrative - she’s trying to demonstrate the devolution of Janie’s emotional state, which shows understanding of the story telling.  She can make good sentences.  But together they fail to combine into a readable narrative.

I’m afraid I will be harsh with this critique. This is a fair warning, you may not want to read the rest.  Being hit on what your wrote always hurts more than being hit on how you wrote it.

Let’s take it sentence by sentence:

It started as a feeling of unease as Janie left her apartment.

It in this case refers to Janie’s emotional state.  We already know that Janie’s feeling unease, so It really accomplishes no purpose in this sentence.  Let’s get rid of it.

A feeling of unease started as Janie left her apartment.

We can also take a different route.  If Janie started feeling uneasy, she must’ve progressed to a state of greater emotional distress, which is likely panic.  We can try:

Janie’s panic started as a feeling of unease, when she left her apartment.

Next,

She wanted to run back inside, but her feet wouldn’t move, at least not in that direction.

No issues.

Moving on,

Like a caterpillar who has completed the transformation to butterfly, she had to leave the safety of home.

This is the first stumbling block for me.  The previous two sentences create a feeling of being forced.  We imagine that Janie doesn’t want to leave the apartment, that she has to do so under duress.  The metaphor of the caterpillar to butterfly implies rebirth.  Janie isn’t being reborn, she’s just scared.  It’s also too dramatic to describe the simple act of leaving the apartment.

If we remove the metaphor, the sentence becomes redundant: she had to leave the safety of her home.  We already know she does so.  I’m afraid I’m unable to revise sentence #3 to my satisfaction, so I am excising it.

The Universe has rules that must be obeyed, and they commanded her to put one foot in front of the other.

The obvious question is, what rules?   This seems like an overly grandiose way to describe a very simple act.  Universal laws can be physical, or they can refer to acts of fate.  Is she so important that fate itself is commanding her to put one foot after another?

Do you remember when I yammered a while back that POV character is an emotional compass, a window of sorts through which the reader views the narrative?  This narrative creates an impression that the POV character is so full of herself, that she believes the act of leaving her apartment is so significant, it must’ve been dictated and observed by Universe.  I’m beginning to actively dislike the POV character.

I wouldn’t have a problem if the voice is sardonic:

To be idle is a short road to death and to be diligent is a way of life.  That, according to Buddha, was one of the primary laws of the Universe, a view Janie had always shared.  She couldn’t afford to linger.  If she had any hope of living to see the sunset, she had to get moving and fast.

But the voice isn’t sardonic.  It just assigns cosmic significance to a rather mundane act. More, when taken in conjunction with the following sentence, it fails to make sense.

The Universe has rules that must be obeyed, and they commanded her to put one foot in front of the other. That did nothing to quiet the feeling that was slowly and steadily growing until it found a resting spot in her stomach.

I’m not quite sure what the sentences mean together.  Is the fact that rules must be obeyed does nothing to quiet the feeling?  Or putting one foot before the other?

I vote for cutting the Universe all together.  It leaves me with

That did nothing to quiet the feeling that was slowly and steadily growing until it found a resting spot in her stomach.

So the feeling of unease slowly and steadily grew until it rested in her stomach?  Why her stomach?  It doesn’t quite make sense.  A person in the state of heightened anxiety typically doesn’t describe themslves as being at rest quite the opposite: they are nervous, jumpy, roiling with emotion.

I’m guessing that the author is aiming for showing increased anxiety.  The easiest route to this is through physical symptoms of anxiety.

Her pulse raced.  Her hands turned cold and she shivered despite the heat.  Her mouth had gone dry.  Her unease blossomed into full blown panic.

Final sentences:

She knew one thing.

I’m being followed.

That last one came out of nowhere.  How does she know she is being followed?  Does she sense her hunter?  Does she feel his mind, catch his scent, glimpse him behind her?  Does she have an expectation of being followed?  Her deduction has no basis. I’m going to take the short way out and convert this to:

She knew she would be followed.

Before:

It started as a feeling of unease as Janie left her apartment. She wanted to run back inside, but her feet wouldn’t move, at least not in that direction. Like a caterpillar who has completed the transformation to butterfly, she had to leave the safety of home. The Universe has rules that must be obeyed, and they commanded her to put one foot in front of the other. That did nothing to quiet the feeling that was slowly and steadily growing until it found a resting spot in her stomach. She knew one thing.

I’m being followed.

After:

A feeling of unease started as Janie left her apartment.  She wanted to run back inside, but her feet wouldn’t move, at least not in that direction.  Her pulse raced.  Her hands turned cold and she shivered despite the heat.  Her mouth had gone dry.  Her unease blossomed into full blown panic.

She knew she would be followed.

My after snippet is not so much an improvement as an entirely new paragraph.  There was simply too much over the top description.

#

Update: after thinking about this, I’m not 100% comfortable with my deduction as to the cause of the paragraph’s failure so I took the part following the above out.  Basically, I’m not sure and it feels wrong to say something if I’m not reasonably ready to stand behind it.

Mirrored from One Crazy Dame. Comment here or there.