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. 

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.

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.

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!

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.

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 .  Think of each paragraph as a tiny story delivering a clear message.

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.

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.

“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.

“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.