Red Pencil Thursday with Barbara Britton

When Barbara Britton offered to be part of Red Pencil Thursday she presented a unique opportunity for us. Barbara wrote me saying she has "completed a YA historical with romantic elements. I had an opening which had received good comments from contests. When I won an agent critique, the agent thought the opening opened way too fast--at the inciting incident--and I should slow it down. I did slow the opening down, but now I wonder if it's a sleeper."

This offer to revise happens more often than you might think. If an editor or agent makes specific suggestions and invites you to resend, you've received what's known as "a good rejection." It's really an offer to revise and resubmit. But you've invested a great deal in the current version. So what's a writer to do? And what guarantee do you have that the new version will be an improvement?

Before I was published, I revised the opening to Maidensong ( my debut Diana Groe title). As an experiment, I sent out the two different versions to a bunch of different contests. (Always save the first version. You never know if you'll decide to keep it.) Somehow the same person was judging two of those contests and hated the 2nd version (she'd given the 1st version extremely high marks previously and thought I'd "bastardized" the story). There was more than a 50 point difference between her scores and the other two judges. As it turned out, the 2nd version is the one that eventually sold.

So today, we're taking a look at two versions of the same story. In order to make it easier to read, I'll wait to comment until the end of the 2nd version. Barbara's responses are in purple.


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Josephine Nimetz had been told death would be peaceful. It would most likely happen when she slept, and the bright light she traveled into would make it seem like Juneau in mid-June. But as she stared into the enraged eyes of her father, his calloused hands taut to her throat, the sour stench of whiskey bathing her face, she knew it had all been a lie.

“Where’s the money, Josephine?” He curled his daughter’s gingham collar into his fists. “Mrs. Chambers pays you and your ma fourteen dollars for those fancy dresses.”

Her petite fingers clawed at his hands, easing the pressure on her neck. She had recently stitched rick rack to her collar and she’d be darned if she was going to reattach it. Gasping for air, she tried to defend herself. “We forgot the gloves. It was only gloves. I didn’t deliver the dresses. I swear!”

Her father seized her neck again, lifting her off the ground. Her feet strained for the security of mudded pine needles. “Liar! I need that money.”

“But your pay from the mine? You got paid.”

“Don’t you hold out on me girl.” His thick hands squeezed her voice box. “That pay’s gone.”

She stared into the familiar hazel eyes of her father, now bloodshot and bulging. In all her fifteen years she had never seen them so crazed.

“People are coming.”

She did not recognize the man’s voice but she welcomed his announcement.

Her father released her neck as the stranger bolted through the ancient pines. A burning radiated down her neck-- the path of one ragged fingernail gouging her skin. The sound of cloth tearing filled her ears as batting ripped free from her collar. She fell backwards, propelled by her father’s haste to get away. Her head struck against a

And here's what's behind Door Number Two:


Juneau, Alaska
September, 1918

Josephine Nimetz didn’t take health for granted as she wrapped her petite fingers around her mother’s swollen knuckles. She eased the stiff hand against a tea cup and made sure her mother supported the cup before letting go. The cup already had one chip. Mint vapors perked up Josephine’s senses. It had been a long morning at the Singer sewing machine.

“I’m off to the Chambers’ estate,” Josephine said. “It will be a nice walk now that the sun has returned.”

“I thought you delivered Mrs. Chambers’ gown yesterday?” Mrs. Nimetz blew on the tea before taking a sip.

“Yes, but Ann forgot the gloves and embroidered handkerchief. I don’t want any complaints from our best customer”

“Your sister can’t seem to think about anything these days. Anything, that is, except men.”

Josephine grinned. Ann--her oldest sister at twenty-- was intent on marrying someone educated and wealthy. Not a small feat when most of the men in Juneau were sportsmen, lumberjacks, miners, or sailors. At one month shy of sixteen, Josephine preferred to focus on the family tailoring business and her mother’s welfare.

Josephine grabbed a shawl and the small glove box before heading outside. Her sealskin boots scuffed along the planked walkway in front of the tiny houses that looked out over Gastineau Channel. A steamer and fishing boats filled the small port dwarfed by mountains lined with evergreen trees. The breeze off the channel lifted her long brunette hair from her shoulders. Her cheeks tingled in the tepid air.

Trudging past the church and up the hill toward Juneau’s elaborate homes, she noticed Widow Gilbertsen’s pristine saltbox, vacant, curtains drawn. The widow had traveled to Nova Scotia to visit family after her husband died. Josephine had helped the elderly couple during Mr. Gilbertsen’s

Wow. It's like two completely different stories. In version 1, the inciting incident really jerks the story into high gear, but do we have enough emotional investment in the heroine to care sufficiently? I'm going to propose a compromise. You should go with a third version.

I’m ready to make this opening the best it can be. I value your input.
That's a beautiful, teachable attitude. If we become rigid and refuse to revise, we have earned the right not to grow.

Introduce Josephine on her way out the door to deliver the gloves, promising to fix tea for her ailing mother as soon as she returns. We'll like her for her compassion. Give her a sense of urgency. Hint that her father has made trouble or is threatening to make trouble for them. Oh, please let him be her stepfather! It's hard to imagine a father strangling his own child. Remember you want your readers to slip into the heroine's shoes. Don't make them pinch so badly, the reader will yank them off before they've had a chance to care about her.

Making him a stepfather is an easy change. He’s a father desperate from bad gambling debts and in desperation, becomes too rough. He causes Josephine to fall and injure her head, and be taken to the hero’s home.

Oh, the father's way beyond rough and well into abusive. If you want him to be desperate instead of evil, there are ways to make the confrontation and subsequent injury more accidental. Grabbing her and twisting her arm or shoving her are bad, but they aren't life-threatening. And those actions say desperate to me. Having him strangle her puts him beyond the pale.

Your sense of place is much stronger in the 2nd version, but don't dwell on non-essentials. Will the widow Gilbertson play a role in the story? Cut her if not. Only describe what your heroine would notice. Love the sealskin boots, but she wouldn't think of her own hair as brunette or her fingers as petite. Tepid means "luke warm." Not conducive to tingling cheeks. You might want to let us know the heroine's age, but it's not necessary to have her sister's yet.

The Gilbertsens were added here at the recommendation of the critiquing agent. She reasoned if Josephine had experience taking care of an ailing person it would help spare her reputation when she lives with, and cares for, the sick veteran.
You’re right about the hair and fingers…oops!

I wouldn't add the bit about the Gilbertsens until its needed. Certainly not right up front.

She needs to meet her father fairly quickly in this third version, before you've spent 500 words. And he might bring up the other sister's fixation on men. How did he come to this awful state? Do you plan on redeeming him during the story? Redemption stories are not limited to inspirational fiction. Focus on the heroine's emotions about him and you'll pull us in close. No matter how bad a man is, his daughter wants to love him, whether it's healthy for her to or not. You shouldn't go into backstory here, but you should know if there were happier times in their shared past. If the story is about redemption or about breaking away from a toxic relationship, that will change how you portray this encounter.

Mines in Alaska were filled with gambling and drinking. Too many men, too much time. Her father works at a gold mine. I try to redeem the father through Josephine’s memories of happier times. She also defends her father when the veteran puts her father down. Ultimately, taking care of the veteran because of the incident with her father, brings Josephine a better life.

You can't redeem him without a change on his part. This isn't theology where grace is free and undeserved. This is fiction and readers demand that the scales of justice balance. If the father is to be redeemed, he needs to change and ask forgiveness of his family. Maybe injuring his daughter is the first step to realizing he's hit bottom.

In Verdi's opera OTHELLO, Desdemona sings an entire aria after her husband has strangled her. Readers are not as forgiving of logic holes as opera buffs. Be careful not to have the heroine talking while she's being strangled, if you stick with that. And if her father has his hands on her throat, rick rack is going to be the last thing on her mind. When you can't breathe, all that matters is your next breath.

You’re right—lose the rick rack.

A revision is still in order here. I know this probably isn't what you wanted to hear, but welcome to the world of the writer. Our business is to play with the details we choose to share to shape the story till it tells the tale we intend. I think you need to find common ground between your two versions, to cherrypick the best of both and come up with a stronger third path.

Thank you, Emily. I have a clearer picture now of what I need to do to flesh this out. One of the reasons I like Red Pencil Thursdays is you give such good feedback and it improves our writing skills. I’m thrilled you picked me and am grateful for your expertise. Thanks for helping me solve my dilemma.

Because you're willing to do the revision work, you're solving your own dilemma.

Barbara lives in Wisconsin with her husband and two teenage sons. When not writing young adult manuscripts, she coordinates high school concessions and works with youth.
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Now it's your turn to add your comments to our online critique session. I know Barbara will appreciate your suggestions and encouragement.

Red Pencil Thursday with Anne Stratton

Well, it's Red Pencil Thursday, and I'm happy to say we have a volunteer. Please welcome Anne Stratton. Unfortunately, I need to apologize to her right off the get-go. I didn't send her critique back early enough to give her time to send back responses. If they come in during the day, I will add them. But I didn't want to make everyone else wait any longer for this engaging beginning.

My comments are in red. If Anne sends in her comments today, they'll be in purple. Please feel free to add your comments at the end of the post.

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For Love or Money
Titles are not subject to copyright. It's a good strategy to use a familiar phrase for a title, but I usually check to see if there is another book already using that phrase. I search it on Amazon and just see what's out there. If it's not being used for the same type of book I write, it's fair game.

Chapter One

January 2
Suburban Milwaukee, Wisconsin
It's not unusual to see a date and setting for historicals, but I don't recall seeing it for contemporaries. I'd rather see you show us that it's the dead of winter in the upper midwest.

The summer night ten-year-old Kate Harvey got caught breaking into her neighbor’s home, she got off easy. Twenty years later, however, that wouldn’t be the case.
Great opening. In 2 sentences, we know a good deal about your heroine. She's got a history of troublemaking, she's 30 years old and still a risk taker.

Another truth came to Kate as she stood in snow up to her calves, inhaling air that made her lungs ache: it was not as much fun breaking into houses in the winter. Waiting for the man on the other side of the bay window to leave was screwing up her plan. Luckily, the guy couldn’t possibly see her huddled in the snow.
The first sentence in this paragraph is a little awkward. How about...
As she stood in snow up to her calves, inhaling air that made her lungs ache, she realized it was not as much fun breaking into houses in the winter.

She knows this guy's name. Why not name him here?

Why hadn’t the jerk left yet?

She checked the time on her cell phone--ten of seven already. According to Jennifer the know-it-all at the office, Chesterton was supposed to meet his wife at the country club at six-thirty. A second later, as if he’d read her mind, he turned and disappeared from view.
I'd break the first sentence up into two. Put a period after phone and let Ten of seven already stand on its own. You can also tighten Jennifer the know-it-all at the office to Jennifer, the office know-it-all.

Time for her to move. A gust off Lake Michigan spit snow into her face as she edged around the patio. A light glowed from the kitchen windows and blinked off again.

Cut for her in the first sentence and you'll create a deeper POV, placing us firmly in Kate's head. If you cut A from the last sentence, it doesn't change the meaning and you won't have consecutive sentences beginning with A.

BRRRR! Love A gust off Lake Michigan. This gives me great sensory detail and a better sense of place than telling me Suburban Milwaukee at the beginning.

He must be entering the garage--good news. The instant she heard the car backing out, she bolted toward the rear porch and squatted against the wood siding. The car rumbled down the driveway, the overhead garage door hummed again and she nipped around a pillar to stick her foot beneath the descending door.
Again, ditch the -- for a period and separate those two thoughts. I'm a little confused about the layout of the place. Usually a garage door faces the street and she's in the rear of the structure. Wouldn't it make more sense for her to be in the side yard, pressed up against the garage? What keeps Chesterton from seeing her? I always watch to make sure my garage door goes down and stays down.

Her heart kicked up. The old rush of adrenalin made her smile. She’d almost forgotten the thrill of testing her courage.
I think you mean heartrate instead of heart. Is it testing her courage or breaking the rules that gets her going?

The door continued for a second and then bounced back up, revealing a sleek black Corvette. Kate sprinted to the kitchen door and punched the button to close the overhead door behind her. The door continued to what? Crush her foot? Making a whirring noise? Sleek black Corvette tells us Chesterton's got money and maybe a mid-life crisis. Good detail. She knows a lot about this house if she knows the door leading into the garage.

Her hand shook as she flipped open the security system box next to the back door. If she didn’t get the numbers right, the whole caper would be over and she’d have to figure out another way into that house.
She doesn't seem the type to have a shaking hand, or if she did, she'd at least mentally scold herself over it. Here's your chance to sneak in a hook about what she's after in the house. Not the whole story, just a tease. "The incriminating papers", "the jewelry that should have been hers" , "the evident to prove someone's innocence"--something to justify the risk otherwise we may stop identifying with her. Thrill seekers are interesting, but we also tend to judge them as not terribly bright. We want our heroine to be smart, so a good reason, or the hint of one, to justify her actions would be helpful here.

She pointed her gloved finger at the first digit of what she hoped was the pass code. The address of the house was 6950. Since she knew the code had four digits. She was betting on the address. If that didn’t work, she’d try the date of the Chestertons’ wedding, October 15.

See? I knew she was smart. I just want to know there's a valid reason for her breaking and entering.

She inhaled and punched in the six, then the nine, the five and the zero, and pressed “off.”

Nothing happened. Had she guessed wrong? “Six, nine, five, zero.” Her whimper echoed off the concrete floor. She tried the four numbers again, pressed off. Silently the red light faded. She took a breath.

I'd cut "Had she guessed wrong?" It smacks of author intrusion, telling the reader what might have happened when we could have figured that one out. Since she hits the same numbers, you might have her wonder if she didn't punch them hard enough, tug off her glove with her teeth and jab the numbers again with her bare knuckle to avoid leaving a fingerprint. Also, she doesn't strike me as the whimpering type.

Now all Kate needed was for the entrance door to be unlocked. The knob turned. She was in! She pulled her flashlight from her coat pocket, turned it on, placed it on the floor, shed her leather gloves and shoved them into one pocket. From her other coat pocket she pulled out her shoe covers and slipped them over her boots.

Instead of entrance door, would it be interior door that leads from the garage into the house? Also, if she's so careful about covering her shoes, I think she'd leave the gloves on (or put them back on if you take my previous suggestion) to avoid leaving fingerprints.

You've definitely got me wondering what's going to happen, Anne. Good job! Thanks for letting me take a look at your work.

A. Y. Stratton Bio

Free-lance columnist Anne Youngclaus Stratton, also known as A. Y. Stratton, had been writing for Milwaukee-area magazines and newspapers for more than fifteen years, when she finally accomplished her life-long goal. Buried Heart, a romantic suspense novel set in Milwaukee and in Mayan ruins deep in the rain forest, was published by The Wild Rose Press in October, 2009.

A. Y. and her husband live in suburban Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The idea for her debut novel occurred to her when she and her husband were on a tour of Mayan ruins.

For more information about A. Y. Stratton, please visit her web site, http://www.aystratton.com/. You can also by her BURIED HEART at Amazon.

Red Pencil Thursday with Kimberly Meyer

It's Thursday and my red pencil is all sharpened up. Our guest/volunteer/victim today is Kimberly Meyer, YA paranormal author. I just love getting to read snippets of so many different kinds of romance and after checking out Kimberly's offering, I'll warn you that you're in for a treat. She's a terrible tease.

And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

My comments are in red, Kimberly's responses in purple. I hope you'll add your suggestions and encouragements at the end of this post.
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“It wasn’t like I meant to kill him,” I protested to the Superiors sitting side by side before me. “He just… flung himself at my knife.”
Boy, if homocide detectives had a nickel for every time they heard that one. Actually, I like this opening. I can almost hear her whine "I get blamed for everything I do."
Thanks! I’m very proud of that line!

I could explain the situation until I was blue in the face and it wouldn’t matter. There was a dead body, and I was responsible.
You've set a tone here. Our heroine is an uber-snark who can't even take death seriously. Yes, I know she takes responsibility, but after the first paragraph, you get the feeling there's more here than you're telling us (which is good). We don't want a heroine who's a sociopath, so there must be something we don't know about the dead body and how it got dead. Good tease.
Thanks.

A steady hum from the ventilation system of the underground building and the rustle of my clothes as I shifted my weight were the only sounds in the room as I awaited my punishment. It was the second time in less than a month a Seeker had basically committed suicide by my hands.
Nice sensory details. You've set a dark industrial type environment for us with great economy of words. Also I want everyone to notice that our heroine is nervous, even though Kimberly resists telling us so (love the ways she shifts her weight, very subtle yet effective). I'm relieved you've let us off the hook a little by telling us the heroine is not homocidal. She just happened to be present and presumably doing her job when the deaths occurred. And yet, Kimberly's left the details dangling. Another good tease.

I didn’t know what the big deal was anyway. They weren’t human.
This seems a little callous from a character I was starting to like. I don't like to see any life form suffer. My compassion isn't limited to homo sapiens. Are the Seekers evil? If so, Seeker is kind of an enlightened sounding name for them. Can you give us a clue why she dislikes them so? Did they harm someone she loved?
They are evil, and they are responsible for the death of her mother and the loss of her leg. I didn’t feel this was the right place for me to go into those details. In my last edit, I changed the last line of that paragraph to read “They weren’t human, no matter how much they resembled us.” But it still sounds pretty harsh. I think I’ll just eliminate this line.

“We will discuss the matter in private chambers,” the Lead Superior stated. As one, all seven Superiors stood. Their faces told me nothing as they silently filed out of their seats and through the heavy metal door.
Ok, I let you have 'protested' in the first line, but I'm going to call you on 'stated.' Honestly, cross my heart, I promise you that editors really, really, really prefer to have just 'said' for a dialogue tag.
I’m laughing, because I just said the same thing yesterday at my critique group meeting. The reason I used stated was because I wanted to show how rigid and proper the ancient Superiors were. But I’m sure the scroll line below works just as well, so I’ll change it.

I took a seat and clasped my hands in my lap in an attempt to keep them from shaking. No matter how indifferent I pretended to be, the truth was I was scared. I could be kicked out of the program because of those stupid, soulless beings.
Take a look at the first sentence. You showed us she's scared. Now check the second sentence. You told us she's scared. Pick one. Readers will accept showing or telling, but not both.
I’d rather show, not tell, of course. How about this – I took a seat and clasped my hands in my lap in an attempt to keep them from shaking. I could be kicked out of the program because of those stupid, soulless human look-alikes. Then I would never get my revenge for my mother’s death.
This way, I cover your question from two paragraphs above and still give a vague description of the Seekers without making my character sound so cold.

A fake cough and then a grunt, and yet another fake cough sounded behind me. I turned to the source, my partner and best friend, and gave him a look of utter exasperation.
I thought she was alone up once the Superiors left. If she has an audience for this quasi-trial, I think we need a hint at it up front.
Good point! Of course he was there, in my mind at least, all along. I will make mention of Jesse sooner. Maybe she’ll cringe or jump when Jesse’s shoe squeaks on the floor as the Superiors are filing out of their seats.

Jesse mouthed two words to me – tell them – and I shook my head – one quick movement no one else would really see. That’d be a negative. Telling them my suspicions would give them even further reason to kick me out – for insanity. His lips moved again – the truth. I turned around, clearly telling him to piss off. I did it just in time, too, because the door to the Superior’s chamber opened.
There are too many dashes in this paragraph. Makes it hard to read. How about this:

Jesse mouthed two words to me. Tell them.

I shook my head, one quick movement no one else would really see. That’d be a negative. Telling them my suspicions would give them even further reason to kick me out. For insanity.

His lips moved again. The truth.

I turned around, clearly telling him to piss off. I did it just in time, too, because the door to the Superior’s chamber opened.

Instead of italicizing Jesse's words in the manuscript, you should underline them to indicate to the typesetter that the text needs to be set in italics. Many publishing houses use underlines for italics because it's hard to see italics in Courier New 12 pt. Notice I broke up the passage into several shorter paragraphs. I think it makes it easier to follow the flow between the two of them.
Thanks for the help. I’ve been struggling with this paragraph but didn’t know how to fix it, so I just skipped over it. I will change all of my italicized words to underlined.

Once they were arranged in their seats, the head of the Superiors stood again and opened a scroll.

Seriously? A scroll? These people needed to get with the times.
Yay, the snark is back.
She’s an angry teen. It comes natural.

I stood rigid as the gray haired man spoke directly to me.

Never, in a million years, would I have guessed their decision. It didn’t make sense. Not a lick of sense. But it was definitely the cruelest thing they could have done.
Oh, you little hooker, you. I hate it but I love it. An author has to be a little bit cruel in order to string her reader along. By not telling us her sentence, you've set some deep hooks to keep us reading.
Never thought I would be proud to be called a hooker, but I am flattered. Thank you.
My DH never thought he'd be proud to say he married one!

The room cleared and there I stood like a statue, completely in shock. A click in the duct work matched the beat of the throb in my amputated leg.
You've given us a wounded warrior. I like it. Your heroine is instantly more likeable. We're solidly in her corner now against the big meanies who are doing . . . whatever it is they've done to her. We don't know because you're such a big tease, but we're dying to find out.
Thanks.

Jesse’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. Slowly I turned to him. This changed everything for him, too.

“I’m going with you.”
He stands by his partner. We like him. A lot.

“No,” I told him firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll never leave your side.”

I would do the same in this situation, if the roles were reversed, but I had to let Jesse go.

Without a goodbye, or thanks for being the best partner and friend a person could ever have, I shoved past him to the rickety elevator that led to a tiny, century old building in a forgotten part of town and headed to the only place I had ever known as home. Soon, it would be a place I would never see again.

Yet another good hook. Kimberly, this is the best example of embedded hooks we've ever had in an excerpt on Red Pencil Thursday. Keep this up and they'll start saying things about your writing. Things like "page-turner."
Thank you so much for this opportunity, Emily. I’ve been following your blog since I met you this spring at RT during the pre-con workshop where you inspired me to be a hooker. RPT has been a great help to me and I’ve recommended it to every author I know.
Thanks for recommending my blog to your friends, Kimberly. I appreciate that very much. Wear your Hooker Badge with pride! You've earned it.

Kimberly Meyer's bio: When she's not writing, Kim can be found playing with tractors on the family farm. She lives in northwest Ohio with her husband, her two children, and her monstrous Saint Bernard.
My website: kimberlymeyeronline.com


Now it's your turn. Please leave your comments or suggestions for Kimberly. This is also a good place for me to let you all know that Kim was the last volunteer in my queue. If you'd like to be a RPT victim/volunteer, please contact me through my website for the details.

Red Pencil Thursday with Kristine Cayne

Please welcome Kristine Cayne to the Red Pencil Thursday online critique group. As with any group, we're only as strong as the members around the table, so please be sure to leave your comments for Kristine.

As usual, my comments are in red. Kristine's are purple.

Obsession
Very nice. One word titles are quite strong.

Where was the best place to shoot Nic “The Lover” Lamoureux? The king-size bed or the beige club chair?
Now, that's an eye-popping opener. He must have really ticked her off. I've never seen Nic spelled that way. Am I just out of the loop?
Thank you! Nic is short for Nicolas (without the “h”). Nic is French Canadian and this spelling is more regionally appropriate than Nick.

Lauren James scanned the hotel room through the lens of her Nikon D700. Eager to get started, she adjusted the intensity of the lights and the angle of the umbrellas around the bed. With her foot, she moved the chair an inch to the left then nudged it an inch to the right.
Ha! Deftly done. I thought I was in the mind of a pre-meditating murderer for a minute. I like it when an author fools me and then lets me in on the joke. Our goal is always to surprise and delight our readers. You're off to a great start.

Thank you.

She glanced at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes confirming what she already knew. He was late. Everything she needed to get the cleanest shot possible was already in place except her target.
Yay! You've followed the writer's path by showing, not telling. You've let us know Lauren is a detail oriented professional by showing her meticulous preparation.

Thank you.

Just then, the door opened, revealing a perfectly matched, elegant couple. Her heart rate accelerated sharply as Nic entered the room. She didn’t recognize the pretty redhead who sauntered in beside him.
I'd cut Just then. It's unnecessary and as I'm always telling my critique partner (and myself!) "Less really is more." I sometimes do a search for all the just, that, even, still and other "filler" type words so I can weed them out of my literary garden.
Good point. I’ll scrub my manuscript for fillers like these.

As she stood rooted to the spot, gaping at the most beautiful man she had ever seen, he crossed the room to stop directly in front of her and smiled. “Hello, chérie. I’m Nic Lamoureux.”
I wonder if famous people actually introduce themselves or if they assume others know them.
I was trying to show that Nic is not your typical arrogant star. That being said, I’ll take another look at this to see if I can bring out that point in a different, perhaps more realistic way.

Oh, God. His voice still held a hint of the sexy Québécois accent she remembered so well. She’d always thought it a shame that he kept it hidden in his movies and public appearances. With considerable effort and concentration, she fought to close her mouth and struggled against the need to slowly peruse his amazing body. After surreptitiously wiping her sweat of her palm off on her hip, she met his gaze and held out her hand.
Oh, God is Lauren's direct thought so it should be underlined to indicate it will be italicized. Other than the bit about his accent (which is great, BTW. I'm drawn to a man's voice first) Kristine has chosen to show us how cool Nic is by giving us Lauren's visceral reaction to him. This is a good technique to demonstrate another character's importance and it allows the reader to fill in the missing details of Nic's "beauty" to conform with their particular preferences. Good job. One little nitpick: I'd change wiping her sweat of her palm off to wiping off her sweaty palm.
You’re absolutely right. It sounds better the second way and gets rid of one preposition.

“Hi Nic,” she said. “I’m Lauren James.”

“Enchanté.” Nic raised her fingers to his lips and lightly kissed her knuckles. She watched mesmerized as the expression in his eyes turned inquisitive. “You seem very familiar. Have we met?”
While this conversation is realistic, it's not interesting. Fictional dialogue has to work harder than this. Every exchange needs a purpose and every speaker has their own agenda. What do each of them expect from the encounter? What do you want the reader to glean from this? If they do know each other, where is Lauren's disappointment that he doesn't remember her as well as she does him?
This encounter is supposed to show two things: Nic The Lover is a flirt and there is something about Lauren that rings a bell but he doesn’t know what. Since this isn’t coming across, I’ll need to rework the passage. As for Lauren’s disappointment, you make a good point. I need to include that here.

Before she Lauren could reply, the redhead joined them. Lauren had always envied women like her. Even though she was perhaps ten years older, the tall, slim woman with her flawless skin, gorgeous hair and perfectly tailored clothes could, no doubt, turn the heads of men still in their twenties. "I’m Vivian Carmichael, Nic’s agent. Where is Raphael?”
Envy isn't an attractive quality. While we need our protagonists to have flaws, you've already given Lauren some jitters. I'd rather not see her afflicted with the green-eyed monster.
Interesting viewpoint. Since we envy what we admire, I’ll change it to “Lauren had always admired women like her.”

The woman leaned forward. “I’m Vivian Carmichael, Nic’s agent. Where is Raphael?”
It's amazing to me how often this happens in my own work. I do some revisions, move some things around, and forget to delete the material in its original place. Reading aloud helps me catch those repeats.
Thank you for catching this.
That said, I'm not sure Ms. Carmichael would deign to introduce herself to someone she really didn't want there. I think Lauren should realize who she is based on her boss's instructions about the gig.
Good point. I’ll rework this part.

“Raphael has a nasty case of the flu. We were supposed to work the photo shoot together but since he can’t be here, he asked me to handle it on my own.” Lauren turned to Nic. “I hope that’s okay with you?”

Are there any un-nasty cases of flu? Some people are very private about their health. Raphael may not appreciate her sharing the details of his illness. Then too, if Lauren's been with him, Nic and his agent might think she's been exposed and is carrying the coughing-up-a-lung, feverish, aching, snot-producing virus I think of when you say "nasty case of the flu." A simple "He's home sick" would suffice.
LOL. Not quite the impression I was going for. I’ll change this.

“Of course it’s —”

“Not okay!” interrupted Vivian, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at her. “Raphael told me about you. I agreed to this arrangement as long as he was here to direct and supervise. I can not allow Nic to go through with this.”

The job of a writer is to choose which details to include. The perfectly manicured finger really speaks to Vivian's character in an economy of words!

Thank you.

Nic smiled at Vivian and smoothed a strand of red hair around her ear. “Vivian, what’s the big deal? We agreed to a photo shoot after the Bad Days premiere. So, let’s just do it. What can it hurt?”

That's a very intimate gesture. We allow very few people to touch our heads. Are Nic and Vivian sleeping together?

Their relationship is not sexual (at least not on Nic’s part) but it is intimate. Vivian is Nic’s only real friend in L.A. and they are very close. Also, when Nic is being “Nic The Lover,” he manages (most) women, including Vivian, through flirting. But, I do see your point and I’ll think about it some more.

Vivian glared at Lauren. “I won’t have your reputation ruined by some two-bit department store photographer.”

Nic frowned. “What are you talking about?”

This question makes your hero seem not quite bright. Obviously, someone in the public eye has to be careful how their image is presented and would demand the best. I'd rather have him say something to try to calm his agent down or say she's being a little harsh. Especially if he and Lauren have a history of some kind together, as I suspect they do.

Good point. I’ll think about how to make him sound brighter even though he has no clue as to the particulars of this particular photo shoot. Vivian manages all these engagements leaving Nic to concentrate on the acting part of his career.

She grasped him by the forearm while making a dismissive gesture toward Lauren. “Darling, this woman isn’t a professional photographer. She simply won a contest and you’re the prize.”

Now the agent seems not quite bright. Lauren isn't there with her cellphone to snap this photo. She's got a heavy-duty Nikon and has set up all the professional lighting equipment and staged the room for a shoot. Lauren is projecting a professional demeanor, despite her inner fangirl. If there's something else afoot here, now is the time to have Vivian give an explanation without making Nic ask her for one. Or if there's a special circumstance surrounding Lauren getting to do this, it should be introduced earlier, maybe as she's setting up for the shoot.
Lauren did win a photography contest for which the prize was to assist Raphael in a photo shoot. This is explained in the next paragraph which unfortunately isn’t in this excerpt. Vivian knows this but hasn’t told Nic since she didn’t think it was a big deal as long as Raphael was there. Now that he’s not, she’s trying to back out of the deal. The tone of her words is supposed to show that she’s very protective, even possessive of Nic to the point that she can be a b*tch about it.

He turned to Lauren, one beautiful black eyebrow raised. “I’m the prize? Exactly what kind of contest was this?”

You used beautiful for Nic once before. Maybe perfect would do here.
Good point.

Thanks for letting me take a look at this, Kristine. There are some good elements to build on here, but I'm going to give you a little tough love. I'm concerned because I just re-read the email from you that indicated that Obsession is a romantic suspense and I wouldn't have known that from this excerpt at all. There's no sense of danger. No hint that someone is being stalked or targeted because you quickly made the bit about "shooting Nic" in the beginning into a joke. You might need to rethink the opening. Pull a Lisa Gardner, Lisa Jackson, or Karen Rose novel from the shelves and see how they start. There's no doubt something evil is afoot from the get-go.
I’m glad that you brought this up since it has forced me to make a decision on something I’d been toying around with for a while. Since Lauren isn’t aware of the danger to Nic, I’ve been thinking about adding a first scene either in Nic’s POV or in the stalker’s POV.

Whew! I was sweating bullets over bringing that up. Sometimes writers just want affirmation. I'm so glad you're serious enough about the craft to be willing to take a hard look at making substantial changes. Your idea to have a scene in a different POV character is a good solution.

Genre fiction needs to be more of one thing than anything else. If it's a comedy, make me spew my drink out my nose. If it's sensual, make me fan myself. If it's historical, don't mess up on the details. If it's suspense, I want tingles running up my spine. From page one. Those are the reader expectations and writers ignore them at our peril.

I'm sure your manuscript becomes more suspenseful, but if you're promising a RS, you need to begin as you mean to continue. Right now this reads as straight contemporary romance.


Bio:
Kristine is a software developer by day and a romance writer by night. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two boys. Kristine started writing, feeling that through words she could create her own stories and entertain herself in a way that nobody else could. Kristine is busy polishing her current work in progress and eager to begin working on her second full length novel.
My website: http://www.kristinecayne.com/ (Aspiring writers should take a look at Kristine's website. It's well-organized, professional and presents her as a serious writer. Just what you want as you build your platform.)
My blog: http://blog.kristinecayne.com/

Red Pencil Thursday with Paisley Kirkpatrick

Happy Red Pencil Thursday! Please welcome Paisley Kirkpatrick, our cheerful voluteer. She's a pre-published author who's beginning to win some contests. This is an important step. Contest wins show she's on the right track and is a wonderful way to get your foot in the door.

My comments for Paisley are in red. Her responses are in purple. Please feel free to add your ideas in the comment section!


PREY OF THE HUNTRESS
Great title. Sounds like a good strong heroine

CHAPTER ONE

Sierra Mountain Range, California, Fall 1853
This is a good way to ground your readers in the world of your story and lots of writers use this device. However, I'd rather see touches of fall in your text instead of being told the time of year here.
Okay, but as she steps out of the cabin we start seeing and feeling the Fall – leaf colors, crisp breeze, it snows…. I can certainly take this off if it takes away. I thought it staged where and when.
That's great. I'm glad to hear you'll show it later, but readers don't like to be told, then shown. Better just to skip telling and go straight to showing. (Can you tell I'm originally from Missouri?)

Rebecca Ryder gaped at the ramshackle cabin. She must have misunderstood the directions or turned the wrong way somewhere. Grandpa had told her he was doing well with the mine, pulling out enough gold to pay her school tuition in the East and still live comfortably, too. This shack told an entirely different story. He’d given no clue he was struggling, or had he and she’d turned a blind eye?

Well, Paisley, you did the same thing I did with my first manuscript. You introduced your heroine with no one for her to talk to, so we have a long, silent exposition. If she's been going to a fancy Eastern school, is it logical to assume she'd go to an abandoned cabin in a remote location alone? Who's your hero? Might he be dragged out as an unwilling guide on this expedition?

Sanity called her back to town after the long dusty trek into this remote wilderness, but curiosity overrode the urge to immediately head down the mountain. After coming this far, she should at least check out the rest of her tattered legacy.

You're telling instead of showing with the Sanity sentence when we need to really get inside Rebecca's head and feel what she's feeling. Give us some sensory details that put us in the scene. The last sentence in this paragraph smacks a bit of something called 'author intrusion.' You're stepping in and telling your character what she should do.
I had intended this last sentence to be her internal thoughts. Will rework it.

Determined to give grandpa the benefit of doubt, she stepped out of the saddle. A few of the boards dipped as she trod across the narrow porch. Turning the door handle, she let out an impatient sigh as the crude planks protested. She shoved the door just enough with her shoulder to slip inside. The breath caught in her throat. Oh, Grandpa, no! Her spirits plummeted.

Point of equestrianship. She'd step out of the stirrup or dismount the horse, not step out of the saddle.
I knew this wasn’t quite right, but for the life of me I couldn’t come up with something that did. Embarrassed after the years of riding horses… 
We want to like our heroine. Be careful you're not making Rebecca a little unlikeable here. She's impatient and judgemental with a man who has obviously sacrificed for her welfare.
I can fix this – she wasn’t meant to be judgmental, but horrified that her grandfather lived in such a horrid state because he paid her tuition. He supposedly had found a lucrative gold mine and had a lot of money. He’d been writing and telling her this. The reason for the state of the cabin is something she soon discovers is a ploy to cover the fact that he has found a huge gold strike and is hiding the fact from those who would want to steal it.
Ooo! That's good.

Rows of newspapers stood side by side from floor to eye level. Stale, vanilla-scented pipe tobacco permeated the air barely disguising other repugnant odors that she couldn’t identify. She cringed and brushed away lace-like cobwebs that hung from the rafters, sticking in her hair and tickling her face.

Where would a miner get all those newspapers?
Her grandfather owned the local newspaper and the reason why all these newspapers are in the cabin has an important bearing on the story.
Ok, that makes sense, but since newspapers are an unusual item for most miners, you might tuck that little nugget of knowledge in there for us.

I love the vanilla-scented pipe tobacco and wish you hadn't added the unidentified repugnant odors . Here's an opportunity for that familiar smell to trigger an emotional response in your heroine. Scent is tied to memory. I still remember my tough-guy dad tearing up when he smelled cinnamon in the kitchen cupboard of his grandparent's tumbled-down cabin.
My grandfather had a vanilla scented tobacco in his pipe and you are right, vanilla always makes me think of him.
It takes a while for cobwebs to build up to that level. How long has the cabin been empty?
Her grandfather has been dead over two weeks and he was sick before then for a while. However, here in the mountains (I live where this takes place) it doesn’t take long as we share the woods and our house with spiders. I can take webs down daily and never run out of them unfortunately.
Silly me. My citified, condo-dwelling roots are showing!

A few steps along a narrow opening brought her to a wooden platform. She ran her fingers over the sparse mattress and rumpled bedding. Three broken bricks propped up the corner of a woodstove placed in an area she’d hardly consider a kitchen. She fingered a chipped cup sitting on the shelf of a small cupboard.

Sparse mattress? Do you mean thin? I like the tactile elements of this paragraph. Now we're getting sensory details. Yay! Can you add her emotional response to them?
Yes, thin mattress. The cool thing is that at the museum in Coloma we got to see the inside of a cabin that was used during this time of history so I had a visual to rely on.
Cool about the museum. That kind of hand's on research is so much richer than cracking a book or surfing the web.

The lawyer informed her mountain men passing through his property happened to find grandpa dead. They probably were the ones who’d tossed the rotted food remnants in a bucket without care. The stench of decay curdled her stomach, but not half as much as the thought of her grandfather dying up here in the mountains alone.

I didn't know until this point that her grandfather was dead. I expected to see him stagger in or something. I wonder if it would be easier for the reader if we knew this information right up front.
I thought tattered legacy told that this was her inheritance, but certainly can make it clearer. ;-)
Sometimes you have to hit me over the head with things. Let's see if it strikes others the same way before you change it.

The rotten food is certainly a pungent detail, but I wonder if its necessary. It marrs the previous tobacco smell that could have conjured up a bittersweet moment and seems like a distraction from the first visceral reaction from Rebecca.
I was trying to make the cabin repugnant to her because she needs to decide whether to stay and accept the property or give it up. The lawyer doesn’t want her to accept the property because he is trying to secure it for the hero’s family at a good price. He purposely sends her to see it alone because he is dishonest and can taste his fee when he can secure it for the MacGregors. She grew up on a farm in Texas and I didn’t think it was out of the question that she would be independent enough to ride up the road to look at the property.
Ok. Greedy, blood-sucking lawyer is kind of an over-used character. What if the lawyer was honest, but his clients were the bad guys? Just a thought. At this point, I don't know Rebecca grew up on a Texas ranch. I'm thinking cossetted tenderfoot wandering in the wilderness, because all I've been told is that her Grandpa paid for her Eastern school tuition. If you want readers to consider her smart, let us know she has the background for this remote gallivanting. I worry about her otherwise.

A small table scattered with wooden matches and a lantern sat next to his oak rocking chair.

Tears filled her eyes as she touched the carved back of the treasured antique. It was the only piece of furniture he’d taken when her father ran him off their Texas farm five years ago.
She dropped into his rocker and slowly moved her hands back and forth along the smooth-as-silk armrests. As a young child her grandfather had welcomed her on his lap in this very chair. They’d spent hours reading her favorite stories together. If only she could hear his voice one more time. Run to him for comfort. But she couldn’t. After he’d sent the letter to come, she’d rushed to reach Paradise Pines. His heart gave out two weeks before she arrived. She slumped over and sobbed into her hands. Grandpa, why’d you leave me?

Oh, yes, I've sat in a chair with smooth as silk armrests. Ordinarily I'd say smooth as silk is an overused expression, but this is the first time I've seen it applied to wood.

Oops! Young child. Is there any other kind?

I'd care more about Rebecca's tears if there was more of a lead up to them. A quivering chin, a lump in her throat--there are a number of ways you can show how she feels about losing her Grandpa throughout this opening. I really like this idea.
And I like some of the elements you've got going in your story here.

As I mentioned to Paisley when we talked about her comments, I'm not the final arbiter here. Paisley is. This is her story. She's the only one who can decide the best way to tell it. The goal of Red Pencil Thursday is always just to give the volunteer writer something to think about and maybe a few suggestions to make their work better. Thanks for being here today, Paisley.

Thank you for the opportunity, Emily.

Paisley Kirkpatrick is a ten year veteran of RWA along with Sacramento Valley Rose and many online chapters. She is unpublished, working on her fourth story, and starting to win contests. Because she lives where the 49er gold rush occurred, she finds interesting living history to add reality to her stories.

Her website URL is: http://www.myspace.com/paisleykirkpatrick

Now it's your turn. What was I wrong about? Do you see anything you'd like to change? If you're here, you're a member of the critique group, so your voice is important. Just remember Paisley can decide to ignore us all if she likes!

Red Pencil Thursday with Saranna DeWylde

Welcome to another Red Pencil Thursday! We have a returning RPT alumnus, Saranna DeWylde! Last time, Saranna treated us to the opening of her delightful, snarky How to lose An Angel in 10 Days. Today she takes us to a much darker, grittier world.

My comments are in red. Saranna's are in purple. Of course, Saranna is free to accept or ignore anything I say. The point is to get us all thinking about the writing process and how to tell our stories better.


Savior
One word titles are powerful and this one is certainly evocative. The problem is that this might be confused for an inspirational title.

Chapter 1- The Eternal Knight
Great. Don't we all love immortals of any kind?

Screams of terror shattered the sweet haven of darkness and thrust Krestien de Godfrey back to a time when the Maltese cross had been a banner of pride he’d worn on his chest instead of the scarred brand on his back. The cool seduction of the night became hot and unbearable, just like the noonday sun set adrift on fiery oceans of sand.

Wow, Saranna! What a different voice for you. After your How to lose an Angel in 10 Days, I expected snarky humor. This is a huge departure, but it demonstrates your scope as a writer. You're able to adjust your voice to suit the type of story. Kudos.

Thanks! I’ve written four books since September and they were all snarky. I had to have some angst or I was going to go nuts and this story has been gnawing at me for some time.

4 since September! (Bowing in awe) Incredible output and so necessary in this market. Good job!
Now for the pickiness. I'm a little confused about what's happening here. "Thrust back to a time" suggests he's time traveling. "Noonday sun set" is another string of words that stops me. I know you didn't mean it that way, but it made me pause. Unless we're on a different planet, a noon sun set isn't possible.

Remember the Prime Directive of Writing: Be Clear. Show us exactly what's going on and where we are without ambiguity. Later on, I figured out this is an urban fantasy, but in the beginning, we could be anywhere, anytime.

You are so right. I knew there was something awkward there, but I didn’t know what. There’s a lot of that in this first chapter—paragraphs where I feel something is off, but I can’t put my finger on it.

His skin prickled and Krestien burned with the memory of blisters rising on his smooth, tanned flesh. The weight of his phantom armor made his limbs heavy and that screaming rang in his ears—a benediction for the dead.

He was no hero, but a man haunted.

Oh how we love tortured heroes. Phantom armor is inventive. Equating screaming with a benediciton is anther fresh twist. You've laid enough hooks to keep me reading.

Krestien turned down the alley and saw the victim had fought valiantly. The body of one man lay stiff, his once living flesh cooled on the wet street and his blood mixed with oil slicks and standing rain water.

Rigor mortis starts around 3 hours after someone is dead. Has that body been there that long?

Uh, no. And I knew that. *laughs*

Another man was holding his thigh— a steady stream of blood dripped around the ancient blade that was buried in his flesh to the hilt. Krestien could see from the markings on the handle the blade was ceremonial in nature—Mayan to be exact. If the victim’s attacker dared to pull it out, he’d tear the muscle along with the blade.

Mayan? My interest is definitely perked.

Let's do some tightening. How about getting rid of was? Another man held his thigh is more active than using a was and -ing verb. Cut that was. A steady stream of blood dripped around the ancient blade buried in his flesh to the hilt is less cluttered. Drop to in the last sentence. It's not needed--dared pull it out reads fine, but there's a logic problem with the last bit. He'd tear the muscle makes sense, but along with the blade seems to suggest the blade would be torn.

This was another of those paragraphs where I thought it was awkward, but I didn’t know what to fix.

It was a woman who held the victim up against the crumbling wall of the abandoned warehouse. She was dressed in tactical gear, nothing of which could identify her, but it was the tattoo visible in the pale light of the moon that marked her for what she was. A chalice flanked on each side by a griffin was tattooed on her bicep.

Again, let's tighten. A women held the victim is a less cluttered way to begin that sentence. Drop the first of, it was, and that from the 2nd sentence and see how you like it. She was dressed in tactical gear, nothing which could identify her, but the tattoo visible in the pale light of the moon marked her for what she was.

“This doesn’t concern you, Templar,” the woman said without turning around.

Good way to have someone else identify your hero. We had the hint of the Maltese Cross, but this confirms his affiliation.

“Why don’t we let the lady decide, Covenite?” Krestian’s lips twisted into a wry smile. He wouldn’t hesitate to cut her down if she moved against the woman pinned to the wall. Evil didn’t differentiate by what was between her thighs, so neither would he.

Whoa! What lady? We had a man bleeding with the Mayan blade. Where did he go? This lady has popped up out of nowhere.

Will fix! She’s the victim. I guess it looks like the Mayan blade guy is the victim.

I like the term Covenite. I've never run across it before. Is that original with you? It conveys an unholy bent that makes her a good foil for your Templar.

It is. The Templars in this story arc serve the Grail and the Covenites serve the Ark of the Covenant.

The last sentence will scan better if you substitute based on for by what.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” ;-) The woman pushed a glock against her quarry’s forehead.

“What do you say, Samara? Is chivalry dead? Does this concern him?” she sneered.

Samara smiled and kneed the woman between her thighs and ducked. She pushed the glock aside, but the Covenite still got a shot off and the bullet went through Samara’s chest, just above and a breath to the left of her heart.

Ok, the victim isn't so helpless. I think we've discovered our heroine!

I don't often recommend an adverb, but when someone smiles when there's nothing to smile about, I'd like to know more. Did she smile disarmingly? Grimly? Let us know.

Just is one of those words editors love to hate. It's usually unnecessary. Cut whenever possible.

Krestien grabbed the Covenite from behind and slammed her against the wall. The woman fought well without her modern weapon. She used her knees, her elbows, her teeth and her nails. Krestien was immune to her battle charms, her blows like nothing but that of a child. When he had the woman at his mercy, he positioned his hands to snap her neck. It was (change to would be since he hasn't done it yet) quick and merciful, more so (Cut so. Another just type word) than any Covenite deserved.

“Just” and “that” are my Kryptonite.

“Please don’t hurt her,” the dark haired Samara cried before fainting as the (Cut the) blood spurted from between her fingers.

Oh, yeah, she's the heroine. Gotta love that forgiving attitude. Reminiscent of Christ forgiving His tormentors from the cross. Hence your title?

Thanks for letting me take a look at this new WIP. You've got lots of inventive elements and have created a world where conflict already lives. I see great promise here.

Thanks for having me again (I am a glutton for punishment!) and for all of your great advice.

About the Author:

Saranna DeWylde is a full time Amazon Goddess and former corrections officer who decided she’d seen enough shanks and skanks. Originally a horror writer, having written her first story at her 8th birthday party in colored pencil after watching The Exorcist, she further decided her dark quill was meant for Happily Ever After instead of the things that grab your feet if they hang off the end of the bed.

http://sarannadewylde.com/

Now it's your turn! What suggestions or encouragements do you have for Saranna?

Red Pencil Thursday with LJ Cohen

Welcome to another Red Pencil Thursday, our online critique group. If you're here, you're invited to participate. I'm in Bermuda right now running away with my DH to celebrate our anniversary, but LJ Cohen, our guest author, would appreciate your comments and suggestions.

As always, a critique is only one person's opinion. Mine are expressed in red. LJ's are italicized in purple. So without further ado, let's dive into LJ Cohen's epic fantasy, WINGS OF WINTER.


First off, I love the title. Wings of Winter implies a journey and an edge of danger. (Anyone who thinks winter can't be dangerous needs to spend one in Minneapolis!)
Thanks! I’ve spent enough brutal winters in upstate NY and New England, myself.


The stag crashed through the tangled undergrowth, its sides heaving. In the shadows, a darker shadow spread across the graceful arch of its neck. Fat raindrops of blood dripped onto the shiny surfaces of outstretched leaves. Elias listened to the tortured sigh of the animal's last breath. In the distance, the hunters' voices rose, their argument carrying clearly in the still twilight air.

Good beginning. You've dropped us directly into the action and made us scramble to keep up. I'd suggest you not use shadows and shadow in the same sentence. I know what you're trying to say, but it stopped me for a second. The fat raindrops are evocative, but a little confusing. If you say 'Fat raindrops of blood dripped from the beast's throat onto the . . . " then I know exactly what's happening. Elias seems to be floating here. Ground him for us. Where precisely is he?


That whole floating character thing is an issue I struggle with in every story. I’ll need to buy some extra gravity. :)

"We cannot follow, Milord."

"The stag is mine!"

"It will die beyond the border, Lord Kaleb. Let it go."

"I’ll have the beast."

"Lord, we do not cross into Aliud land."

"Return to the garrison without me then. I’ll get the antlers myself."

"There is no need, Kaleb. We all saw your killing shot."

Good byplay, but if he's Lord Kaleb, would someone call him by just Kaleb?
Good point. An easy change to "Lord".

Elias smiled as the ambitious hunter tracked the stag's trail closer and closer to the boundary. He projected an illusion of the wounded animal into the man’s mind and sent him chasing it through darkening woods past the border that his sister ensured no Aliud could cross. Kaleb ran, heedless of the branches that tore through his shirt sleeves and scratched thin welts across his arms and face. Elias ensured that the beast was always just out of bow shot.

This is one place where I might recommend a dreaded -ly word. Elias smiled, but he's not happy. Did he smile grimly?
I know, all adverbs aren’t evil! I’ll figure out what’s most descriptive for Elias here.
Adverbs are like salt. Best used sparingly, but sometimes necessary.


Your hero possesses some unique abilities. It's good to emphasize them early like this, but I'm a little unsure about what he's doing with them. The mention of his sister is a little confusing. Are the hunters Aliud or is he? You've used the word ensure twice here. It's a word that trips me up so I looked it up in the dictionary. It says:

"Ensure, insure, assure, secure mean to make a thing or person sure. Ensure, insure, and assure are interchangeable in many contexts where they indicate the making certain or inevitable of an outcome, but ensure may imply a virtual guarantee (The government has ensured the safety of the refugees), while insure sometimes stresses the taking of necessary measures beforehand (Careful planning should insure the success of the party), and assure distinctively implies the removal of doubt and suspense from a person's mind (I assure you that no harm will be done). Secure implies action taken to guard against attack or loss (I sent reinforcements to secure their position)."

Are you using the word you intend to?


I only saw the echo on ‘ensure’ after I sent you the 500 words! Isn’t that always the case?? I will likely keep the first one and omit the second. Ensure is the correct word in the instance of the sister. We learn later on, that Elias’ sister was the Queen of his people (the Aliud) and she sealed the border with her abilities.
The hunters are human.
Elias isn’t the hero, he’s actually the antagonist. More on this in your prologue comment, as it’s something I’ve been struggling with in this story.

I catch more echoes if I read my work aloud.

Yikes for Elias being the villain! I was in his POV and I didn't know. I need more sense of malice from him. The thing you need to ask yourself is "Who's story is it?" Meaning who will have the strongest character arc from beginning to end. And that's who you should start with.

At the edge of a clearing, Kaleb nocked an arrow, pulled the bowstring taut, and loosed.
What is Kaleb shooting at? The phantom stag? The real one? Elias?

Kaleb is shooting at the phantom. Elias took the image of the real stag Kaleb had already killed and made an illusion that Kaleb chased. Ack--this is so clear in my mind! Why aren’t you telepathic, Emily??? LOL. Darned readers--they only see what the words show. :)

Showing is important, but sometimes, you need to tell too. The trick is knowing when to do each.

A brief cry shattered the silence.
Teasing the reader with incomplete information is a time-tested technique, but don't confuse us. We need a bit more to understand what is happening.



Yup. Will do. Would this help? "His sister’s brief cry shattered the silence."

Not unless you've told me Elias has set his sister up more clearly. Otherwise, I'm still clueless.

Elias shouted his triumph and Kaleb dropped the bow, crumpling to the ground, his hands clasped to his head. Stealing through his thoughts, Elias altered Kaleb’s recent memories and sent him reeling back through the trees towards the border and the men and horses waiting
for him there.

Now I'm really confused. Kaleb shot an arrow, but Elias shouts his triumph? You have two male characters. When you use a pronoun, make sure we know which man you mean. 'Stealing through the hunter's thoughts' would be more clear.
Again, one of those examples of so clear to me, so muddy on the page. Sigh. Elias manipulates Kaleb to kill Elias’ sister. (We learn later that this is because he is unable to do it directly himself.)
As writers, we see all. We know all. Our readers only know what we can clearly convey. This is why a trusted beta readers is so important.

Moonrise illuminated the clearing. Elias strode slowly toward the body. He stood over it, watching as life ebbed out of his sister who lay bleeding in the grass.

It's nighttime? This is too far in to tell us this. In my mind, I had them hunting in the daylight. Shadows in the first paragraph implies a light source strong enough to cause them.

I have this as twilight at the start of the scene, but perhaps the transition isn’t smooth enough. I’ll revisit.

Was his sister the stag? In which case, it should be a doe. Did he purposely make Kaleb think he was shooting a deer when he shot a woman instead? Does Elias hate his sister? He certainly shows no emotion over her passing. While it's important to raise questions in the readers mind, this is too nebulous for me to follow. The Prime Directive of writing is : Be Clear.

Yes--the stag was an illusion that masked his sister. In effect, Elias tricked Kaleb into loosing the fatal arrow. Yes--Elias hates his sister. That enmity is what sets the plot in motion. I’m struggling with the utility of the prologue. On the pro side, it’s the single event that sets up the entire rest of the story. And it’s pretty dramatic. On the con side, we don’t revisit Elias again for more than a handful of chapters and I think it may be confusing, as the main character in this story is Sparrow (who we meet in chapter 1). I could certainly drop hints of the visuals from the prologue later in the book, and ultimately, as I think about it, just starting with chapter 1 would be a better opening. That way, the reader discovers, as Sparrow does, that Elias (her uncle) has killed her mother (his sister, the Queen).
It's dramatic, but if this is Sparrow's story, the story should begin with her reaction to this upheaval in her life. If she learns her uncle is a murderer, that's pretty dramatic.

Chapter 1

Sparrow stared up into the canopy. Even now when autumn work left little time for daydreaming, she still loved to nest in the moss and dried leaves of the forest floor and listen to the birds chatter. A steady rise in birdsong announced the approach of dusk. Time to head
home.

The only reason to have a prologue is to give important info without which the reader could not continue. I don't see an immediate connection between Elias and Sparrow. Is one coming within the next page? I like the name Sparrow for your heroine. Nice tie in with the title.
Prologue is going to end up on the cutting room floor, as per my last comment! The scene won’t be wasted, just presented differently. And the scene Sparrow walks into when she gets home is quite dramatic as well--it’s what shakes her from her comfortable life and into the story.
If that's the case, you may still not be starting in the right place. Authors have less time to devote to "the ordinary world" than we used to. Most editors want us to drop readers right into the heat of the action and keep going.

Hoisting her basket with blue-tinged hands, she whistled a cheery thanks to her feathered namesakes. Darkness draped the fir and pine trees long before Sparrow reached the stone walls that marked the edges of her family's land. She shivered in the rapidly cooling air and quickened her pace, as surefooted in the dark as in full daylight here in the wild places.

Why is she thanking the birds? Be careful you don't have a Disney moment here. I don't think it fits the tone you began with. Why are her hands blue tinged? Is she berry picking? A Pictish maiden? Is she not human since this is a fantasy? I like that she's seems capable and unafraid. Good qualities for a heroine.

Sparrow can understand the language of birds. She doesn’t understand why, yet, but it’s part of her heritage, as she’s half Aliud. I will re-word the sentence, or omit it altogether and get the information across another way, as I definitely don’t want that Disney moment! Her hands are blue from berry picking. That’s made clear in the next sentence or two.
I didn't get that she understood bird language from this scene and it would be important to show, I think.

She scrambled over the stone stile and into a solid wall of sheep. The flock huddled in the deepening night, bleating their distress. Sparrow frowned and whistled for the

And since I'm a stickler for the 500 word rule, we've ended mid-sentence. Looks like you've got an interesting start to Wings of Winter, lots of intrigueing characters and a unique ability in Elias that I'd like to learn more about. Thanks for letting me take a look at your epic fantasy.

Thank you very much, Emily. This was the first novel I wrote six years ago (I still have my first draft! Scary!) and “RPT” was just the push I needed to decide to revisit it. I think the story has good bones and my summer project will be a full-contact revision.

My pleasure. Sounds like a great summer project. Please let me know what happens to this story when you're finished. You've got a richly imagined world here.
--
LJ Cohen lives in the western suburbs of Boston, MA with her husband, 2 sons, and one dog. She and her dog Tigger are registered as a therapy team through Caring Canines. When she's not reading, writing, or editing, she's a physical therapist in private practice.

http://www.ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/
http://www.ljcohen.net/

Red Pencil Thursday from Cyprus!

I've never met my guest writer for this week's Red Pencil Thursday, except through this blog. Glynis has been a frequent commenter here for some time and today, she's sharing the opening her of WIP with us. As usual for Red Pencil Thursdays, my comments are in red, Glynis's responses are italicized in purple. Yours may be added at the bottom of this post. Please feel free to share your thoughts here at this online critique group.

Ripper, My Love
You've already jerked my attention in with this title. Ripper My Love is a little like Springtime for Hitler. You don't think of either of them in connection with romance, but you've definitely piqued my interest.
Well that is a good start, but please don't get too excited Emily. It is fun playing with this story. And because JTR is an unknown, my imagination can run riot.

He stood back in the shadows and watched as the young redhead tripped, then reached out to steady herself against the wall. She didn't look as if she had been under the influence of alcohol, as many of the women in the area were. The watcher decided to stay within the blackness of the shadows, this was not the girl for him tonight.

I think you should use was instead of had been in the second sentence. Had been indicates something in the past when he's noticing her in the now. You're telling us she didn't look as if she was drunk, then you show us by having her steadying herself. Don't tell, then show. Just show. Your last sentence is actually two. Replace the comma with a period. By telling me now that this is not the girl for him you yanked away all the suspense. How about letting him consider her longer before deciding to pass?
I must remember to address both these issues. Letting him consider her a bit more, is something to ponder over. Thank you Emily.


Kitty lifted her skirts as she stepped gingerly through the dirty alley way, the gas lamp flickered and cast shadows about her. Never one for being nervous of her surroundings, Kitty felt a new sensation, a feeling of being watched or followed. No noises had made her skin crawl, just a feeling deep inside. She walked a little quicker and the clip of her heels echoed around the dimly lit, narrow lane.
You've switched POV characters from one paragraph to the next. Generally, that's a no-no. The reason to pick a character and stick with them is that this is how we begin to identify with the character. In order to build suspense, you must stay with the Ripper or cut the whole first paragraph and build on her sense of uneasiness through her POV. Replace the comma with a period and separate the first sentence into two.
I had considered using the first paragraph as a mini prologue. It is a paragraph I do not seem to be able to remove. It is a stubborn one. You are quite right, and I will put it to one side in favour of Kitty.
Now that's an interesting idea. If you decided to do a mini-prologue from JTR's POV, might I suggest you don't have him decide against choosing her for his attention until the end of the chapter when you can book-end it with a mini-epilogue from him? Just double space both places to indicate a POV switch.

Her father would skin her alive if he knew she had taken this way home. Before the new street lamps had been put in place, the city of London was in darkness and she would never have walked home this way. She mentally chided herself . (, o)Only a few weeks previous, a woman had been murdered in the area and they hadn't caught the murderer yet. Some of her neighbours with relatives near the murder scene, had been told the woman had been hacked to death, but her friend, Billy Irish said she had been cut up by a professional.

Ok, your heroine is in danger of being TSTL. If she's going to take this dangerous way, she needs a compelling reason. Otherwise we'll be disgusted with her for taking unnecessary risks. Your reader wants to walk in the heroine's shoes. Make sure we understand why she makes this risky choice. (Hint: The motivation of someone else's danger is the best reason for your heroine to do something she knows is risky.) There's a run-on sentence here that need to be broken up into two. You can see how I replaced the comma.
TSTL?
Oh, no. It sounds so much meaner in words than in just letters and my goal is not to be unkind. TSTL means "too stupid to live." Sorry, but the point is still valid. This reminded me a bit of the teenage slasher movies where everyone knows something bad will happen if she goes into the creepy basement, but she goes anyway. Now if there was a child in danger in the basement, we'd love her as heroic, but doing something dangerous without reason makes us doubt the heroine's intelligence. We want her to be smart. Sometimes I'm guilty of making my heroine do things to facilitate a plot point, but I always have to trash it and think of something else. It's wrong to make a character do something that makes her less a heroine just to fix a plot problem. Don't let her take a foolish risk without reason.
I see what you mean about Kitty having a reason for taking a risk. I will have a rethink, thanks.

Billy never said any more than that, just 'cut up by a professional'. Kitty often wondered what sort of person would be considered professional in Billy's eyes; maybe he meant a doctor. One of the surgeon types who cut off her mother's leg when the ulcers ate deeper into her flesh. If the woman had been hacked to death it would probably have been by a gang member from the riverside.
I'm seeing a pattern of run-on sentences so I turned them orange. This way you can take a look and decide how you'd like to break them up. One of the reasons I read my work aloud is so I can can catch overly long or awkward sentences. Anything I stumble over or have to take a breath to finish needs to be revised.
I want to leave you breathless Emily, but not this way. Thanks, I will set aside an edit session to rid myself of this bad habit. The run on sentences need addressing. I am going to have a reading out loud session with my beta reader soon. This will be the area I will focus on.


'Cut up by a professional', the words made Kitty shudder, it was a horrible thought that the murdered woman's life ended in a neat and tidy killing. Carried out just to satisfy another's need or fantasy. Maybe she had fallen behind with the rent and the landlord arranged her demise.

Kitty allowed her mind to continue along the morbid path of murder, her blood ran cold at the thought and she regretted walking through the short cut. The next time she returned from visiting her friends she would walk down Whitechapel Road. It was probably much safer, as there were more people walking along the street. She could hear the noise from the crowds turning out of the public houses and theatres in the distance, Kitty wished she was amongst them at that present time.
I'd cut the green sentence because it's telling and your next sentence shows the same thing.
How many times have I read this and not realised the repeat? Thanks and I will remove it. I think it reads much better without it.
It's a common error. I catch myself at it all the time. We do it because we're too close to the work and don't see it without a little time and distance.

She shivered from the chill of the night air, and as she did so, she lost her footing, she reached out to the wall to steady herself. If anyone had seen me then, she giggled inwardly, they would think I'd been helping myself to the ale at Mrs Ringer's.
I italicized her thoughts. To indicate it on a manuscript, you should underline what needs to be italicized. Actually, I think this is your first paragraph right here. It's what the Ripper sees at the beginning, so if you've decided to go with Kitty's POV, this is the same starting point. Plus your heroine comes across as charming in this self-deprecating moment.
Yes, I had forgotten to correct this thought section. I will ensure I do it when I rewrite. With regards to the first paragraph, I am going to do just as you suggest. It opens up the first chapter, and gets across what I am aiming for.


As she walked on she was relieved to see the end
And Glynis had to end on an incomplete sentence since I'm a stickler on my 500 word rule.
I'm afraid your work is suffering from the same problem my excerpt had--no one for your protagonist to interact with. Starting with lots of internal dialogue is not going to grab an editor.

But suspense might. If Kitty went this way because she's supposed to meet Billy, we could see her fretting and glancing over her shoulder. She could sag with relief when she hears the tune he always whistles coming her way in the dark. Then we could be privy to the realtime conversation about all the background info on previous deaths. Or you could stick with the Ripper's POV and have him shadow the two of them, gloating about overhearing the details of his crimes. And all the time we'd wonder if he was going to decide to kill them both.

Should I start it with Kitty or leave it with She? She shivered or Kitty shivered. I am wanting to change it to Kitty, the reader will know her name from the onset.
Definitely start with Kitty. You don't want to be like me and name the horse and the dog, but not the protagonist! LOL!
Glynis has sent me a new first paragraph to share with you, based on the critique:

Kitty shivered from the chill of the night air, and as she did so, she lost her footing. She reached out to the wall to steady herself. If anyone had seen me then, she giggled inwardly, they would think I had helped myself to the ale at Ma Parker's.

Yes! I like this better. And you can still work in the suspense through her POV. I hope you'll be giving her someone to walk and talk with as well.

Thanks for letting me take a look at your work, Glynis. Hope your public scrubbing didn't hurt too badly. I used my softest loofah, honest!

Glynis Smy was born in the UK, in the coastal town of Harwich. During her nursing career she wrote two poetry books, short stories and has been published in various magazines in the UK and Southern Cyprus, her new home since 2005.

Writing in the vineyards with no stress, has given her time and confidence to work her first novel, Ripper My Love. Check out her blog! It's a good one! http://www.glynissmy.com/