The "500 Word" Critiques and Discussion

[Whispersecret]

Re: frostbite

Hey, karma, thanks for replying.

I don't like starting a story with the character's name. I'm probably in the minority here, but it makes me think of those books I won't buy that have a list of the characters on the flap.

Scarlet Mugglesworth an adult diaper heiress and professional skateboarder with a passion for the boardroom... and Love!

Strafe Johnson her skateboarding nemesis and owner of a rival diaper company. He harbors a secret passion for Scarlet, and an even bigger secret under his skate shorts. He wears Mugglesworth undies!

I don't like the cast of characters on the flaps either. Thank goodness I don't see them much anymore. However, I'm not adverse to having the character's name start off the story. It's not like I'm slamming the reader with his whole biography.

I think maybe a description of the scene first. Also, when you have only one character, it's not so necessary to give the names straightaway.

You're got a point.

The other thing I wanted to mention was this: A skier that doesn't know what frostbite looks like? Maybe he's a beginner, or maybe he's only a spring skier?

Well, I've skied, and I haven't a clue what frostbite looks like. Of course, I only ski the kiddie slopes, so it wouldn't be difficult to find me if I fell and broke something. Like a fingernail. LOL

Thanks for the input. On a side note, I see that your Talisman chapter is still doing well. I liked that chapter a lot.

 

[karmadog]

Mild frostbite would result in the flesh being very white. The outer blood vessels constrict to keep the core temperature up. With no blood to feed the flesh, it can die. Just make sure Logan runs his hands under cold tap water and gently rub his hands together. I'm sure he'll be fine. Although a half hour in a snowstorm with your hands in contact with metal is a long time.

I'm glad you enjoyed my talisman chapter. I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't gotten to yours yet. But I promise I will. I'm hot on a story myself right now.

 

[Whispersecret]

Don't be ashamed. I haven't read all of them either. Shh, don't tell anyone.

 

[Whispersecret]

Phoenix646

All righty! Sorry about the delay. As much as I'd like to spend all my time online, I can't.

Here goes, Phoenix646.

It had been a week since Rogue and Scott’s “encounter.” All of the students finished their finales (finals) and the seniors finally graduated from high school. In honor of the recent events, the headmaster of the School for the Gifted, Professor Charles Xavier (comma) decided to throw a party for the young mutants. And with a pool located behind the mansion what better party, then a pool party. The instructors were preparing food, while most of the students were lounging around the pool. Being young and free of school, the young mutants were defiantly enjoying themselves in the company of each other.

And with a pool located… This should, in my opinion, have a question mark, since it’s a question.

I’m not an X-men fan, but I saw part of the movie. High-tech sci-fi, right? Is a pool “out there” enough? Remember I’m not familiar with this comic. Maybe you should describe the pool to show us how it’s different from, say, my neighbor’s pool.

The instructors were preparing food, while most of the students were lounging… Consider changing “were preparing,” “were lounging,” and “were enjoying themselves” to “prepared,” “lounged, and “enjoyed.” Watch for that type of thing in the rest of the story too.

You’ve got “young” twice in that last sentence. Why are they defiant in their enjoyment? Are they not supposed to enjoy each other’s company?

I’m assuming that only x-men fans would probably read this, so take my confusion with a grain of salt. People familiar with the comic will probably understand.

However, Rogue(comma) being the gothic recluse that she was, isolated herself from the group. She laid herself down on a lawn chair and tried to stay as far away from her peers. Especially while wearing a bathing suit, Rogue normally isolate(isolated) herself like this due to her powers. She always feared that someone might accidentally touch her and possibly hurt that person. However, Rogue had just recently discovered that she could control her absorption powers. Only Kitty and Scott knew of Rogue’s control and for the moment, she decided to keep it that way. Hold(Old) habits die hard and Rogue enjoyed being by herself.

You’ve got quite a few errors in this paragraph. I suggest you read your stuff aloud once and you might catch them next time.
She laid herself down… Take out “herself.” Unnecessary. Actually the whole sentence is unnecessary. When you say that she isolated herself, that already implies that she stays away from her peers, but if you want to keep it, it should be “she lay down.”

Especially while wearing a bathing suit, Rogue normally isolate herself like this due to her powers. Why ESPECIALLY in a bathing suit? You've used "isolated" twice a little too close for comfort.

She always feared that someone might accidentally touch her and possibly hurt that person. This is complicated to explain, but that is grammatically incorrect. The way you say it, it means, “someone might touch her and hurt that person.” The someone would be hurting himself.

As she was lying out, trying desperately to get a tan, she occasionally caught some of he boys looking at her.

“Ya know,” Rogue thought “For a girl who isn’t all that popular, ah sure do get gawked at a lot.”

“Lying” is telling a lie. Should be: "As she lay there..." Also, you're doing the "WAS LYING" construction again. Nix the "ing" verbs if they're not necessary.

Don’t put thoughts in quotation marks. Should be: Ya know, Rogue thought, for a girl who isn’t all that popular, ah sure do get gawked at a lot.

She can’t be that naïve to not realize with her rack that boys will stare, so when she thinks this, she comes across as a bit full of herself, in my opinion. Still, remember that I’m new to X-men and maybe to fans it won’t seem off-putting.

With new confidence about herself, Rogue decided to wear a very small black and purple bikini. The bikini was perfect at showing off Rogue’s wonderful features. Her smooth pale white legs led up to her firm and toned stomach. These two attributes alone would drive most pubescent boys to madness. However nothing compared to her ample chest. Needless to say Rogue’s breast(breasts) were much too large for the material to cover.

You could easily combine the first two sentences to tighten things up.

Take out "very"; it’s not necessary.

If you don’t combine the first two sentences, then tighten up the second. “The bikini showed off Rogue’s body to perfection.”


“Maybe sporting all this cleavage wasn’t such a good idea,” she thought to herself. “Tha guys are practically tripping over their tongues.”

Trying to dismiss the gawkers, she gently put down her sunglasses and her head drifted to one side as she tried to relax in the cool sunlight. Her mind wandered to a variety of things. However one thing stood out above the rest, her little…“encounter” with Scott. The past week, it had been the only thing she gave thought to. Just the thought of having him in her mouth again sent shivers down her spine. As she immersed herself with images of Scott’s member, an unnoticed shadow snuck up on Rogue.
“Hey, like, why don’t you put those things away?”

Immersing is like submerging, and it doesn’t quite fit here.

I’m not sure a shadow can sneak up on someone.

Rogue tilted her head. Through her shades, she noticed a short and thin brunette girl standing in front of her.

“What was that(comma) Kitty?’ Rogue asked.

“Your boobs, why don’t you put them away before one of they(the) guys pass out from lack of blood flow to the head.”

“Your (you're) just jealous that you can’t flaunt your boobs like I can,” the sassy gothic girl snapped back.

I'm getting a mixed idea of who Rogue is. She's a loner. She's got this new confidence and wears a sexy bikini, but she's unaware of how great she looks. But then when Kitty comes around suddenly she DOES know and she throws that it Kitty's face. I can't get a good hold of who this girl is.

All in all, you’ve got a good start. My advice is to:

PROOFREAD. There are a lot of careless errors that should be fixed. Not everyone is capable of proofreading their own work, so you might want to find a friend to help you out.

Tighten up your writing. You have a lot of words that aren't necessary. Like "She had just recently found out..." should be "She just found out..." Or "With new confidence about herself..." could be "With newfound confidence..." Extraneous words make for a bloated story. Think lean.

I hope this helps. Best of luck with your future writing!

 

[Phoenix646]

OMG!!......YOU WERE SO MEAN!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HAVE YOU NO SOUL!!!.....

i'm better now. Whisper, thank you very much. It's nice to have someone actually give constructive critisicm other than "THAT ROCKED!"

It's actually interesting that you found certain parts confusing, because i had someone review the first story of this series, and he said that he actually liked the story, depsite knowing knowing of X-Men.

So i have a little bit more of the story written out, could you review that as well? Or do i have to wait in line again?

Thanks again...

 

[Guest]

Just a quick addition: If you want to write Rogue's speech in dialect, 'I' would translate to 'Ah' rather than the lowercase. It will be slightly less confusing.

 

[Whispersecret]

You're welcome, P646.

As far as your other reviewer is concerned, I'm sure he's not as exacting as I can be. I'm a really picky bitch. LOL

You can't get in line unless it's the first 500 words of another story. I'm only doing openings.

 

[Whispersecret]

ladyphoenix

WARRIOR



The lady paced.

Nice opening. I immediately wonder why she’s pacing.

Back and forth, her path generally straight and clearly purposeful, she tried with all that was within her to distance herself from the fear. But pacing, while a fine use of energy, was a poor method of travel, serving no purpose other than to increase her agitation. Sometime after midday she broke stride, retreating to a chair. When she was fully disenchanted with the chair, she fussed at the fine, fresh linen cloth Aggie had laid upon the little dining table in the chamber. When the cloth was as straight as she was certain physics would allow, she went about smoothing her skirts, taking her hair down, combing it fully, re-pinning it upon her head, and polishing her mother’s pretty gold pin before fixing it between her breasts. When she was as certain of her appearance as it was possible to be, she stood at the southern window, looking out at the land in the opposite direction of that from which he would come.

“in the chamber” – I’d delete this. Not necessary.
“physics” – because of the style of writing, I’m making the assumption this early on that this is an historical piece, and I stumble just briefly here wondering if the use of the word is an anachronism. It may not be, but I still hit a little bump here.

Three passed, and four, and Aggie brought tea and biscuits and rich clotted cream. Mercy glared at the old woman, and for her trouble in reply received only the sound of a tsking tongue, as if she were no better than some troublesome foundling.

Three what?

I'd take out either "in reply" or "for her trouble."

“Dinna fret, luvey,” she chuckled in her own mix of native English and the Scottish she picked up here and there from the staff she managed.

“she chuckled” should be “she said, chuckling.” This is one of my pet peeves, but I can back it up with a well-known book on self-editing. People can’t laugh, chuckle, smile, etc. words. It’s physically impossible.

Also, make sure you ID that it’s Aggie talking there. There are two “shes” in the room. While I assume that I’m in Mercy’s POV, I haven’t actually heard her speak, so be sure to clarify just which woman as the English Scottish accent.

Tossing her head as if she had no care in the world, Mercy crossed her arms over her bosom. “What have I to fret over?” she snipped.

Not sure you can snip words. You can snip AT someone…

The heavy ring of keys that Aggie normally kept loosely fixed to her skirts, Mercy noted with some discouragement, were affixed to it this evening with the devil’s own grip of knots.

This sentence is awkward. I had to read it twice to figure out what “it” was. If it’s her skirts, shouldn’t it be “them?”

Setting her jaw, Mercy considered overpowering her much shorter, much older and much slower jailer and simply running off for parts unknown, but Aggie was hardly stupid. She no doubt had guards posted every ten steps down the tower stairs, in case her charge should attempt such a thing.

“Oh not a thing to worry you, then?” Aggie teased with a wry smile. She caught a quick glimpse of Mercy’s jaw tightening. Her young lady had a look in her eye now that made her think of horses set upon in some small space by raging fire. Trapped and wild. “Happy to know my girl’s not about to stir the house by runnin’. T’would set your father’s heart in a fine gallop.”

Comma after “Oh.”
This transition of POVs is just a tad rough.
“horses set upon in some small space by raging fire” – this is a little wordy. Can you trim it and still get the simile across?

Mercy rushed across the room toward her jailer and that blessed ring of freedom in the keys, but could not bring herself to try to change the course of fate. Instead of taking her freedom she flopped down into a stiff-backed chair, staring at the fire.

I am confused as to what happened. She rushed Aggie…and then what happened? Did they struggle? Did Aggie warn her off with a glare? There seems to be a jump in the action and I feel like I’m watching a DVD and the movie just skipped. Also “blessed ring of freedom in the keys” could be “blessed keys of freedom.” You seem to like those prepositional phrases. Hey, I’m guilty of the same exact thing.

“Yes, yes, old woman,” she hissed. “I know that my father would near curl into a nutshell and die a painful death were I not to do my duty. He and his eternally galloping heart. God’s teeth!”

I’m unfamiliar with the term “galloping heart,” so whatever info you’re trying to get across to me about Dad, has gone over my head.

Aggie straightened, hands on her narrow hips as she gave Mercy a good staring down. “No ‘Dear Aggie’ this night, or ‘Mother Aggie’, but ‘old woman’? So it shall be, Missy Mercy. I shall have to tell the young lord that his bride has a foul mood about her. Perhaps that will purchase you a night or two, eh? And make the waiting a greater burden still.”

Ignoring the nickname she hated, Mercy grabbed at the curled lion’s claws of the arms of the chair, looking up in panic. “He’s here, then?”

Aggie took some pity on the girl. “Nay, child. Nary a glimpse nor a whisper from the watch, but tonight was set for his coming, I am well certain of that.” Moving to the side of the chair, she cupped Mercy’s face in her well wrinkled hands. “Dinna fret, child. The young lord is a good man they say, and well heeled, now his uncle’s gone to perdition.”

“Aggie took some pity on the girl.” I want to know what moved her to pity. Was it the fear in her eyes? Some knowledge she has about what is to come?

Well-wrinkled. Well-heeled. I’d take out the first “well.”

Hating the way her voice shook, Mercy gazed up at her beloved Aggie in tearful pride. “I cannot bear it, surely. I wish that it were my heart galloping and stammering, Aggie dear, and not father’s, for I would rather die than do this thing.”

Sighing, Aggie patted the girl’s face again before giving her a reassuring smile and shuffling to the fire to set it burning high again. Mercy, as it was always her custom, came quickly to her side to get the heavier wood, but Aggie was glad to see she took care to keep the thick skirts of her new gown fresh from the ashes and dirt.

Delete “it was.” Not necessary.

“Child, ‘tis not such a bad thing, marriage.”

“So quick to say it, when you have never gone to the vows yourself,” Mercy teased back.

Aggie chuckled. “Aye, child, I have not. But ‘twas not because I thought it beneath me.”
Mercy shoved a last, large chunk of wood into the fire where Aggie pointed the poker then stood, brushing the dirt from her hands. “I do not think marriage beneath me,” she countered. “It is only men who are beneath me.”

Hmm. Mercy is teasing now? A moment before, she was on the verge of tears, ready to die instead of marry. Weird change of mood.

That sentence about the chunk of wood is awkwardly constructed.

Laughing, Aggie stirred the fire to wild, blazing life before putting the poker back in its place. “Mayhap,” she quipped sharply, “You shall quite enjoy having one beneath you.”
Turning from halfway to the window, Mercy gasped at the meaning of the old woman’s jibe. She knew, as she supposed all women knew, that they were to lie beneath their husbands in the marriage bed. But she had never even considered that the man might....

I think it should be “lay beneath,” not “lie beneath,” but I am never positive. Sometimes I’ll just avoid the lay/lie thing altogether.

This is well-written. I definitely have a feel for the atmosphere and setting. I get a good idea about the relationship between Aggie and Mercy. And yet, I’m not really hooked.

I found out why she was pacing. She’s afraid of marriage. But that’s not a very compelling problem to me. She says she’d rather die than get married? I kinda wanna smack her and say, “Big deal. Grow up.” (Sorry!)

I’m only slightly curious about what happens next, even though I love historicals and romance and sex, and this hints of all three. She’s a prisoner, and yet, I’m only mildly curious about why. Is there a way to intensify the mystery about why she’s being held against her will? I’ve sat here for a while and I can’t think of a way to up the page-turning factor, probably because I don’t know the whole story. But you know the story, so your mission will be to hook the reader more securely. Get him/her interested right away in Mercy’s situation.

Also, maybe my lack of interest stems from the fact that I’m not getting a clear picture of her character. She’s afraid enough to pace for hours and to seem like a trapped horse, but she runs hot and cold on this.

Also, from what Aggie says, her hubby to be is a nice guy. No real conflict. Yes, I think that’s it! There’s no conflict. Thank goodness. I couldn’t figure out what was missing. The only conflict you have is that she doesn’t want to get married because “men are beneath her.” That’s not strong enough. I need something MORE--either that she’s struggling with inside, or that is coming from the outside, like he’s got a reputation as an ogre or something. Am I making sense?

 

[Whispersecret]

GRAYMOUSE

Graymouse
Huh. Well, thanks so much for the genereous offer. Hopefully you haven't been too overwhelmed with submissions yet. I hate crappy editing as much as I hate crappy writing--my own or otherwise--but you do a damn fine job so I really can't pass this up, even if I do feel a bit like I'm sending my kindergardner off to get his ass whooped on the playground . Thanks a lot. Here it is, slightly over the 500 mark. Oh, and I swear this does become an erotic story.

It’s so funny that people feel they need to apologize for a lack of sex in the first 500 words. LOL. A little foreplay never hurt anyone!

Okay, to business then:

I’m taking a smoke break this morning, a fairly long one. Longer still when you consider that I don’t smoke. Not anymore, at least. But it gives me a chance to get out of the ICU waiting room and away from my mom, who is a two-dimensional ghost lately anyway. Not that you can blame her. Some people don’t do well with death.

The first two sentences made me chuckle. But then I begin not to like the character for being so callous about his mother’s illness. Yet, I remain open. Maybe he has a good reason…

There’s a bench outside the side door of the emergency room. The ground is littered with butts. On this particular morning, the sky above is flat and white and the leaves have gone dull brown on the trees lining the slope. It smells like smoke and rain, alternately fresh and stale. The nurses come out here between shifts and sit in the shelter that looks like a bus stop. I come too, often. Now I sit down and wait. On the circle drive that leads up from the road, a steady stream of ambulances and news vans roll in.

Nice details. This paragraph starts with five declarative sentences in a row, which gets a little too rhythmic for me, and your topics are a bit jumbled. I know it’s subtle, but I’m thinking you should describe the physical area, and then the other “sensual” input.

If it were me, I’d rearrange the sentence order here like this:

There’s a bench outside the side door of the emergency room. The ground is littered with butts. The nurses come out here between shifts and sit in the shelter that looks like a bus stop. I come too, often. Now I sit down and wait.

On this particular morning, the sky above is flat and white and the leaves have gone dull brown on the trees lining the slope. It smells like smoke and rain, alternately fresh and stale. On the circle drive that leads up from the road, a steady stream of ambulances and news vans roll in.

Also, this might be a good place to give us a little info about why there are news vans.

“Hey.”

The boy standing against the wall is so still I almost don’t see him. I hate being caught off-guard, so I come off sounding pissy and irritable. “What?”

He looks abashed. “Sorry. Do you have a light?” There is a cigarette in his hand, pinched between two raw, bloody knuckles. I frown and start rummaging through my jacket. My pockets are full of random crap—loose change, ticket stubs, ponytail holders, lip gloss—and it takes a while.

The bloody knuckles sentence is brilliant—pinched—GREAT verb, pure image in my mind.

On the other hand, this is the first hint I got that the narrator is female. I assumed male up to this point and so I really got a surprise here. Can you clarify the sex of the character earlier?

“Here.”

(new para.) I toss it over and watch as he nestles the filter between his lips. The lower one is split and bleeding. I notice a bloody welt along this kid’s temple and several rusty spatterings on his gray tee shirt. He rubs his cheek.

(new para.) “What the hell happened to you?” I say finally. “Not the school bus thing.”

Again, just wonderful images here, great verbs.

I think you should use “spatters” not “spatterings.”

Okay, I’m noticing that you need to be more generous with your indentations. I’ve divided this from one paragraph into three. It’s difficult to know when to start a new paragraph with dialogue. If someone talks, you can sometimes keep the subsequent actions in the same paragraph, but the action should really “go” directly with what was said. Yes, the tossing of the lighter "goes" with her saying "Here," but the tossing goes MORE with the rest of the description of the kid. Am I making sense?

“Huh? No.”

(New para.) He pauses to flick the lighter and takes a long draw, eyes flickering self-consciously. I watch and for a moment I’m jealous. Then he turns, limps the ten or so feet between us, and drops the Bic in my palm. At this distance, I can see the faint hint of stubble along his jaw, and decide he’s probably too old for school buses. At least by a year or two. He flops his lanky body against the brick wall and tries to shrug, I guess, but it comes out looking stilted and pained.

(New para.) “We got mugged,” he sighs and spits red onto the cement.

Capitalization on Bic. For those of you who don’t know, you have to capitalize brand names, like Xerox, Lean Cuisine, etc.

You can’t sigh words. It should be, “We got mugged,” he said with a sigh.

“We?”

(New para.) My eyes catch motion. A seagull picks about the base of the trash bin. I toss it a chip and it squawks once, snatches up the crumb, and disappears in a blur of dirty gray. There’s no ocean, but this place has lots of gulls.

“Yeah. My . . . my brother and me.”

I scan the watery sky, but for once it’s empty. “Where at?”

“Rogers Park.”

“That place is so ghetto. Figures. How bad is he?”

“Bad. He’s in there.” He tips his head towards the door.

(new para) Around front, another ambulance careens up and splits the air with the banshee wail of sirens. Muffled footsteps crunch over asphalt and voices murmur; someone is shouting something. We listen in silence for several minutes. Down in the lot, the Channel 2 news van has erected its transmission tower on the roof. It looks like a giant metal skeleton against the white sky.

Not sure something can careen UP. I'm sure they can careen AROUND.

"on the roof" is non-specific. Clarify that it's the roof of the van.

“You picked a bad day. It’s never like this here.”

“No kidding.”

“They’re pretty overwhelmed, huh?”

A nod.

“Any idea when they’ll look at you?”

He manages half a wry smile. “They’re only taking criticals right now. Maybe this afternoon.”

“Jeez. Why don’t you go home and wait?”

An ash drops from the tip of the cigarette. The smoke ascends in a silver spiral. The sea gull has returned, circling and circling in the washed-out sky and finally it lands again beside the trash bin.

(new para) “Can’t,” he replies, giving another apathetic shrug. “My brother’s got the keys and he’s . . . “ He trails off. “Well. They’re working on him.”

I watch as he takes one last draw, the ember glowing orange and bright before disappearing beneath the scuffed toe of his shoe. Where are this kid’s parents? He looks at me and I see I’m mistaken. It’s not apathy. In the dark eyes that regard me, a well of cold, dumb shock looms. His hair is disheveled and looks slept-on, although I doubt he’s slept. Where it falls across his forehead, it mats in the gore along his temple. I don’t know him and I shouldn’t care (comma here) but I do, at least a little. Or maybe I’m just bored.

I'd take out the question "Where are this kid's parents?" because it makes the next sentence confusing. I think, oh, she's mistaken about his age or something related to his parents. The parents issue takes me just a little too far away from your reference to his apathetic shrug.

Well, your style is rich and your word choice is just wonderful. You remind me of one of my favorite Lit authors, Gaucho. I like the main character, but still want to find out what the deal is with the mother. I want to know why the kid hesitated before saying it was his brother. I want to know what really happened to him. That's good that I'm so curious.

The biggest hurdle I think you face is paragraphing. I wish I could explain more specifically how to correctly do this, but I'm afraid with me, it's largely instinctive.

I hope this helps.

 

[Graymouse]

Hey, thanks so much. This is exactly what I needed.

About the paragraph structure. It shouldn't be too hard for me to work on fixing it. I think I used to write them more in the sytle you suggest, but for some reason I kept getting told that I split my paragraphs too much. Mind you this was by people in, say, intro to fiction classes and stuff, so I guess I shouldn't have listened to them . At any rate, I think I can attempt to fix the problem.

Now, I would argue that it's possible to "sigh" short phrases, but for the sake of avoiding conflict, I'll just change it.

God, I totally knew the assumption was going to be that the character was male. I don't know how I do that--I mean, Christ, I'm female, I should be able to write female POV, right? Is it that the callous attitude about death/ the mother's emotions seems like a more masculine attitude? I don't know. I put the stuff about her pocket contents in to help establish that she was a she, but I guess you're right, there has to be something earlier. I'll think of something.

As far as why she is sort of callous about the hospital and her mom, etc.--I try to elaborate on this later. This story is inspired by some personal experiences of mine--essentially, if you spend enough time waiting around a hospital you eventually become numb to a lot of it, which is what I'm going for here. Hopefully, her motivations will become clear.

I really like the restructuring you did of that early paragraph. Some stuff is so obvious and yet I still miss it.

Anyway, thanks a lot. This has been very helpful. Now, if I only had time to finish writing it . . .

 

[Whispersecret]

I"m glad I could help.

Okay. You've convinced me. I'm revising my personal rule about sighing words. I actually tried it. I can sigh single words, like "Yeah," or "Okay." Surprise surprise! I never actually tried it. But something like, "Okay, I guess I can take out the garbage," he sighed. That wouldn't work.

As for establishing gender, what if she had some thought like, "I was already worried about breast cancer since in ran in my family. I didn't need to add emphysema to that too." Something like that? Or she could be wearing a skirt or her bra strap could be falling down. Maybe that would work.

 

[PaulX35]

It is, great work!

Hey, everyone, is this working? I want this thread to help more than just the individual writers. In other words, I hope that Ehlanna will get something from, not just her personal critique, but all the others as well. (I only picked her name because she was the guinea pig.)

Yes, this is instructive critique for many more than just the author. Your examples and suggestions for improvement show very clearly what your critique is about, and how something actually improves before your eyes.

Keep the good work going

 

[Whispersecret]

Josh Greifer

Let me apologize for the long wait, Josh. I hope this critique isn't too late to be helpful.

Edge Game

Joe had met up with Jessica in the College Library. They were both taking the same psychology course. They’d seen each other before, and had progressed quickly from nodding glances, through exchanging “Hi”s, to chats about coursework over café lattes. They got on well together, Joe thought. He wasn’t experienced enough in reading body language to detect any signs of attraction. She was probably simply a nice, friendly girl, he decided, so he would keep it casual till he knew her a little better.

You’ve got three sentences in a row that start “They,” and it’s just a bit rhythmic to my writer’s ear.

They got on well together, Joe thought. This is kooky. If you really want this to be Joe’s thought, you need to make it first person, present tense. (We get on well together, Joe thought.) But I don’t really get the feeling he’s thinking this AT THE MOMENT, so I’d consider nixing the entire sentence.

I’d concentrate on hooking the reader here in this first paragraph if you can. There’s nothing really HAPPENING here. Can you start with action and give us this background info later?

“Hey, come over and have something to eat later, (period, not a comma) We take turns doing the cooking at my place. It’s my turn tonight,” said Jessica wiping the foamed milk from her lips. “My house mate Sue always has her weird boyfriend round these days, and I hate being on my own with those two. If you’re there I won’t feel like I’m doing it just for them.”

“Well, glad to be able to square the triangle,” said Joe.

(New para. The thoughts are separate from his dialogue.)What a jerk, he thought. He would never shake off his ‘geek’ label with comments like that. Maybe he should change his major to Psychology, like Jessica.

I’m not sure who’s the jerk. The weird boyfriend, or Joe calling himself a jerk. Also, jerk makes me think more along the lines of a person who is mean or cruel. If he’s just saying stupid things, then I think of him more as an idiot.

He’d chosen Cognitive Science because of the AI course, but had recently found himself losing interest in his adolescent obsession with computer programming. He found the psychology course a lot more interes(t)ing. It had a lot more female students, too.

For those of us LONG out of school, can your remind us what AI means?

“Cool. See you around seven then. You can help me make a start on my course essay if you like. I could use some help with it, to be honest.”

“Sure. Seven.” So that’s what she thought of him. Useful.

He arrived at the house. It was a small terraced house in a long row, typical of the student accommodation found in Brighton.

Jessica let him in. Her eyes were streaming with tears.

“Hi, Joe. Sorry. Chopping onions. Come in. Sue and Carl are in the living room.”

Joe followed Jessica through to the kitchen, not yet ready to introduce himself to the others. He sat at the table and lit a cigarette. She plucked it from his lips, took a big drag, and replaced it in his mouth before carrying on with her onion chopping.

I like that cigarette thing. Shows her straightforward nature. Perhaps this is a good place to show his character some more as well. What’s his reaction? Does he notice how her lips wrap around the filter? Is he taken aback?

“So, what’s your essay about, Jess?”

“The title is ‘Are Taboos Culturally Defined?’”

“Meaning, what: Are there limits to socially acceptable behavior that don’t come from society, but are sort of 'programmed in' to people?”

“Yeah, I think so. There’s a reading list.”

Carl had entered the kitchen, unnoticed. He flicked the ash from the spliff he was smoking into the unwashed cereal bowl that was serving as an ashtray. He didn’t pass the spliff on to Joe.

“Why don’t we find out? I suggest we play the Edge Game later. Jess?” Carl stared at the back of Jessica's head, while she lit the gas ring with Joe's lighter.

Carl is making a suggestion, not asking a question, so replace the question mark with a period. Is there a significance to him staring at the back of her head?

“The ‘Edge Game’? Is that like ‘Truth or Dare’?” asked Joe.

I’m not sure you need the quote marks around the names of the games. Especially since you don’t when Carl talks about the game.

Carl answered him, but continued to stare at Jessica. “Yup. So have you two fucked yet?”

Carl is coming across as an asshole to me. Hopefully that’s your intention.

Jessica eyed Joe with a ‘see what a weirdo I have to put up with’ expression. She busied herself with a clove of garlic.

“Have you two fucked yet?” Carl repeated the question, his intonation unchanged.

Jessica smiled wryly. “Carl, you fucking child, do you mind leaving us alone.?” She added to Joe, “He’s always doing that. Philosophy student. Tries to get down to brass tacks. No idea how to talk normally, so he makes up for it by trying to dominate the conversation with provocative statements. Typical ‘only child’. Trying to outdo Daddy all the time.”

“So you haven’t. Well, why not?”

This last line needs attribution. I can figure out that it’s Carl speaking, but the confusion briefly takes me out of the story.

I love Jess. Her character is coming through quite clearly through dialogue and action. Mostly dialogue. Carl too. However, I’m getting a fuzzy picture of Joe, which is strange, considering he’s the main character.

I think you might consider starting your story when Joe arrives at Jess’s apartment. The story, as is, starts a bit slowly. If you look, you’ll see it’s a lot of exposition – how they met, the development of their friendship, the info about the housemate. The only real action is that they make the date. I’d go straight to the date. When Carl and Sue are mentioned, THAT’S when you explain that they’re boyfriend and housemate. See if you can weave the info about her major and his into her conversation when he asks her about the essay. (If that info is even necessary to the story at all.)

I haven’t done any research on the subject, but I suspect most readers know within the first couple of paragraphs whether they’re going to backclick or not, so you have to hook them fast. Perhaps a statement about the Edge Game as a tease first. Or perhaps even start with,

“So, have you two fucked yet?”

Just a thought.

I hope this all helps. Again, I’m sorry about the long wait!

 

[Whispersecret]

margo_x_x

Okay, Margo, like I said in my pm, I'm so sorry about the long wait. No more dawdling. Here we go!

I staggered to my feet, as the mother of all migraines crushed my skull.

“My head is killing me,” I whined. “Doesn’t anybody care?”

I could hear heavy breathing and the throaty moans of lust, but I couldn’t see them. Part of the problem was my blurred vision and the spots in front of my eyes. The fact that I was facing the wrong way didn’t help either.

Rusty gears gnashed in my brain as I tried to think, “Where am I? What am I doing? Where the hell are all my clothes?”

“Smack!”

If this is a sound effect, I’d use italics, not quotation marks, which should be used mainly for dialogue.

I like "throaty moans of lust."

…but I couldn’t see them – The “them” technically refers to the moans and breathing, which doesn’t make sense.

Something got me right in the back of my leg. I almost went down, but as soon as I got my rubber legs under me, I whirled and started cussing like a sailor.

“What the fuck do you think…”

I thought the reaction was a little extreme, but perhaps it’s because you say, “got me in the back of my leg,” which doesn’t suggest that much force. Maybe you should say, “struck” or “hit.” Also, perhaps you could say how the whirling to see what had hit you made the pains in your head even worse, which would definitely cause you to cuss like a sailor.

“Yeah baby, yeah. Give it to me (comma here, or a period and a new sentence) give it to me. Uh, uh, uh.”

I’m not a fan of moans and groans inside the quotation marks (uh uh uh.) I’d rather see a sentence describing the rhythmic grunts. But, that’s just personal opinion.

It was my sister. She was on the floor. She was kicking her feet like an insane frog and I had to jump back before she got me again.

I’d reword the sentences to avoid having three “— was” sentences in a row. Perhaps:

It was my sister. She was on the floor, kicking her legs like an insane frog. I had to jump back before she nailed me again.

Also, maybe a little more detail to make it clear she’s fucking a guy. Is she on her back? I assume so because of how she’s kicking her legs, but I don’t have a real clear picture.

“Carol?” I said.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh.” She was so intent on what she had between her legs, she acted as if I wasn’t there.

Again, I’d remove “ugh ugh ugh.”

“Carol!”

I cringed as my own voice made my head throb.

“Almost there, almost there.” she said.

This last sentence should be:

”Almost there, almost there,” she cried. If you’re going to have the dialogue tag AFTER the dialogue, you need a comma instead of the period. Also, this seems to be a rather intense utterance, so perhaps “cried” is more accurate than “said.”

It was a low, guttural rasp. Hard to believe that sound came from my sister. Harder still to believe how she looked and what she was doing.

I’d put this paragraph up with the dialogue, since it’s describing how Carol said what she said.

Her hair was a fright, soaked with sweat and flying around like the Gorgons. Every inch of her body glistened with perspiration as she jiggled and bounced. The man’s leg, sticking out from under her twitched spasmodically, as she pounded her naked body on him like a sex-crazed animal.

…like the Gorgons – Is that like the Gorgon’s (hair?) If so, you need an apostrophe to show that it’s a possessive. (Wasn’t there just the one Gorgon? Like there was only the one Sphinx?)

Okay, I see now that Carol is on top. I’m having trouble understanding how she can be on top and still kick her legs that enthusiastically. Maybe I’m a spaz, but when I’m on top, I’m kneeling, and it would be impossible for me to kick.

Carol’s sister seems surprised at Carol’s behavior, which is puzzling to me. If she’s at this orgy, then why would she surprised at her sister fucking some guy on the floor? Perhaps my confusion is only a result of the fact that this is only the first 500 words. If so, never mind. However, I am now realizing that I don't have any backstory at all. Usually I see a problem with too MUCH backstory. LOL.

“Argh, here it comes, here it comes.” Even her toes were clenching.

This seems like an exclamation, which merits an exclamation point.

I like that fragment, “Even her toes were clenching.” Gives me a vivid image.

“Carol, what…”

“Arrrrrgggghhhhh.”

She had just jumped up and thrown herself back down on him.

Why the “had?” It can be She jumped up and threw herself back down on him.

“Watch it,” I yelled, but it was too late.

Her feet whipped past my dodging body, my feet got tangled in the Sybian machine’s wires, and I crashed to the floor in a tangle of my own arms and legs.

Just for fun, what if you didn’t mention right away that it was a Sybian machine? What if you just say, My feet got tangled in some wires…? Then, when she realizes, it’s more of an “Oh, my!” moment. Just an idea...

“I’m commmmiiiiinnnggg!”

If it were my story, I’d just make her say, ”I’m coming! I’m not a fan of the prolonged orgasmic cry.

My hackles rose as Carol’s strainedscreech plunged a dull knife into my left temple. Her staccato, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” twisted the blade in my brain.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m coming!” another girlapostrophe, again to show the possessives voice started, and then a third. Their combined yowls were enough to peel the paint off the walls.

“Make it stop!”

“Dull knife” is a bit cliché. Can you think of some other sharp implement that isn’t used quite so often?

I pressed my hands on my ears as I sprawled across the sex machine. The controller for the machine sat clearly in the center of my vision, as countless black and white dots clouded everything else.

“Hello,” I said as I turned it on.

“Ahhh.” The motor started and the middle thing started moving.

You’re supposed to ride it like a horse, not lie across it with the thingy in your bellybutton. I didn’t care. The rest of me still felt like I’d escaped from a clothes dryer, but right then, my bellybutton felt great.

I don’t think you need the “Ahhh.”

I think HERE is where it might be better to explain that it’s a Sybian. She could realize here what the machine is for, because of her bellybutton stimulation.

I’m not sure the clothes dryer comparison works. I’m trying to make the connection between a migraine and clothes dryer, and not succeeding. The dryer makes me think dizzy, not migraine.

That last line is funny.

Overall…

I smiled here and there at some humorous bits. Watch the apostrophes. If I were reading this for real, I’d certainly read on to see what happens to her and if she gets rid of her headache. I think you have a good start here. You definitely have a humorous, staccato style.

 

[JAYCE73]

Here ya go!

Two days before our vacation to Tahiti, the North East got hit with a massive snow storm. At the end, New York as well as the entire area was under fifteen inches of snow. The airports, highways and tunnels leading into the city, were all shut down.
Linda and I had nothing to do but, well, you know.

Linda laid on the floor under me, legs spread, arms wrapped around me. I drove my male member in her deep. Twisting and gyrating in and out of her. Our lips locked and we deeply, and meaningfully kissed. I lost myself, my eyes were closed, my thoughts on her and how I could please her. I broke from the kiss and softly told her I was going to cum. I pushed deep in her, filling her vagina with all my semen. I leaned down and sucked on her neck. After I was done, I remained between her legs, and kissed and sucked on her neck.
I leaned up and leaned on the sofa. Linda remained on the floor, and looked at me. Her legs spread and she rubbed her vagina, signaling me that she wanted more.
"I'd rather be fucking on a tropical beach." I said

"So would I, but we're here for the time being."

I always looked for new and hot ways to make love to her. But it seemed that we had done everything, everywhere. I looked out on the balcony, that overlooked Broadway. The snow was lightly dropping, the balcony had about ten inches of snow on it. I just stared out. I stood up and walked over to the balcony, and opened the French Doors. A stiff breeze hit me, and I my entire body instantly felt cold. I didn't have to say anything to Linda. She got up, and walked out with me. We steeped into the freezing snow, with our nude bodies. She moved in front of me, then kneeled, and put my cold hard cock in her mouth and began sucking it. I looked up and down the street, it was dead. People could probable see us from other apartments, but at this point, we didn't give a fuck.

I moved Linda's head of me, then I moved down to the cold floor. I gently laid her in the snow, and I spread her legs. I moved between her and slowly, entered her. We needed to work up some heat, so I began to move faster, and harder in her. I ran my hands through her hair, and pulled. Steam began to radiate from our bodies. Our breath was cold as soft grunts and moans were made as we passionately fucked. As I rammed in her, her body became covered with snow. Seeing the heat from our bodies, and her hardened cold nipples, really turned me on. I felt I was nearing climax. I tried to hold back, but I couldn't. Within a few minutes, I came. I pulled out of her, and moved to her face. I put my cock on her cold lips and let my grip go. I came in her mouth, and I grabbed her wet hair as I released. I leaned up and pulled her to me, we then quickly ran into the apartment, and shut the doors. Our bodies were soaked and we both shivered from the cold. I walked quickly into the bathroom and ran water for a hot bath. A few minutes later, we sat in the hot water together. I held her tight in my arms, and gently kissed her neck. I moved my right hand down between her legs, and entered her vagina with my middle finger.

"So, if we don't get out of here, what are we going to do for three weeks?" I asked

"What do we normally do?… Talk and fuck. Talk and fuck."

"The story of us."

"You don't like the story?"

"Why did you ask that?"

"The way you said it, like being with me is a chore, or un- pleasurable."

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that."
She didn't say anything. She leaned her head back on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
About a half hour later we got out and dried off. We both laid in bed, and kissed. Which lead to us making love until the morning. Why do I feel like I am so over sexed? Men think about sex, every 5.5 seconds. They want it at will. They want a woman to fulfill their deepest fantasy. They dream about a sex life, were sex was a daily occurrence. I had all of those things, but still was not truly happy. I wanted to be happy, with her. But I wasn't. I don't know. I just don't know.

Linda pushed my head between her legs, I began to eat her pussy. I still got such a rush when I'm between her legs. I entered her with my tongue. I licked in her, hitting the walls, and her clitoris. I went in her as deep as I could. Eventually I tasted her fluids in my mouth. Her legs clamped around my head, her hands held my head tight. When she was done, I moved up and entered her and pumped her fast I came almost immediately. I pushed deep on her and came. I then laid beside her.
She moved over and laid on top of me. I ran my hands through her hair, and caressed her skin.

"Why is it so hard for you, to let me know what your thinking? I know something is wrong, but I just don't what it is."

"Why do you keep saying there is something wrong?"

"Because I know you! You're not the same. When we make love, your body is there but your mind isn't."

"I'm not happy. There you have it."
She leaned up, and slid to the foot of the bed.

"Why? I thought, I made you happy. I thought you loved me."

"I do, but, I just feel so empty. You're what I've waited for. You're what I want, and need. I just can't figure out why I am so, unhappy, inside."

"So what do want to do?"

"I don't want to leave you. God, if I did that, I would probable become BI-polar. I just need to talk."

"I don't understand. Your unhappy, because you don't talk about… what? What do you need to talk about?"

"Us, Linda. Us."

"What about us?"

"I just can't get over the fact, that, I live a life that is so different from what I've been taught. It's killing me Linda. Every time I make love to you, my conscience stabs me all over, because I know I'm wrong."

"How can it be wrong to express how you feel towards someone you love? We love each other, so that is all that matters. Would it be different if we got married?"

"Yes, because that is the way it should be."

"Well let's just get married. If you can deal with my career for four more years, than let's do it."

"I'll wait."
She looked at me and took a deep breath.

"Your confusing me. You tell me what you want, I agree to do the things needed to try to make you happy, and you brush me away."

"I'm not brushing you off. I just need to think."

"ABOUT WHAT? You have a FUCKING life that most men would die for. YOU HAVE A WOMAN THAT IS WILLING TO MAKE CHANGES,TO MAKE YOU HAPPY. WHAT DO YOU NEED TO THINK ABOUT?"

"I don't know."

"You need to see a shrink."
She moved off the bed and walked over to the window.

"Their plowing the streets." She said
I reached over to the clock radio and flipped on to the news station.

"1010 Wins News time at the tone, 10am. And now for the 1010 Wins Accuweather Forecast: By tomorrow we will have highs of forty degrees. The storm has passed over us, and for the next five days, we will have clear and sunny skies with highs in to the fifties. I'm John Johnson and that's the Accuweather forecast.
It looks like all major airports will be back in Operation by Tomorrow. So if your heading out, to some tropical island, you can do so by tomorrow."
I click the radio off. I looked over at Linda, as she stood by the window. The way the bright light that beamed off the snow, and into the window hit her body, made her look like a porcelain doll. I got up and walked over to her, and wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. I then kissed her neck. She then turned around and looked at me.

"Listen, just like I have a lot to deal with, concerning your career. You have to deal with my insecurities and my conscience."

"The conscience I think I can deal with, but I can't understand why you are so insecure. You have no need to be insecure."

"I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything"
She walked over to the bed, and sat at the edge. I walked over and sat beside her.

"We need to pack. We have to be in Newark by five am tomorrow morning."

"How much are you packing?"

"Basically, just a few skirts, and sandals."

"That's it?"

"Most of the time, I'm going to be nude, so there is no need to pack a lot."

"I have dreamed so much of the day, when I could walk on the beaches of Bora Bora, with a beautiful nude woman."

"Another fantasy fulfilled."

"I'm running out of things to fantasize about."

"You'll think of some more. When we come back, I'll have to leave you in La."

"Where will you be going?"

"I have some trade shows I have to do. I'll be away for about a month."

"Wow. It's going to be hard being alone."

"I don't get you. One minute you're saying your un-happy with me, and the next minute, your telling me it will be hard being without me. Your either happy with me, or not, which is it?"

"It's not you."

"WELL WHAT THE FUCK IS IT? I CAN'T GO THROUGHT THESE EMOTINONAL HIGHS AND LOW'S WITH YOU. WE NEED TO GET SOME STABILITY, AND QUCK."

"Or?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Linda, we are both Fucked up people. So, I just guess we have to deal with each others quirks."

"Quirks are not putting the toilet seat down, and chewing with your mouth open. That, I can deal with. This,… I don't know what to say to you to get you out of what ever you're going through. I don't know WHAT you're going through. There comes a point where you have to move on, stop living in the past, and just get the FUCK on with your life. You were raised different, you have a conscience that kills you, I did not COME AFTER YOU. YOU WANTED ME! So if you're conscience is killing you because you live a life of sin, it's not MY FALT. YOU CHOSE TO DO SO."

"You didn't have to be so harsh."

"Yes I did. Because I walking around, feeling horrible, because I'm thinking I did something to make you feel this way. But I'm not doing it any more. I did not mess up your life. We are grown ass adults, we make grown up decisions, and we have to live with the consequences of those decisions. You made a decision to fall in love with a woman that did not live the way you do. And the consequence of that decision is a guilty conscience. If you can't live with the decision and consequence, then pack your shit and leave. But if you decide to stay, GET THE FUCK OVER IT. I am not going to live with a man, that will make me feel bad. The choice is yours Jason. What do you want to do?"
"I can't leave you."

"Why?"

"Because, I'm like addicted to you."

"YOU ARE SO FULL OF CRAP! Why can't you leave? Say it."

"Say what?"

"You men are all the same. You're afraid to commit. That's what it all boils down to. Your afraid. You've told me you love, and I believed it. But now, that you have to prove it, your bluff has be called, you can't put up."

"That's not true."

"Well than prove it."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Show me you love me. Show me, you want to spend the rest of your life with me."

"What? What do you want me to do?"

"Have you told your family and friends what I do for a living?"

"HELL NO!"

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do. You're embarrassed. You're embarrassed to say, that you are in love with a woman who is in porn. THAT'S what your fighting with. Your afraid of what others will think."



I shook my head in agreement.

"If that's it. If that's what it is, what the cause of your emotional struggle, then Jason, I can't change my past. I can't change who I am right now. If you TRULY love me, than you will accept that. If your family and friends TRULY love you, they'll accept who you've fallen in love with. Going into this relationship, Jason, you should have known, it would not be easy."

"Your right, your right."

"Now you see why, women in the porn industry, only date those in the business?"

"Do you regret allowing me to be here with you?"

"No. Because you have given me a reason to change."

"Don't throw me out."

"I was, but now that I know what your problem is, I …we can work this out. Do you really think, that if you brought me to a family function or introduced me to some more of your friends, that I would embarrass you?"

"No."

"So what did you think?"

"Just the thought of them finding out."

"That's understandable. Did you think I would get mad at you because your embarrassed?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not."
I looked at her and smiled. I then leaned over and kissed her.

"You want to make love?" she asked
"Not really."
I leaned back on the bed and closed my eyes. She laid on top of me, and kissed my neck.

"I love you Jay."

"I love you too."

"Just talk. If you have something on your mind, just talk."

"Is it too late for me to accept your offer of sex?"

"No."
She leaned up and took my cock and put it in her. She slowly moved up and down. I closed my eyes and just felt the feeling. I ran my hands down her legs that were straddled on me. God! I thought, what would I do without her? What? I would miss her body, her company, her voice, her laughter so much.
I reached up and squeezed her tits lightly. She began to move faster, gyrating, and bucking on. Seeing her face, and the intense look she had, while fucking me, turned me on so much.
I felt myself, coming. I jolted my hips up, and held her tight by the hips as I exploded in her. She leaned down and kissed my neck. Her body still moving up and down on me. I could feel the cum running down the bottom of my shaft. I grabbed her ass tight and as she moved. Our lips locked and we kissed passionately. Our tongues played together as our mouths locked. We exchanged breaths our saliva mixed. I was in heaven. My heart beat faster and faster, as I came closer to another climax. She moved faster on me. She leaned up and ran her hands through her hair. Her mouth open, letting out soft moans of ecstasy. Her eyes opened and she looked down at me, with a look of seduction. She grabbed her chest and squeezed, and rubbed it. She then leaned down and rested her hands on my chest, and began to grind harder and deeper on me.
I came in her again. I closed my eyes, and moaned lightly in pleasure. She continued moving on me. A few minutes later, she came, then collapsed on my chest.
Her breathing was heavy, but after a few minutes it became normal.

"Play with my hair."
I ran my hand through her hair, which made her fall asleep. I was soon after.
We woke up around two AM. Our flight left at five, which means we had to be there by three. We were able to find a cab, and got to the airport on time.
Thirteen hours later, we landed in Honolulu. After a two hour lay over, we left for Papeete, Tahiti. Thirty five minutes after that, we landed in Bora Bora. By the time we got to our hotel, we just were ready to sleep for about two days. Which was cool, because we would be here for three weeks. And let me tell you, the three weeks, were unbelievable.

 

[Whispersecret]

YO, JAYCE! Read this!

Go back and read the first post of this thread, please.

 

[NoJo]

Thanks!

WS,

Thanks for your critique of my humourless alter ego Josh Greifer's story, 'Edge Game'.

He never finished writing it . I might go back and rework the beginning. Your criticism, as usual, was right on the button (and also very polite!). It's actually made me want to rework it, because underneath I think there was a good story, which I botched in the intro that you critiqued:

The story was to continue: Carl and Sue turn out to be the sort who get off on watching each other fuck other people. They induce Joe and Jess to join in the "edge game", and the only pair of people at the end of the story who haven't fucked in view of the others are Carl and Sue. Joe suddenly guesses that they're actually brother and sister and coerces them to fuck, which they've been secretly wishing for but could never bring themsleves to do. (I guess not much of that comes out in the first 500 words!)

Joe.

 

[Whispersecret]

Re: Thanks!

You're quite welcome. I was wondering if "Josh" had disappeared. What a revelation that it was YOU. LOL.

As for what you said about the story not coming out in the first 500 words...of course not. The first 500 isn't the place for all that to come out. The joy is in revealing that. At least, that's what I think. Otherwise your story would only BE 500 words.

Also, you didn't botch anything. That's why some famous person said, "Stories aren't written. They're re-written."

--

JAYCE, did you read my post? Did you read the "rules?" I'm finding it hard to want to work an hour or more on your 500 words when you seem to be ignoring my request.

 

[margo_x_x]

I feel terrible. I just became aware that you’d done my 500 words. You must think I’m an ungrateful hag for not responding. The only thing I can do is use the time-honored tradition of blaming the injured party for my own shortcomings: It was so long ago that I forgot.

Several of your suggestions were fixed before I submitted it, such as quotation marks around sound effects and such. I’m saddened that you don’t approve of prolonged orgasmic cries. They are one of the few things I write that I feel confident I am spelling correctly.

Story:
I could hear heavy breathing and the throaty moans of lust, but I couldn’t see them. Part of the problem was my blurred vision and the spots in front of my eyes. The fact that I was facing the wrong way didn’t help either.

Whispersecret:
I like "throaty moans of lust."

Margo:
I think I got that from a story by Alex De Kok. He had a “gurgle” in there somewhere too, and I loved it so much, I decided to honor him by stealing it.

Whispersecret:
…but I couldn’t see them – The “them” technically refers to the moans and breathing, which doesn’t make sense.

Margo:
Picky, picky, picky.

Should be: “…but I couldn’t see their source,” huh. Thanks.

Story:
Something got me right in the back of my leg. I almost went down, but as soon as I got my rubber legs under me, I whirled and started cussing like a sailor.

“What the fuck do you think…”

Whispersecret:
I thought the reaction was a little extreme, but perhaps it’s because you say, “got me in the back of my leg,” which doesn’t suggest that much force. Maybe you should say, “struck” or “hit.” Also, perhaps you could say how the whirling to see what had hit you made the pains in your head even worse, which would definitely cause you to cuss like a sailor.

Margo:
Really? And here I thought chasing someone around the house with a frying pan for unnecessarily rattling ice cubes would only be extreme if I got him cornered. Silly me. Ah, yes. “Hit” would be a better word than “got,” wouldn’t it?

Story:
“Yeah baby, yeah. Give it to me, give it to me. Uh, uh, uh.”

Whispersecret:
I’m not a fan of moans and groans inside the quotation marks (uh uh uh.) I’d rather see a sentence describing the rhythmic grunts. But, that’s just personal opinion.


Margo:
You don’t like prolonged orgasmic cries, sound effects, or moans and groans. I have to agree that they belong in the same category as other comic book standards!!!???, but what are some good alternatives? This might be a good topic for general discussion.

Story:
My hackles rose as Carol’s strained screech plunged a dull knife into my left temple. Her staccato, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” twisted the blade in my brain.

Whispersecret:
“Dull knife” is a bit cliché. Can you think of some other sharp implement that isn’t used quite so often?

Margo:
“A frozen sliver of leftover salmon steak,” “A crushed drumstick bone,” That rotisserie thing that you can “Set it and forget it? Hmm. How about a wooden stake made out of old fence posts that gives you splinters too?

Frankly, I can’t think of anything that more accurately describes what sinks into your temple at those times than a dull knife. I think we see eye to eye on clichés. I avoid them like the plague, so your comment was right on the money. The problem is, if someone came up with something better, quick as a wink, it too would become a cliché so fast it would make your head spin.

Story:
I pressed my hands on my ears as I sprawled across the sex machine. The controller for the machine sat clearly in the center of my vision, as countless black and white dots clouded everything else.

“Hello,” I said as I turned it on.

“Ahhh.” The motor started and the middle thing started moving.

You’re supposed to ride it like a horse, not lie across it with the thingy in your bellybutton. I didn’t care. The rest of me still felt like I’d escaped from a clothes dryer, but right then, my bellybutton felt great.

Whispersecret:
I don’t think you need the “Ahhh.”

Margo:
Spot on. I think I was trying to say something more like:
“The motor started, the middle thing started moving, and my dry mouth moistened as I moaned with relief.”

Whispersecret:
I think HERE is where it might be better to explain that it’s a Sybian. She could realize here what the machine is for, because of her bellybutton stimulation.

Margo:
I like your idea of introducing the Sybian here instead of earlier. Subtle gems like that are why you get buried with work every time you offer to do stuff like this.


Whispersecret:
I’m not sure the clothes dryer comparison works. I’m trying to make the connection between a migraine and clothes dryer, and not succeeding. The dryer makes me think dizzy, not migraine.

Margo:
Yeah, I agree. It was the best I could come up with at the time, and I was going to get back to it. Never did, and still haven’t come up with a winner. What do you call a block, when calling it a “writers block” would be putting on airs?

Thanks for giving this the once over. I know I’m not the only one who’s picked up a lot of good stuff from reading your comments on the various stories submitted. Don’t ever go away.

 

[Whispersecret]

Thanks for the compliments. I appreciate it. That makes me wanna get to Delicate Sea's 500 tonight. I think she's the last in line.

Oh, and I practically TOLD you to blame me for the long lag. I'm the one who feels bad for taking so long.

You're the first "victim" who made me laugh with her rebuttal. LOL.

 

[Whispersecret]

Delicate Sea's "The Game"

Gee, Whisper, is it possible for you to get to my critique sometime soon, please? It's been a while since you've posted on this thread, and I was wondering if you'd forgotten about it.

Best wishes,

Your pal, Josh (akasubjoe)

LOL. Well, look what I found earlier on the thread. I must be getting senile.

----

All right, now to Delicate Sea's work. She's been so patient, as have you all.

Scott and I had been in a monogamous relationship for just over 6 months. He wasn't the most open-minded person, especially when it came to sex. I, on the other hand, enjoy exploring my sexuality and that of others. I came up with an idea that I just knew would spice up our sex life.

We were residing in a small Alaskan town at the time, and Scott and I would often drive up to Anchorage to spend the weekend shopping and exploring the surrounding areas of the "Big City". Like I said, Scott wasn't too keen on trying new things and when I told him that I wanted to go to a lounge that we hadn't been to before, he was very hesitant, but finally said yes.

Okay, by the end of the first paragraph, I do want to know what the idea is, but the first two sentences were still a tad uninteresting. What if you skipped this backstory and went directly to the lounge? I’m one of those people who think that some catchy dialogue can be an effective hook. Maybe something like,

“Just do me a favor and pretend you don’t know me.”

If you plop the reader smack dab in the middle of a scene that is happening at the moment, it’s a much more dynamic beginning. You can then sneak in the stuff about their six month relationship, the setting, etc. in between.

Spell out “six.” Most numbers, except for the very unwieldy, should be spelled out. Exceptions are dates, years, times, that sort of thing.

After a nice, lingering dinner and a couple of very strong martinis, I told him to go ahead and go to the lounge and that I would meet him there in an hour. The stipulation was this-I wanted him to act like he and I were complete strangers. If it weren't for the drinks, I'm sure he would have immediately backed out and refused to fulfill my fantasy.

The dinner isn’t lingering. At least, I hope not.

I told him to go ahead… – Delicate, baby, you gotta get some dialogue happening here. Let us actually HEAR what she says and what he says back. Dialogue moves a story along. It gives you tons of opportunities to show us who the characters are.

So, instead of “I told him to go ahead,” try something like,

“Go ahead now, Scott. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“An hour?”

He looked perplexed, so I rubbed his chest and gave him a soothing smile. “Just trust me, honey. I’ll be worth the wait.”

Look for all the places where you TELL us what’s going on. SHOW us instead. That’s that old writer’s adage, “Show, don’t tell.” Show her getting out of the cab. Show how she reassures him. Show her in the shower. Let us in on her thoughts as she’s perfuming herself up.

Now, as for the idea about pretending he doesn't know her... I'm sure it's a very stimulating thing to do, however, I just want you to know there are many stories out there with this idea. You might want to consider a way to go outside of the norm and surprise us.

We pulled up to the hotel room and I got out of the cab and reassured him that I'd meet him in the lounge in one hour. In the hotel room, I quickly showered and then massaged a lightly scented lotion all over my body. I clasped a lacy, black garter belt around my waist and slid black stockings up over my long, smooth legs. My nipples hardened as the my dress draped freely over my nude upper body. I reached up and felt the silken dress against my breasts and ran my hands along my waist and hips, wishing I had time to stop enjoy the feeling of dampness that was forming between my legs. I loosely pinned my long auburn hair atop my head and slid my feet into my heels. I called a cab and drank a glass of wine and touched up my makeup as I waited. At last the cab arrived and I was on my way to meet my "stranger, " Scott at the lounge.

You’ve got a typo there – “the my” dress.

My nipples hardened as the my dress draped freely over my nude upper body. – This makes me think it’s an awfully short dress if it only covers her upper body. Am I to understand also that she’s not wearing a bra? I think you should re-write this sentence for clarity. Also, if you use “the dress” in this sentence, don’t use it in the next.

Think about tightening up where possible. Like, maybe “slid on some heels” might be better than “slid my feet into my heels.”

Also, this is picky shit, but if it were me, I would already have felt bad making him wait an hour. I could have showered before dinner, so that all I had to do was change clothes. Maybe the cab could just wait for her then.

As I entered the lounge, I felt like all eyes were upon me. Scott started to stand up and come towards me and I quickly turned and walked over to the bar and found a seat next to an older, distinguished gentleman who immediately asked if he could buy my a drink. I sat with my body towards him (period) I sipped my glass of wine. Seductively running my fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass. Scott was sitting alone at a table and I could tell that he wasn't very pleased by the way I was intentionally adjusting my body so the man next to me could fully view my long legs and erect nipples.

I felt like all eyes were upon me. – I’d elaborate here. Let us readers feel what she’s feeling. What does this do to her to have all eyes on her. Maybe this is what makes her nipples get hard. Maybe it makes her walk sexier to the bar. Maybe it makes her lip curl up in a silent challenge to the men in the room.

Tell us about Scott. He stands up. Yeah. Tell me more! How does he stand up? Does he leap to his feet? Does hesitate before he gets up, unsure? Is he pissed off? What does his face look like? Your story is missing details like this to enrich our experience as readers. I feel like you’re telling me this story over the phone. That’s not want I want. I want to feel like I’m THERE, seeing it happen.

Seductively running my fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass. This is an incomplete sentence. Also, as the_bragis often (rightfully) says, “Adverbs are not the writer’s friend.” Delete “seductively,” and try for a more exact verb. Running isn’t bad, though. Perhaps if you kept “running” you could add a simile. “I ran my fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass as if it were a cock.” Or maybe “I caressed the stem of my wine glass.” Get the idea?

Now she adjusts her body for the gentleman who bought her the drink, but what are they saying to each other? Show me the expression on this guy’s face. Show me how she flirts with him.

It wasn't long before Scott joined us at the bar. I was hoping that he would continue the "game" and not lead on that we weren't actually strangers. As Scott leaned up against the bar, I turned and faced him, bending over to adjust the strap on my shoe in such a way that Scott could have an unobstructed view of my full breasts.

I don’t think you need the quotes around “game.” Also, it should be "let on," not "lead on."

She hoped the game could have gone on longer. Me too. You followed the rules and only gave me your first 500, so obviously I don’t have the rest of the story to go by, BUT, I suspect that from here, they just go have great sex. Forgive me if I’m jumping to inaccurate conclusions.

If I’m wrong, terrific. Then I think that your title (more about the title later) might actually be appropriate.

If I’m right, though, here are my thoughts. The game doesn't go on long enough to merit it being the title of the story. So, what if Scott is compelled in some way to play along. Maybe she won a bet, or she requests this scenario for her birthday present. She could stipulate that he not approach her for half an hour. That gives her plenty of time to play the game to its utmost. Just an idea.

Now, as for the title. I ran a search on “The Game,” and on the first page alone I got nine stories with that exact title, and dozens more with variations. Consider that the title is the first part of your story that the Literotica reader sees. I think it’s worth any writer’s time to really think of a bang-up title. Look at the titles in the category you’re submitting to. Get an idea of what types of titles there are and then wrack your brain for something that stands apart from that. Sometimes a phrase from your story can be perfect. Plays on words are popular. Song titles often work. Just remember, the title is your first chance to hook a reader’s interest. Take full advantage of it. But be original if you possibly can.

To summarize, I think the two things you should focus on to improve your writing overall are:

1. Include dialogue.
2. Show me more detail. Think about including all the five senses, plus one. Describe what the characters are seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, and feeling. You’ll be amazed at how much more vivid your story will be if you do this.

I hope this helps. Best of luck on your writing.

 

[RussH]

Whispersecret,

Have you ever stumbled across something, and had to wonder WHY you didn't find it sooner? This entire thread should be placed in a sticky post at the beginning of the 'Editors' forum. It also should be required reading for anyone who wishes to be an editor.

Wish I'd found it before I started.

All I have to add is "Thank You!"

Russ

 

[Whispersecret]

Thanks, Russ. I'm really glad you found this thread helpful. That's part of why I'm doing it. I hoped that even the people who weren't having work critiqued would find it informative.

And while it's kind of you to say that Laurel should make my thread a sticky, I would never presume to suggest that to her. That would be the worst kind of vanity! Besides, I think it's more appropriate here in the Feedback section. The Editor's forum is largely a ghost town.

Oh, and Delicate Sea was the last person in line, so "There's no waiting at checkstand five hundred!" If people who have already participated want another turn, that's fine.

 

[HobitStoryTeller]

First 500 Words

Cleaned up!

 

[Whispersecret]

DarlingNikki

“I never get to do anything exciting anymore,” I grumbled. “Between college and my stupid job, I never even go out. School isn’t so bad, but my job sucks. Did you know I have to call someone to come out and take my place before I can go to the bathroom? And then there’s the prissy little outfits I have to wear. Sometimes when I’m sitting there waiting for the phone to ring I just want to do something depraved – tear my clothes off and go running into the senior partner’s office screaming or something.”

I'm a bit put off by this immediate whining. My first thought is that this girl needs to grow up. Her complaints about the bathroom and dress code don't add up to a truly sucky job, at least in my book. Maybe tone it down a little? Maybe something like this...

"I think I'm in a rut. It's school, work, school, work. Day in and day out. There's no excitement in my life anymore. You know what I mean, Tommy?"

Tommy nodded, exhaling a lungful of smoke.

"I mean, it's gotten to the point where sometimes I’m sitting there waiting for the phone to ring I just want to do something depraved – tear my clothes off and go running into the senior partner’s office screaming or something.”


Tommy had already been listening to me rant about my prim and boring receptionist job for half an hour, but he waited patiently for my rant to run out of steam. He grinned when I mentioned running around naked but he didn’t say anything.

I already get a good sense of Tommy from his attitude and his silence. Nice. I see him as a sardonic, reserved man, reluctant to show too much enthusiasm.

Also, you use the word "rant" twice in one sentence...

“It’s so… clean. So goody-two-shoes,” I said. “I’m sick of it. I feel like it’s swallowing me up… I don’t want to be the nice girl they think I am at work. Ugh. I mean… I just want to… do something. Something different or shocking or… something,” I concluded lamely.

I've often heard the term "goody-two-shoes," but I've never been sure of the spelling. Because I'm a stickler for spelling, I'd check before using that phrase.

Perhaps "swallowing up" isn't accurate. What about blending into the background? What if she's having nightmares about disappearing or where people can't see or hear her?

You're overusing the ellipse (...). I know she's searching for words, but with a little more effort you can omit some of them:

It’s so… clean. So goody-two-shoes,” I said. “I’m sick of it. I feel like it’s swallowing me up. I don’t want to be the nice girl they think I am at work. Ugh. I mean, I just want to, I don't know, do something. Something different or shocking or… something,” I concluded lamely. "

Even though I'm picking on your word choice, I do want to point out that you're clearly establishing your character's goal and motivation, which is excellent.

Apparently Tommy had finally had enough. “We’re going out,” he said. He took a final drag of his cigarette, tossed the butt out the window and stood up. “But you’re not wearing that.”

I glanced down at my jeans and crop-top with the flower appliqué on the chest. “What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like an eight year old.” Tommy opened the door of my walk-in closet and began flipping through the hanging clothes. I peered around him, chewing my lip as he rejected the blouses, sweaters and skirts I’d bought to wear to work. “This skirt is okay,” he said, holding up a denim mini-skirt. “Do you have any sexier tops?”

I think you need to hyphenate "eight-year-old."

I'd start a new paragraph where you say, "Tommy opened the door..." This is a new "topic," apart from what he said about her appearance.

Omit "hanging." It's not necessary.

“Second drawer,” I said. Tommy handed me the skirt on the hanger and opened the second drawer of my dresser. He stirred through its contents, held up and tossed back a few tops until he came up with something tight and black with spaghetti straps.

You're starting to lose me a little. There's nothing really compelling going on. Try taking advantage of the fact that he's going through her clothes. Take the opportunity to show us more about her. Is her closet messy? Is she embarrassed about that? Is she worried he might see her secret stash of erotic books on the top shelf? Or the "fat" section where she keeps the stuff she wears when she's gained weight?

“Here,” he said. He handed me the top and shut the drawer, its contents still in disarray. “Put this on. And the boots.” I knew immediately what boots he meant – the high heeled, knee-high black leather boots.

What if he tosses the top to her? I'm just trying to inject some dynamic action to this scene...

I like how she knows what boots he meant.

“I usually wear this top with jeans,” I said. “And this skirt with a sweater or something. And the boots I only wear with long skirts.”

Here I'm getting a bit of contradiction from her, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. In the beginning, she's complaining about her clothes, job, life. Now Tommy's offering her a chance to change it, if only for one night, and she's balking. That's fine, but you might want to show us some of her thoughts about it.

For example,

I pictured how I would look in the outfit he'd chosen and felt uncertain. Separate, the skirt, top, and boots were harmless enough, but together it just seemed too...dangerous.

"Oh, I don't know, Tommy."

In fact, I think I've stumbled upon part of why I'm not too interested in the story yet. We're in the first person perspective, and yet I'm getting almost nothing particularly personal from her. The advantage to first person is that the reader is deep inside the head of the person narrating the story. Yet, if you look over what you've written so far, all we're getting is a sort of distant description of the action and dialogue.

Be bold. Go inside her (your?) head. We readers are a nosy bunch. We want to be in on the thoughts and feelings of the characters. See more below.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Just put it on and let me see how it looks.”

“But—“

“Will you come on already? Just let me see.”

“Fine.” I closed myself into the closet, wiggled out of my clothes, and put on Tommy’s selections. When I started stumbling around trying to put on the boots standing up, he opened the door.

Here is the perfect opportunity to show us more about the girl. (By the way, we don't even know her name yet.) What is she thinking when she's in the closet? Isn't she wondering where he's going to take her? Is she secretly excited about dressing "trampy?" How does she feel about him barging in on her? This would be a good time to insert some info about their relationship. If they're very good friends and have a very close relationship, she might not be bothered that much by him barging into her closet. Or are they just friends? I just went back and looked and we don't really know if they're lovers or brother or sister, or what.

“Nice.” He kneeled in front of me. “Let me do it,” he said. He zipped up my left boot and then helped me into my right boot and zipped that up too, while I put my hands on his shoulders to balance myself. “Come out and turn around for me.”

How does he look her over? What's the expression on his face? How does she feel when she looks in the mirror? Is she surprised by what she sees?

Overall, your main hook here is that I'm wondering where they're going to go and what they're going to do, but honestly, I'm not that compelled to read too much more.

I think that it's because you're a little sparse on detail. If your plot isn't inherently exciting, you need to have interesting characters, and if you analyze this segment, you'll see that you don't offer too much to the reader in this regard.

We know she's unhappy with her job and life. We know Tommy has a plan to help her with that. We know she has a drab work wardrobe and usually looks girlish. Other than that...we don't know much. Invite us into her life by sharing her thoughts. In the beginning of the story, we need to know what her normal life is so that when she gets thrust into whatever adventure Tommy has planned for her, we can better understand how it affects and changes her. Hopefully, I'm making sense. If not, ask me to clarify, okay?

Perhaps you could start it out with her saying, "I can't go out looking like this." This, I think, would grab a reader and make him think, "Looking like what? And why?" You can always summarize or backtrack what lead up to the change of clothing. Just a suggestion.

Overall, I didn't see too many mechanical errors, other than some paragraphing glitches. (If the dialogue doesn't go with the action following it, separate the dialogue and the action into paragraphs.)

I hope this is helpful.