Gina's Critique

What I liked about this author's writing was its style/vibe that I see potential in. Mechanics can be taught but I think this author has a talent that will emerge beautifully once he/she gets the elements of story telling and craft nailed. We all have to learn it one step at a time.

I like that the author didn't begin with a lot of backstory and I was interested in what might happen even if I wasn't yet invested.

My suggestion for this author: Keep on honing your craft. Read Self-Editing for the Fiction Writer if you haven't, and Techniques of the Selling Writer and of course apply what you learn, and more than anything, get yourself into a good critique group as soon as possible. They will help you learn and apply what those books preach. Thanks for letting us look at your submission. It's not easy having your work dissected. Use what's useful and right for your story, throw away what's not.

No hard feelings in the least if you hate all my suggestions.


( ) = suggest cutting
[ ] = suggest adding
** comments
GWS = goes without saying
author's original text in black, comments in blue

PROLOGUE


** I think start off by her maybe smearing greasy lipgloss over her lips—are they thin, or full or cracked? She’s looking in the mirror, I should have a better picture of what she looks like. Then maybe she runs the hard tip of the eyeliner over her lid, watching as her small brown eyes take on a harder look. You could really slow this part down and use a metaphor or foreshadow what’s to come.***She wore makeup for the first time that night. She didn’t know why. **She didn’t know why seems weak to me. Might be stronger if she did know why. If maybe someone’s words rang in her ears, ripping at her gut as she smashed the course bristles of the makeup brush against her cheeks. Though I have no idea what kind of story this is so I could be way off**

Standing in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, she surveyed her face.**I like the crack in the bathroom mirror. One detail that says a lot. It’s a vague description though. You can do better. [A lightning bolt crack zig-zagged through the medicine cabinet mirror and through the center of her face’s reflection.] **maybe that’s not great but what I’m saying here is be more specific. Use smaller details** The purple eye-shadow, ivory foundation, and glossy lipstick (-- they) transformed her. Her pasty complexion was now a thing of beauty. A majestic painting. **seems less of a painting and more of a mask**Maybe that was it. The makeup made her feel like she was disconnecting from herself, slipping on a costume. Masquerading as a different woman.

An hour later **[,]? *punctuation is my weakest link so I could be wrong** she stood outside her ex’s front door, gloved hand wrapped around the knob. **is it biting cold or is she wearing a latex glove because she’s going to commit a crime? If it’s cold, let see her breath, feel the wind, shiver with her. Maybe she wishes she wore a warmer coat***

It would be locked, but she knew he kept the spare key under the welcome mat.**this is telling. Better to show her either getting frustrated then remembering with IM (internal monologue) that he has the key, or simply lifting the mat up and pulling up the key. Much stronger to show**

At this time of night he’d be glued to the sofa, remote in hand, a football game blaring.**this is also telling. Sometimes telling is okay but here it seems weak. Maybe have her press her ear against the cold metal door listening for the blare of the football game he listened to every Monday night. **

She pressed the key into the lock and turned it slowly. Once inside the shadowy hallway, she listened.( Yes, there was the tv talking.) **be more specific** [A faint rumble of a crowd cheering, dubbed over by the baritone of an announcers voice meant he sat right where he always did, behind the basement door in his cellar turned rec-room.] **or something to that effect** **you’re using “was” a lot. Was is a weak word that usually means passive writing. Let it be a red flag and always reconsider if you can reword for active writing***

Nothing else. Reaching beneath her coat, **what kind of coat? Is it a trench that easily concealed the weapon or a leather bomber with an inside jacket, etc***

she pulled out the loaded .38, its power burning in her palm.**burning? If it’s cold outside I’d imagine she’d feel the coolness of it in her palm. You can use the paradox of it burning too. Something like : {though the metal felt like an ice cube against her trembling palm, the power of the weapon seered her.] or something along those lines***

For one moment she balked. **telling, show it*** Once she crossed this threshold she could never go back. Neither could he. Ever. *is she shaking, nauseas, second guessing herself. Do the consequences flash in her mind or a memory of him that was pleasant and she pushes it away?**


She curled her fingers around the gun’s barrel. But it had to be done. He could never touch their child again. **it seems you might have started this story with her finding out about their child. Maybe vowing to do something. Then we have that whole suspensful buildup. Where we start here, I don’t know her, don’t know her child, don’t particularly hate this guy. I’m not invested. Seems it might be a good idea to reel me in first. Starting the story at the point of conflict is good. This doesn’t seem to be that point. That point it seems came when she found out about her child or when she finally snapped and decided to take matters into her own hand. I’m having a hard time buying this without knowing if she went to the police first and maybe they didn’t believe her or whatever***


The pounding, blaring **didn’t you use “blaring” earlier? And if this was blaring then the tv is really loud so she wouldn’t have had to have listened for it when she walked in the house. She would have clearly heard it. And saying “music of a truck commercial is very unspecific. Maybe a snappy jingle that contradicted her mood. Maybe name the company. Maybe the lyrics. Don’t overdo it but specific details really makes fiction real**music of a truck commercial echoed through the house, and she crept forward down the carpeted hall, quiet as a cat. Around the corner. Into the livingroom. And just as she guessed, there he was: sprawled on the sofa in his old gray sweatsuit, a half dozen dead soldiers littering the coffee table beside him. **I like the detail of the dead soldiers. Toy? That says a lot without saying much** I’d make his sweatshirt a different color cause the soldiers we’ll picture as grey. Unless you want that theme of drab which is fine, but then maybe have one more thing be grey so she can bring attention to it. {The plastic soldiers littered across the chipped oak cocktail table wore the same shade of gray as his oversized sweatshirt. The same color gray as the cinder basement walls. Drab and cold like his heart. **That may be horrible but you get the idea of where you could go if you wanted to***

She waited until she was standing behind the sofa, staring down at his greasy head. **more detail here. Take us step by slow step. This is a suspenseful scene but I’m not feeling it. [He coughed, without covering his mouth as usual and reached to the floor, yanking up a crumbled bag of Fritos, pausing halfway up as though listening for something. Could he hear her breathing? Refusing to inhale she froze behind the couch. He grunted and plopped the bag into his lap. Slowly, she expelled the breath screaming within her lungs to get out. .. etc. I didn’t take the time to really pain stake over that but you should. That was just to give you an idea of how to break it down into smaller units. More detail. Some emotion. Tactile things she experiences that will firmly plant us in her POV (point of view)***

Now. She gripped the gun with both hands, adrenaline surging through her limbs. She could still see the bloody stripes the belt made on his own flesh and blood, and she felt her child’s pain as if her own back was beaten. Never again. **I’ll tell you I’ve got all kinds of questions that are suspending my belief. I’m having a hard time concentrating because I’m thinking if this is a boyfriend, then just dump the guy and press charges. If it’s her husband then again, press charges. He’s got stripes down his back for crying out loud. You’ll have to have convinced me before now that there was no other way***


She lifted her chin, her lips pursing in (boiling) *cliché* anger. How dare he. **how dare he? That sounds like something my grandmother would say rather than a twenty something or thirty something young mother***

Later, when she was once again before her bathroom mirror, **I feel totally ripped off. What was my payoff here? You skipped the most suspenseful part. I suggest putting at least part of it on stage.**

she dipped a cotton ball into the jar of makeup remover and swabbed her cheeks again and again. Until she morphed back into the unremarkable woman whose child needed a mother. ** I like the metamorphosis idea though I don’t get why putting on makeup helped her transform into a murderer. I mean she looked pretty right? I don’t get the relationship. Maybe if she dressed in all black, combat boots, perhaps, took OFF her makeup, slicked her hair back. Took away everything that made her look motherly. Everything that made her, her.??**
Splashing icy water on her face, she looked herself in the eyes.**what did she see? I want to see it too. I want to see details. Red veining around her dilated pupils, the dark circles undereneath, the shock of black hair she has to wipe from her cheek, etc*** Everything had gone according to plan, but there was one thing she hadn’t expected. And it’s absence snuck up on her, just like she’d snuck up on him.
She felt no guilt.**I care less about what she didn’t feel and more about what she did. I always say don’t tell me what they didn’t do, say or think, tell me what they did. Or better yet, show me.***