Jess' Critique

To the writer, kudos for submitting to us to critique! It's never easy to submit work publicly, especially when you know it's to have a magnifying glass put over it for critique. It seems to me you know where you're going with this story and know the characters well, but while reading this a few suggestions came immediately to mind.

1.) I suggest giving the character a name. This is the opening of your novel, your only chance for hooking someone cold in a bookstore. This opening wouldn't hook me, although I did like elements of it. The opening didn't hook me partly due to the fact the character isn't named. I'm uncertain why you choose this, but perhaps the reader is supposed to spend the book guessing who "she" is. In which case, I suggest opening with someone your reader can connect to.

2.) In less than 500 words, the character is in three different places. One of your first goals is to let the reader know you are capable of bringing this world to life, making it worth their time to drop the real world and enter yours. I suggest combing this into one scene. For example: the woman washing off the makeup, thinking of the murder, and filling the scene with the five senses—The smell of the makeup remover, the red-lipstick smudged on the white cotton ball reminding her of the blood, the tingly feeling that follows removing makeup, etc…

3.) I noticed a lack of concrete details. Don't over look these. Subconsciously they're important. For example, if she's never worn makeup before, what brand did she buy? This tells me a lot about your character. For example, is it $1 store makeup, cover-girl or Sephora. This tells me her finance, how much she's invested in the murder.

4.) While thinking about the makeup, another thought occurred to me. Because I rarely wear makeup, I'm always struck at how poorly I think I put it on. If your character has never worn makeup before tonight, how does she know how to apply? Is she delusional that she's magnificent? Typically, on a newbie, eyeliner is zigzag, mascara is cakey or making rings under the eyes. I doubt she's been to a makeup consultant, because it's the first time she's worn makeup. Also, the brand of makeup she's wearing will have an effect too. Cheap makeup might give a 'first-timer' a rash, a prickly feeling on her face (as I imagine she perspired while aiming the gun.) The makeup is a small point—but it's what will make your fiction feel alive. People like to experience "new things." I suggest writing this so your reader experiences putting on make up for the first time as an adult.



PROLOGUE


She wore makeup for the first time that night.{{nice opening. It tells the reader that 'this' night is different, thus a great way to keep ppl reading.}} She didn’t know why {{then why did she buy it? Why is it in her houses? }}. Standing in front of the cracked bathroom mirror {{good way to hint at her finances}} , she surveyed her face. The purple eye-shadow, ivory foundation, and glossy lipstick they transformed her.{{weak, suggest deleting the last sentence}} Her pasty complexion was now a thing of beauty. A majestic painting. {{An action beat would smooth the transition of thought. Ex: She touched her painted lips.}}} Maybe that was it. The makeup made her feel like she was disconnecting from herself, slipping on a costume. Masquerading as a different woman. {{You have the same thought twice. Self Editing For Fiction Writers says 1+1+ 1/2. But in this case I think it works. Geisha comes to mind, there's a woman who paints her face and becomes someone else. Depending on how cultural your character is, you could add that thought.}}
An hour later she stood outside her ex’s front door, gloved hand wrapped around the knob. {{That, as mentioned above, was a quick jump. Especially when we've not settled into the story yet. If you're going to jump, I'd layer this more. What time of year? What temperature is it? Here's a good place to "twange" (as Ron Benrey puts it) a sensation, Use her five senses to pull the reader into the scene. What does she taste? Hear? See? Feel? Smell?}} It would be locked, but she knew he kept the spare key under the welcome mat.{{ Also, you expect the reader to jump with you. Is "it would be locked' Internal Monologue? Did she try the door? Action/Reaction. I suggest telling us she turned the knob but it was locked, then using italics to indicate what's internal monologue and what's telling.}}

At this time of night he’d be glued to the sofa, remote in hand, a football game blaring.
She pressed the key into the lock and turned it slowly. Once inside the shadowy hallway, she listened. Yes, there was the tv talking. {{Can you give us a concrete? The sound of Anderson Cooper, or Dog the Bounty Hunter talking tells us more about this character, including if she's mistaken that all he does is watch a football games.}} Nothing else. Reaching beneath her coat, she pulled out the loaded .38, its power burning in her palm. For one moment she balked. {{I would expand a bit here on her thoughts.}} Once she crossed this threshold she could never go back. {{an action beat here would help transition the thought, and give us insight into her character: EX: A smile stretched over her lips.—or—Squaring her shoulders, she grit her teeth. –see how both give us the insight into how she feels about this next thought}} Neither could he. Ever.

She curled her fingers around the gun’s barrel. But {{Why the word "but" here?}} it had to be done. He could {{or would}} never touch their child again.
The pounding, blaring {{you could make this a concrete sound… a lot of these commercials use electric guitar}} music of a truck commercial echoed through the house, {{As she creeps closer, does she see the light from the TV flashing against the walls?}} and she crept forward down the carpeted hall, quiet as a cat{{cliché}}.

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. {{Nice use of the word "dead" as a foreshadow. You could be bolder in the foreshadow (if she gets caught by the end of the book) by having the "dead solders" toppled over, not one left standing from their war.}}


She waited until she was standing behind the sofa, staring down at his greasy head. Now. {(This is IM, should be in italics. Pull out your Self Editing for the Fiction Writer and dust off that chapter. Also, you could give this word it's own paragraph for emphasis.}} If She gripped the gun with both hands, adrenaline surging through her limbs {{is this sentence complete? Sometimes when we add comments it messes up the formatting, but it looks incomplete to me}}.

She could still see the bloody stripes the belt made on his {{on the man she's about to kill? Or on her son? If she's thinking of her son, this needs to be made clear. The last 'he' mentioned was the man sleeping}} own flesh and blood, and she felt her child’s pain as if her own back was beaten. Never again.

She lifted her chin, her lips pursing in boiling anger. {{boiling anger is cliché}} How dare he. {{This is Internal Monologue, suggest putting it in italics. Even though exclamation points are discouraged, I suggest adding one. How dare he!}}
Later, when she was once again before her bathroom mirror, she dipped a cotton ball into the jar of makeup remover {{scents, sensations?}} and swabbed her cheeks again and again[,] (. U) [u]ntil she morphed back into the unremarkable woman whose child needed a mother.

Splashing icy water on her face, she looked herself in the eyes. 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.