Jessica's Critique

To the writer:
I enjoyed the "feel" of your writing very much. It has a warm, homey, tone. The opening made me wonder whether you would have a hard time allowing "bad things" to happen to your characters. (Of course, the fact that Jake lost his family in a car wreck and saw them burn, already works against that notion)

There was a lot communicated in this 1000 words.

We know:
Honor has a mothering type personality
She's had two near marriages
Vickie is a matchmaker
Honor is a family therapist
Honor is like a daughter to Wilma and John
Wilma and John's son is Jake
Jake's lost his family in a car accident (and saw them burn) and is now home to heal
Honor is on good terms with Jake's sister and watches her kids
Honor has tactless "friend" named Bitsy
Honor likes to bake cookies and does it often

That's a lot of information for the first thousand words of a story.

What is the focus of this scene? It seemed to me the focus was to catch the reader up to speed on everything in Honor's life, so the reader would know exactly where we are in the story.

I suggest narrowing the focus. Even though I know all of the above about Honor, I have no idea how she feels about Jake being home. (And I'm assuming he's a large part of this story.) I've just spent time in Honor's POV discussing Jake with her best friend, I haven't a clue what Honor thinks or feels about him.

Also, much of the dialogue sounded forced to convey information, as did some of the Internal Monologue. Go through your chapters, and anytime you find a piece of dialogue or Internal Monologue that is solely for the reader, highlight it. It probably needs to go.

Otherwise, you have a good grasp of keeping the flow of your story. The action beats and dialogue were nicely interwoven. The characters came across as warm and with personality.


CHAPTER ONE

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

Honor McKee looked up into her best friend’s glaring brown eyes. No one did peeved quite like Vicki Kauffman: hands on her hips, head tilted, brows lifted as if she expected an answer, and (she) expected it now. {{for an opening, this communicates more about Vickie than the protagonist. I suggest making it clearer whose POV we're in}}

Thankfully, the timer buzzed, offering Honor an excuse to concentrate on her baking. She [grabbed an oven mitt,] opened the oven door[,] and squinted into the rushing heat[.] **suggest deleting from here carrying the (delicious) {{the word aroma suggests delicious}} aroma of chocolate chip cookies into the room. She grabbed an oven mitt and took out the pan. **to here)

From the scent alone, Honor knew her cookies were perfectly baked. She set the tray on the counter and began taking them up. (She loved making cookies. The routine was as important to her as the broad smiles welcoming her when she walked into a room with them. )

{{There's nothing wrong with the above sentences I'm suggesting you cut. However, there's a bit too much about the cookies here. It's as if the reader is being asked "Did you get it? Honor likes to make cookies, they make her feel important. Did you see it? I thought the next bit about the cookies communicated all that needed to be said and was the strongest writing about the cookies.}}

The last cookie tore as the spatula slid under it. With the tenderness a mother would show a child’s scraped knee, Honor held it in place and gently nudged it onto the wax paper.

“Hel-looo?” Vicki waved her hand in front of Honor’s eyes. “Are you listening to me?”

Honor didn’t want to hear Vicki’s ramblings about yet another romantic prospect. Her day had been discouraging enough.

{{Here the story is interrupted to tell us about Honor. I think it would be stronger to keep the dialogue rolling and the scene immediate. The fact that Honor is watching kids can be weaved into the scene easily. It's more interesting for the reader to witness someone being tactless and rude in a "live" scene rather than hear about it second hand. Suggestion: Why not have Vickie asking who the five kids are at Honor's house and then allowing the conversation to naturally into Jake. "You're kidding! When did he come home?" etc,.}}

Suggest deleting from ***She’d run into Bitsy Carpenter downtown, juggling two bags and as many children clinging to her legs. Her oldest son pushed a stroller with a sleeping Number Four in it. A chatterbox from high school, Bitsy went on and on about her children’s accomplishments, her dreadfully busy husband, and her “Well, life is just so demanding with so many kids, isn’t it?”

And the topper to Honor’s morning? The “Oh, I’m so sorry, Onnie, I didn’t mean...” that tumbled out of Bitsy’s mouth and drifted to a stammering halt. But, of course, Bitsy did mean [it?]. And her look of pity made Honor want to scream.

She’d gone home instead to a leaking washing machine and a sopping wet floor in her laundry room. She’d gathered her hair into a ponytail and spent the better part of an hour cleaning up, just in time for Cybil Barrett’s call about her five kids.

“Thanks so much for watching my children after school, Honor. Their Uncle Jake is home again, after nine years of living in Maine, bless his heart, and he promised to pick Chrissy up at your place at four. I’ll round up the others about four-thirty. All right?”

Of course, it was all right. Honor’s home had become a holding cell for children wanting her cookies with milk after school, and Honor loved having them there. ***to here

Vicki’s face appeared not two inches from Honor’s. “You’re ignoring me.”

Honor rolled her eyes. “Somebody has to.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I know you’re pestering me.” Honor wiped the pan, picked up a spoon and started scooping out balls of dough.

“Since when is looking out for my best friend pestering?”

“Since when have I needed looking out for?”

“Since you’re...” Vicki’s hasty words stopped.

Honor tensed. Don’t say it, she silently begged. Not out loud. (The words would become too real and too hurtful. ) **I think it would be stronger without the explanation**

{{I suggest combining this paragraph with the last one. }} Without taking her eyes off the dough dropping onto the cookie sheet, she said, “The timer behind you, Vicki. I’m almost finished with this batch. Set it for twelve minutes.”

Honor heard the swish of the dial followed by soft ticking.

Vicki sighed. “At least be happy about the prospect.”

“You’re happy. That’s enough for me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Honor opened the oven door and slid in the pan. “You’re wasting your talents on me, Vicki. Surely there’s another single woman you can haunt with fresh meat. Besides,” Honor sniffed {{this sniff is confusing to me. Is it a snobby sniff? Is she near tears? Or is it just a filler?}}, “I know too much about Jake Barrett.”

“That’s an advantage, knowing his parents so well. Have you seen him? He’s been back three days now.”

Honor resented the hope bracketing Vicki’s words {{nice}}. Hope had given Honor nothing but two very public broken engagements. {{I read this sentence twice before I understood "Hope" wasn't a new character. FYI}} At this point in her life, all she wanted was to be left alone, to live an inconspicuous and quiet life **as a family counselor** {{It's not a natural fit here. The flow of thought doesn't sound real}} . Obviously, having a husband and children was simply not God’s plan for her life {{this next part sounded real. Good job!}} . “No, I haven’t seen him.”

*** Vicki reached for her glass of tea. “How long has it been since his wife and son died?”

“Almost two years now, but it could have happened yesterday, the way Wilma says he holds onto it.” Honor walked to the sink and washed her hands.

“Did they ever identify the man driving the car?”

“No.” *** this conversation sounds planted by the author to communicate to the reader what he/she wants the reader to know

“It’s time for Jake to move on,” Vicki declared, scooping up a wad of cookie dough and stuffing it into her mouth before Honor could swat her hand away. {{I suggest you take away the dialogue tag and make this a solid action beat}} Licking her finger, Vicki frowned at her. {{Why? Does the cookie dough taste bad? }} “Why did he move back? Has Wilma said?”

“To heal, to find himself. To try to get the gruesome pictures of his family burned beyond recognition out of his soul. Wilma doesn’t know. {{< -- this part sounds planted for the reader's information}} He’s just finally home, and she’s thrilled. You should see her face when she talks about Jake. You’d think he’s her only child.”

Vicki nodded. “When one’s hurting, he may as well be.”

“It’s Wednesday.” {{< -- not natural conversation}} Honor dried her hands and dropped the towel on the counter. “I need to call Wilma and see if she still wants me to come over for dinner and church [tonight] .”

“If?” Vicki grunted. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

When Vicki turned to the sink, [and] Honor noticed the sunlight streaming through the window added gold highlights to her friend’s short red hair. Her tall thin figure would be called classic in the fashion world. {{It's nice to know what Vickie looks like, but I'm curious about Honor too. What about a comparison here? }} “Too many open wounds, Vicki. I don’t want to intrude.”

“As if.” Vicki picked up the towel and wiped her hands. “You’ve been like a daughter to Wilma and John Barrett for years. Intrude doesn’t come to mind when they think of you. Besides, Wednesday is your special time with both of them.”

“Not anymore, [not] with Jake home. Anyway, I’ll be right back.” Honor walked out of the kitchen, then popped her head back in. “Don’t eat my cookie dough while I’m gone.”