New Voice
Name/Pseudonym: Ashley Lynn
Critiquing skills
I chose to critique the excerpt posted by x_triangulated in her application. Overall I liked the piece but there were a few things I noticed.
1. the conversations flowed wonderfully, but we the descriptions were lacking. I actually skipped the descriptive parts and went straight to the dialogue, and had to go back and reread it all the way through in order to really critique it. My advice would be to try to think the way your protagonist thinks. We seemed to be seeing things from Isy's perspective, but it was all too quick and don't you think someone who was dying would take things more seriously and possibly pay more attention to detail?
2. There was too much serendipity. I know I'm not one to talk (see excerpt below) but I feel like it very cliche the way she sort of remembered her leukemia. The idea is good, and I can see a classic little romance coming out of it, but maybe it was just the way she led up to it. It wasn't enough of a surprise and it felt like she was trying too hard. Also, the way Cassian suddenly declared that he knew about bruises because he works in a hospital wasn't very believable. Maybe if he had said, "trust me, I know bruises, and that isn't nothing" or something like that. Then later we find out he was a baseball player who got injured and now works in a hospital and knows a doctor who might be able to save her.... happily ever after. My point is, I think there's a better way to push the plot forward without giving away all your surprises at the beginning.
3. There's a lot of fluff, but she made it feel elegant and artistic unlike the typical romantic fainting scene.
I really enjoyed the piece and I think she could definitely be published with a little polishing.
Writing sample
This is an extract from one of my "novels-in-progress." I haven't been working on it long enough to really have the plot perfect, but essentially, it's a "science experiment gone bad" book. A researcher discovers away to enhance the logical part of the human brain and eliminate to a degree the emotion. He creates a generation of robot children, who decide that they are superior and should take over the world. The back plot begins with a 22 year old girl, named Elena, who has never left her house, who goes outside for the first time during one of the robot raids. She is taken away by one of the robot children, named Tom, who happens to not be very robotic and not much older than she is, and they go on many adventures, ladada. This extract actually begins after they have escaped together to a community of "normal" humans, fallen in love, been discovered by robot people, and he has left her "for his own reasons," and she is pregnant with his child. A lot of explanation, but hey, it's going to be a fun book. Although, if it takes that much explanation, I might have to make it a series. Elena narrates.
********
I woke up in the rocking chair by the window, as I did every morning. The sunbeams gleaming across the open field before me were always so astonishingly beautiful, and today was no different. I rocked myself back and forth, humming a little melody I remembered from my pre-maternal years. I knew Thomas would sleep until the sun was high in the sky, but Amber would be up any minute now. I listened for the patter of her feet as I gazed out onto the field. No one had planted anything there for years, and the wild grass and flowers that grew there suited the untamed community it surrounded.
Then I heard Amber climb noisily out of bed and run down the hall towards my little sitting room.
“Mother!” she cried happily.
“Hello, darling heart. How are you this morning?”
“Great,” she grinned.
I chuckled. “Shall we make some breakfast? Maybe your brother will be awake before the eggs get cold this time.”
She nodded and took my hand as I stood up and stretched. I looked out onto the field once more before leaving for the kitchen.
The kitchen was the center of the community. All the able women gathered a little after sunrise to start cooking for everyone before they set out for their chores. Today, there were only a few girls there helping. I wondered a little at where the others could be, but then decided it must just be earlier than I thought. We fixed up some eggs and toast for anyone who came through, and I looked for Thomas in the little crowds as I served people. Of course, I never saw him. When most of the men had eaten and left for the fields, and the rush of breakfast was over, I went back to our little dwelling to wake Thomas. I brought a plate of toast with me as a peace offering for waking him before he was ready.
“Thomas, dear? It’s time to wake up.”
He grunted angrily and pulled his blankets over his face.
“Please, sweetie, they would really like your help in the fields today. And if you finish early, you’ll be able to clean up and look your best for tonight.”
He pulled the blankets down to his nose.
“What’s tonight?” He asked suspiciously.
“Can you have forgotten? It’s the end of spring.”
“Ugh,” he groaned, “I hate that stupid celebration. And I hate how much you look forward to it. You always get disappointed when Dad doesn’t show.”
I frowned. Thomas was never an easy child, but he had definitely gotten more difficult since he had turned ten.
“Thomas, I am always happy when we return from the celebration, whether your father has appeared or not.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, apparently thinking I couldn’t hear him.
I gave the top of his head a light-hearted smack.
“Be nice.”
He sat up suddenly and dropped the blankets.
“You know,” he said excitedly, “Matthew was asking me about you the other day. He really likes you, you know. And he’s really fun and nice…plus, you know, he actually exists, unlike Dad.”
“Thomas! Your father DOES exist. And he’s coming back. I’ll wait for him forever if I have to.”
“Well, Mom, I’m glad you have that resolve, because forever is exactly how long you’ll be waiting.”
I just sat there. I didn’t know how to respond.
“Besides,” he continued, encouraged by my silence, “even if he DOES exist, he obviously didn’t care enough about you to worry when you had twins on the way. Dad’s are supposed to stick around and help raise the kids.”
Fighting back tears, I tried to end the conversation.
“Your father was always protective and loving to me, even when it put his life at risk. I know you can’t understand that, but try to at least understand that I can’t give up on him. I just can’t. Now eat this toast and get out to the fields, so you can hurry home and clean up before the celebration tonight. Amber and I will be picking flowers from the outer field if you need anything.” And with that, I stood up and went to my bedroom.
__________________________
I woke suddenly, tears streaming down my face. This wasn’t the first time I had dreamt about Amber and Thomas, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I was eight months pregnant, and the general consensus from the practiced mothers was that I was expecting twins. Some said two boys, some said two girls, but all my dreams had been of a boy and a girl. Thomas and Amber. It had been a little over seven months since I’d last seen Tom, and he had promised me that he would come to the end of spring celebration for our community, and that he would never leave me again. I was impatient for the day, but now that it was here, my dreams of his no-show days haunted my every thought.
*****
And this is a poem I wrote when I started college..so, old work, but still, a good sample of my work.
*****
"Alone Again"
I can hear you
When I read the letters
That I wait for
So impatiently.
I can honestly hear you
Pronouncing each syllable
Accenting the right words
Just like you did
Forever ago
When you sat next to me.
I keep playing the moments
Over and over in my mind.
And it's all stopped being
A comfort.
It just makes me
Miss you even more.
*****
Last one I promise. I just want you to get a feel for what I do. This was a more recent one, called, "Ignorance May Be Bliss but Knowledge of a Truth is Better."
*****
I sit in quiet solitude
Awaiting a fate I've already accepted.
The Future becomes the present
The present is long past
The moments, once so agonizing and long,
Never last.
-
Already I miss those freer moments, in a sense.
Apologizing for the cliche I insist
That ignorance truly is bliss
For knowledge holds more responsibility
And while he future approaches
So suddenly and steadily
I can hear it.
-
I can hear the music rising up from the earth.
The voiceless lyrics waiting to be heard.
Can I find the words within myself?
Or share the joy I've found?
Or perhaps more importantly,
Will anyone listen?
-
I have to try despite all opposition.
I know the path you've chosen is one
You do not wish to alter, but
I know that there is so much more
Just give me a chance to share it with you.
Let me sing for you, just once.
*side note: I just want to say, that while I was looking for pieces to critique, I was very impressed and intimidated by the excellent writers already on this site. And that isn't brown nosing, it's just honesty. I hope you weren't too disappointed by my work. Thanks for reading!