First of all, for those of you who don't yet know me,
This (that) is me.
Welcome to my blog,
and Friday Feedback.
I assume many (most? all!?) of you here today are from Teachers Write!If so, KUDOS! You are in for an exhilarating writing summer chock-full of tips and advice from some awesome guest authors, "super-speed flash edits" (tm) (okay, fine, lie, not tm, sue me) and camaraderie that will make your head spin.
Well, something like that.
At any rate, forgive today's looong post, lots to cover. Future posts will be short and sweet and succinct (maybe). But today, not so much.
First, let me first tell you about Friday Feedback and why I started it. Let's do that interview style to break up the monotony:
Okay, Gae, so, what is the point of Friday Feedback and how does it
work?
Why, the point is to get and give feedback in a fun and supportive environment (with some basic hard and fast rules).
Under the theory that "brave is as brave does" (that's a theory, right? Precept? Well, whatever), I -- or one of my guest authors -- will post a BRIEF writing tidbit and then an excerpt
from something we're working on and we ask for some basic feedback in the comments
(see below for details). I will offer (and hereby am offering) you the same
opportunity to post your own BRIEF excerpt in the comments and receive
the same feedback from me or the guest author, or both, plus from any of my
writer or non-writer friends who might happen to stop by the blog.
Why do you love this feature?
Why do you love this feature?
Good question! You see, writers often
write in a vacuum.
or if it’s crap.
Sure, you think we're exaggerating or being humble when we say that, because you’d think we’d know -- that we could easily tell the difference between gems and crap. But sometimes, honestly, we just can't.
Sometimes, the chasm of self doubt we writers stare down is just that gaping and wide.
If you don’t believe me, here’s a quote I often cite from an interview with the master, William Goldman (Marathon Man, The Color of Light, The Princess Bride), IMHO, one of the greatest writers and storytellers of all time:
“One of the things I love to do when I work with young writers is
to
disabuse them of the notion that I know what I'm doing.
I don't know what
I'm doing. . .
as we are speaking, I am looking at my computer, tearing
out my hair,
thinking, well, is this horrible, or is this going to work?
I
don't know. Storytelling is always tricky."
 |
| gosh, how I love this man's writing. . . |
So, yes, I admit it here and now: I often have no idea what I'm doing.
Really? Okay... well, then, I'm sold on the concept. I'm in! So what are the rules about feedback and BRIEF excerpts, and why do you keep capitalizing the word BRIEF? Do you think we're thick?
Yay! Glad you're on board! And, no, of course, I don't think you're thick at all. But sometimes, in our exuberance, some of us aren't always the best listeners. *tsks*
So, here's how it goes:
I, or my guest author(s), will prepare a post always followed by a BRIEF excerpt of our own writing, sometimes rough, sometimes more polished (our excerpts may be longer than yours. Hey, we run the place ;)), for which we would love the following feedback -- and will offer the same to you on any BRIEF excerpt you might provide in the comments between Friday and Sunday (we make no promises on excerpts posted after Sunday):
• If the excerpt is from the opening of the story, please tell me/us: does it "hook" you enough to make you want to keep reading?
• No matter what point in the story the excerpt is from, tell us what works for you, and why?
• What doesn’t work for you (if something doesn't) and why?
See? Totally simple. :)
As for why I keep emphasizing the word BRIEF, there are two reasons: (1) for my and my guest authors' sanity. Some weeks I/they/we am/are reading up to 30 or more excerpts, and this summer I have a feeling it could be more! and, (2) (and perhaps more importantly) I have no way to protect your work from reading eyes -- and make no promises to. Place an amazing opening up here and someone could always snatch it up. As a writer I don't worry too much about this myself, because there's plenty of content floating around out there, and anyway, any such thieves would have to be able to run with it and that's not (as we all know) as easy as it sounds. Still, I don't want to be responsible for someone lifting a whole chapter of your work from my blog.
This means that, no matter how much I -- or my guest authors -- choose to post at our own risk, when you post, PLEASE limit your excerpt to between THREE and FIVE paragraphs, and no more. Three if they are long-ish, up to FIVE if they are short. If there's more, I may only read the first 3 - 5 paragraphs. If the comment gets too long, feel free to reply in two separate comments.
Once in a while, if an excerpt lends itself, I will perform a "superspeed flash edit" tm (okay, fine, not tm) on it to illustrate some concept, for example, that you've overused a word, or you've used a tense or unneeded words that slow the piece down. Consider it a bonus not an insult (or so I hope!), and, as always with the feedback provided here, take it for what it's worth. If for some reason you don't want me to superspeed flash edit your piece, just tell me so, and I won't. It's just sometimes a great way to illustrate a point.
As for our feedback: use what you like, toss out what you don't. It's your work. They're your words. It's your art.
Also, if I don't already know you and it's the first time you're posting, please identify yourself as a Teachers Write! camper if you are... if you are a student from a particular class I've Skyped with, etc., please identify yourself too. Even if we met on Twitter a few nights ago, please reintroduce yourselves. It may take me a week or two to get to know you.
And, remember, we're all trying to be constructive here. So be honest, but be kind, and expect the same in return.
Okay, got it! Now you're sort of just rambling on and on. So, um, can we get started?
Yes, let's! (Geesh you're all so bossy already). Here we go.
So, why I titled this blog post the way that I did: I think Teachers Write and Friday Feedback couldn't have come at a much better time for me. Because, I've been really struggling with a manuscript and, thus, having to take my own crap advice a lot these past weeks, namely to let my writing be garbage. MOST FIRST DRAFTS ARE GARBAGE. That's how it is for all of us. It's only in the struggle of revision that the real beauty takes place and storytelling gets done.
.jpg) |
| My baby in its paperback incarnation |
I originally wrote JKiDtM about four years ago, as a follow-up option book for my The Pull of Gravity editor, but after I completed it, I was worried it wasn't going to be right for her. Right around the same time, I had started a second ms called Frankie Sky -- now soon to be released as The Summer of Letting Go (Algonquin Young Readers, March 2014) -- and as soon as I got into the meat of that story, both my then-agent and I thought it would be a better choice to submit as my option. Alas, my editor didn't connect with the story at all and turned it down, and it took me several more major revisions, a new and wonderful agent, and another year to sell it to my new editor at Algonquin.
(and, yes, I am excited!)
Anyway, now working on next books, my current agent read the rough draft of Jack Kerouac (which I hadn't worked on in a few years) and thought it had a lot of potential (seemingly seeing past the crap writing, the poorly-drawn characters and the wholly pornographic content of the story *coughs a little more*).
He gave me some great direction and I've been working on revisions since early May.
But, here's the thing: IT SUCKS. IT'S GARBAGE. AND IT'S MAKING ME CRAZY!
Er.
So, I'm trying to take my own advice to let this early rewrite be crap, to breathe through the panic, and to trust that I can -- and will -- get to the core and beauty of the story through revision.
And now that you're all here watching me, I have no choice but to take my own advice and make it happen.
So, without further ado, here is the current (but wholly revised) opening of Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me, up for your feedback.
- Does it hook you?
- What works?
- What doesn't?
Looking forward to returning the favor in the comments!
Be brave, and don't panic if it takes me an hour or three to get back to you in the comments.
Mostly, have fun.
- gae
p.s. yes, I get nervous too!
p.p.s. do feel free to offer the feedback to other writers who have posted in the comments!!
 |
I don’t think that I can do it.
These kinds of videos always lie. They
make it seem easy when it isn’t, and when you try, it never works out like the
guy on screen said it would. It seems impossible that pinning the butterfly down this way
won’t kill it. Then again, it’s as good as dead with this break in its wing, so
it’s either this or do nothing and watch it struggle and die.
I press play again. The video starts
up and the man races through the instructions matter-of-factly, like it’s no
big deal. Like he’s explaining how to fix a flat tire.
“. . . now that you have it
immobilized . . . use your toothpick to dab a dot of glue over the break site.
. .”
I take a deep breath and hold it, press
the loop down, fighting the inclination to close my eyes. Poor little butterfly. Its wings pulse futiley – once, twice against
the restraint like a heartbeat – before settling.
“. . . glue over the surface of the
cardboard splint . . . dry a minute or two to set. Now, using your tweezer, and
making sure the wing is lined up perfectly, carefully place your cardstock
splint over the fractured area . . . no ability to redo, so take your time. . .
dusting powder gently over the wing to counteract excess glue.”
My hands shake ridiculously, and I want to
pause the video again but can’t, so I plow forward. Besides, I’ve watched it
three or four times now. I know all the steps. So why don’t I trust myself?
“. . . When, the glue is dry, grab the
butterfly up gently and remove him from the cloth surface. He may even be stuck.
. . release him free. He’s good to go. . . Cheers!”
Yeah, right. I
haven’t even dabbed the glue.
I take another breath, hold it, get
the glue on the wing and the tiny rectangular splint, exhale, and blow gently
over the spot a few times, giving it time to dry, then place the tiny splint
down over the split in the wing. I dust that with powder using a q-tip, say a
prayer, and lift the wire loop from its body.
The butterfly just lies there.
I should know better than to try to
fix anything.
And, Brian Wyzlic, teacher and camper extraordinaire, who is at All Write this weekend, emailed me this and asked me to post it. From Brian:
ReplyDeleteBackground: this is from a story I've been playing around with for a few weeks now. The narrator is a school mate of Henry and Angela's, though probably wouldn't consider either of them friends. This is a scene that takes place early in the story. I'd love some feedback on it in regards to the action. I think it might feel too disjointed, but I'm not certain.
Halloween at high school is always a mess. You have 4 types of people: those who don’t want to dress up, so they don’t (these would be your “too cool” kids); those who don’t want to dress up, but they do (these would be the guys whose girlfriends wanted to dress up, which brings me to); those who want to dress up, so they do, which is subdivided into those who want to dress up because they love costumes (the “dorks”), and those who want to dress up because they could look a little more slutty than usual and get away with it (almost exclusively girls. Almost.); and then there are those who want to dress up, but they don’t (usually because they’re afraid of being beat up by the “too cool” kids).
I was one of those kids who wanted to dress up, but didn’t. Henry didn’t dress up, either, but I suspect for a different reason. As for Angela? Well, I’m not sure what category she fit in. She wore a costume. But it was…AWESOME. She was this superhero-looking girl, and the costume was incredibly well done. I mean, most people don’t wear a costume to school with hand-written words on the upper thigh that could only be seen if someone were to stare. NOT that I was staring, mind you…well, okay. You got me. I was staring, but it was hard not to. In addition to being incredibly well-done, Angela’s costume was also skin tight. Every voluptuous curve was accented. Eventually I broke my gaze (it’s a nicer word than stare, and I’m telling the story here. It was a gaze. A hormone-addled, why-can’t-we-find-the-area-under-those-curves-in-Calculus gaze, but a gaze nonetheless. You can use “stare” when you tell this story to your friends.), and I found that just about every pair of eyes in the room was also – ahem – gazing at Angela. The guys had their tongues out, while the girls had that I-can’t-believe-she-wore-that-who-does-she-think-she-is-that-bitch eyebrow thing going on (What? I have a sister in college. She taught me quite a few looks [mostly through experience]). She was just getting a beer from the keg in the kitchen sink, but I swear, it was like a piece of heaven floated down for that moment and everyone was taking notice.
That’s when I noticed that not quite everyone was looking at Angela. There were a small group of girls – cheerleaders, though it was hard to tell through their costume of Perfect American Teenage Girl, all of them decked out for a slumber party – who were busy in the corner, by the sliding glass door. I tried to get a better look, but one of my Teenage Boy Eyes kept going back to Angela, who was momentarily surrounded by a halo of light from the hanging lamp above her head.
“NOW!”
I heard the call, and all at once, the Perfect American Teenage Sleepover Brigade ran to the sink. I yelled out, something really helpful, like “ANGELA!” She snapped her head up at me, just in time for the PATSB to take aim and fire.
Each of them had a syrup bottle, and as they squeezed, Angela’s costume turned from a black skin suit to a mass of sticky maple. She barely had time to scream out before I heard the call again.
“NOW!”
As if on cue, the PATSB grabbed their pillows and ripped them open. Feathers flew into the air, and the poured the insides all over Angela. I couldn’t believe it. They actually tar-and-feathered her. I bet Mrs. Bickerson regrets teaching us that lesson in World History.
Hey, Brian! First, thanks for leading the Perfect American Teacher Bravery Brigade and sending a post last night. You rock. But you knew that already.
DeleteAs for your piece up there ^ ^ lots of great stuff. And, kudos for a line that actually made me laugh out loud: "...and those who want to dress up because they could look a little more slutty than usual and get away with it (almost exclusively girls. Almost.)"
What else worked: I really enjoy your categorization of costume-wearing. Haven't read it before and it held my interest and made me think about kids I knew and Halloween and drew me in. I also really like your narrator's voice (with the exception of a few thoughts below)... and these small edits and concerns:
I think in this sentence you need to move your close parenthesis to after the word up: "(these would be the guys whose girlfriends wanted to dress up, which brings me to)";
afraid of being beaten up being beat up... go check with grammar girl :\
and a few places where I'm worried that your teen boy narrator sounds a little too old -- would a teen boy refer to himself as "hormone-addled?" Maybe. Maybe not. Food for thought. Wondered the same thing about the word voluptuous... although it may be a personal thing as i actually have a personal memory of a grown man describing me as voluptuous when I was sixteen and I didn't know what it meant -- thought it meant chunky (I wasn't happy after I found out what it actually meant that he had used it either).
All in all, I really love this piece and think the voice is great. I know it is rough, and look forward to seeing it when it's all tightened up, too. Keep going!
Hi Brian! Fellow Teachers Write camper here. I love the voice in your piece too as well as the costume categorization. I teach high school, so the line Gae brought up about the girls wanting to dress more slutty made me laugh hard because it unfortunately proves to be true. I know you say the MC isn't really friends with Henry and Angela, just schoolmates, but the piece makes it sound like he's at the party with them. Is he there on his own? Is he with actual friends? I also started the piece thinking they were in school but then hoped not once the keg came into picture. Haha! But, maybe this is clearer in the bigger picture. Overall, great voice. Definitely hooked.
DeleteHi Brian. I wasn't too sure about all those parentheses. While I did love the descriptions, was that first paragraph all one sentence? should you maybe break it up a bit? I actually have no idea. I'm sure I would have put a few periods in and gotten rid of the parentheses... but what do I know?
DeleteMy favorite line was and I found that just about every pair of eyes in the room was also – ahem – gazing at Angela.
This line felt out of place... She was just getting a beer from the keg in the kitchen sink, but I swear, it was like a piece of heaven floated down for that moment and everyone was taking notice. I'm not sure what it adds to the story. I think it was his sister doing this? I'm not sure.
I'm not sure what to think about the tar and feather incident. Part of me thinks high school girls couldn't come up with something like this so fast. But then you said it was calculus class, so the should have been smart. Do cheerleaders actually take calculus? hmmm....
Oh wait.. maybe they aren't in calculus class... that's just what they want to DO in calculus class. So I have more questions, what is a sliding glass door doing in a high school? And where did the syrup come from. Is this Foods class? I think they have tables, not desks in foods... Maybe some schools have desks... I just haven't seen one yet.
I love the voice, love the action and think the narrator is going to do a great job. I am curious to know more about what's going to happen. Great way to start.
Nanette
First let me say that I was very hooked by this excerpt, Brian.
DeleteThere are things I really like about the voice, but I do have a couple issues with it. It feels a little contradictory to me, and this is what I mean: your MC is at a kegger, yet his voice in many ways sounds very young to me. This is somewhat hard for me to explain, it may be the way he draws out much of his thoughts with dashes and parenthesis. Contradictory to that, however, like Gae stated above, I think he uses language that a teen wouldn't use. I don't think a teenage boy would consider a costume "incredibly well done" or a girl "voluptuous".
For me, the first paragraph needs some tightening up. An example of what I'm talking about would be taking this: those who don’t want to dress up, so they don’t (these would be your “too cool” kids), and changing it to this: Those who don't dress up because the think they're too cool.
Now for the good stuff. Like I said, there is much to admire in the voice, I think with a little work you have something very sweet and authentic there. I love the part about the gazing. Very cute. I also like the tie-in of the tar and feathering with history class.
This "I tried to get a better look, but one of my Teenage Boy Eyes kept going back to Angela," puts some amazingly funny imagery in my head.
All in all, good job. I'd be interested to read more of this story.
Thank you all for the feedback! I knew there were things I needed to clear up here. Some, I could identify. Others, I just knew something was off but didn't know what. You've all helped guide me to some places I can look at more closely. Thanks!
DeleteBrian, I love your MC. Yes, sometimes he uses words that may sound out of character, but I don't feel like I can say that with authority yet, because I'm not sure about exactly who he is. I am really enjoying his voice! A favorite part of mine (other than those mentioned above) was the whole aside about the word "gaze". Haha! I loved that! Have you read Winger? I'm reading it now and your MC's voice reminds me of Winger. (By the way, I LOVE that book, so that's a compliment. Please keep writing and sharing. I want to know more!
DeleteHi! I'm Jennie Brown...so excited about Teachers Write this summer! Below is my feedback on your BRIEF (lol) excerpt...I have included my excerpt below that. Hopefully I did this right?!
ReplyDeleteDoes it hook me? Yes! I think that there is great suspense and tension in this excerpt. The voice is great, and it really makes me nervous for the narrator!
What works? Going back and forth between the narrator and the YouTube video builds that suspense that works for me! Also, I like the amount of description you give.
What didn't work? Overall, I think that this works well. If I had to find something it would be the lines..."like it’s no big deal. Like he’s explaining how to fix a flat tire." I don't know exactly why....but it felt repetitive....but now I'm just being picky! lol
Below is an excerpt of my contemporary YA mystery. I have included the first page. :) Jennie
Emma Chaplin slid into her favorite corner booth at Cedar Oaks Diner. Thank God she decided to change out of those uncomfortable leggings and tunic and into a new pair of Lucky skinny jeans and polo. The giant staples holding together the ripped seat under her left thigh snagged her tights more times than she could count. After doing a quick scan of the small restaurant, she gingerly reached her manicured fingers underneath the red faux patent-leather booth. Her hand snapped back to her lap as the waitress came near.
“Coffee, Emma?” Mary asked, pushing a piping hot cup of black under Emma’s nose. Emma couldn’t say no. Not because the old woman’s gentle eyes urged her to take it or because it would warm the chill of early October, but because she had been awake for over 24 hours and could use the caffeine.
Emma’s fingers rapped on the side of the coffee-stained cup just as quickly as the buckles on her Kenneth Cole riding boots tapped on the side of the table leg. Did Mary notice how anxious she was? She waited for the petite 80-year old woman to move on to the young hipster couple two booths over so she could continue her search.
Mary didn’t budge. “Where are the others tonight?” she asked with a warm crooked smile.
Emma’s fingers ran circles around the edge of the mug. She hadn’t asked Blake to come along. And when she texted Hattie, she received a terse reply of - Busy. And there was no way she would tell Mary why Bekah wasn’t with her. Could a sweet old woman even handle a truth like that?
Hi Jennie! I'm a Teachers Write camper too! I LOVE this opening! Love the characterization of Emma through her designer clothing along with the set-up of the mystery, that clearly she is not your typical teen fashionista. I agree with Gae that there is a LOT of description and that it might not all be necessary, but your adjectives are well thought out and paint a great picture. Maybe just pick and choose which ones you love vs. which may not be needed. GREAT start.
DeleteI'm not an expert here, but I almost wonder if there isn't too much description. The first paragraph, while vivid, doesn't really interest me. Also, since I'm old and out of touch, the brand names meant nothing.... Of course if it's YA, you might be able to assume that girls know what you are talking about. (I asked my boys and they looked at me clueless)
DeleteToo me the salient points from the first page are she's been awake for 24 hours, comes to this restaurant frequently, and is usually with her friends.
There is a hint of something at the end when she thinks about Bekah... but it's not enough to give me a hint what the book is about or what the conflict might be.
Hooray Teachers Write! Glad to see you here and looking forward to some good Friday Feedback as the summer goes on.
DeleteAs I was scrolling to the reply button, I saw the thoughts in my head echoed by those who already commented. I'm aware this is page one, and part of that makes me think "is she just adding in these details so we know the setting?" I think it's okay to let that develop for a little bit. We already know:
A lot of information about Emma
Where she is
When she is
Who her friends are
This, to me, just seems like a lot for page one. I think I'd be more forgiving of that as a reader if I had the hook a little earlier. I like the hook. I want to know what's going on with Bekah. I want to know what happens at this diner that Mary knows so much about them. But I got a little lost in the description before I realized that I care.
If this were my work, I might try to move that plot hook up earlier, and then go over the setting pieces later. Then again, I'm a fan of short, prologue-esque intros that come sort of "before" Chapter One. And this isn't my work.
What really does work for me, though, is the name-brand stuff. That reveals a lot to us about Emma, and also makes us question why she would not be wearing that in the first place. It builds that layer of mystery that you are no doubt going for. I'm intrigued. I don't know if I'm "hooked," but I'm intrigued.
My name is Michelle and this is my second summer participating in Teachers Write. Here's feedback: I'm very intrigued with this opening and I think it shows a lot about the character's lack of confidence, yet sensitivity to help those in need, like a hurt butterfly. The idea of using a butterfly to show that is original and I like that a lot!
ReplyDeleteThe first sentence didn't work for me: I move the wire hanger loop toward the butterfly’s abdomen, my thumb and forefinger pressed gently on the wings to steady it, my eyes darting to the image paused on my laptop screen.
It's descriptive and I like that, but for me, it's too long of a first sentence. I like shorter sentences to begin a story, as I think it makes it easier to understand and reread to figure out what's going on. That's very much a personal preference. I'm looking forward to reading more and finding out more about who this character is! Thanks for sharing!!
Uh-oh! Now it's my turn! (I need to say that writing fiction SCARES me and I'm so nervous about sharing this.) This is the beginning of a story about school: I want to know: Does it hook you? What works? What doesn't? Thanks for reading!
On a cool Monday morning in late September, the sun streams in as Miss Leone enjoys the silence and a cup of coffee. Soon, students will be pouring into the doors of Stapler Academy and straight to Room 229.
The bell rings and sixth graders fill the halls. Their laughter reverberates around the locker bay while they gather their supplies for the first block of the day. Miss Leone takes a deep breath, ready to greet her first block.
“Good morning everyone, how are you?” inquired Miss Leone.
In the front row sat Jack and he began everyday peeking through his brown bangs to looking for his new adventure. Jack smiled as Miss Leone asked the question because she was the kind of teacher who really wanted to know. He thought, this is going to be a good day.
Miss Leone nodded, “It will be a good day today.”
Weird, Jack thought, I didn’t say anything out loud. Hmmm? Miss Leone ignored Jack’s confused expression and continued walking through the maze of desks and checking in with the sixth graders.
Hi Michelle. I'm intrigued! This starts like a contemporary piece, but does this teacher have some sort of mind-reading capability? Definitely an interesting twist! Suggestions: Be careful with verb tense shifting. It starts in present and then changes to past. Also, in interviews I've read with literary agents and their first page preferences, they suggest not starting with the weather. You could lead off just with Miss Leone enjoying the silence and her coffee. The fact that it's the first day of school will establish what the season probably is. Great start. Love that Jack notices the strange response off the bat!
DeleteHi Michelle!
DeleteI'm just another wanna be writer. I'm not an expert nor am I a writing teacher. I am incredibly left brained and teach high school physics, so take everything I say with a grain of salt.
I think you need to take a good look at point of view for your story. Is it from Miss Leone's point of view or Jack's? Pick one and stick with it for the entire scene.
If this is Jack's story I'd start with him. Maybe he could show up early and see his teacher sitting quietly in the sunshine. Watching her sip her coffee. He could hang back from entering the room because she looks so serene.
It appears that Miss Leone read Jack's mind. If that wasn't your intention... big oops!
Also I felt like this was the first day of school even though it is late September.
I'd try to write this as if you were in the head of one of the characters, not both. Then describe it from their point of view. Right now you keep your distance from the characters. Google psychic distance and you can get a feel for what I mean.
How does this look? I chose Jack's point of view...
Miss Leone flashed Jack a smile. "I agree it will be a good day."
Jack looked around the room wondering who she was talking to. He hadn't actually said anything, had he? No one else seemed to have noticed anything strange. He settled back in his desk and followed Miss Leone's movements through the classroom with his eyes.
Amy & Nanette, Your observations are exactly where I struggle! Point of view...I know! :) And I know this may sound like such an elementary struggle, but verb tense seems to be something I don't seem to pay attention to when I write. And to answer your question, yes the idea is that the teacher can read minds. Thanks for the preliminary feedback. It's very much appreciated!
DeleteHi, Michelle, and welcome! And don't be scared. You did great. :D Of course, this is what happens when you leave to drive kids around: Amy and Nanette swoop in and give all the good and correct feedback re: tenses and POV shifts (you start in present and shift to past). If this is your first draft, that happens to all of us anyway. If it's a polished portion, then, yeah, you'll have to work on it and really settle in. One way to do that might be to really exaggerate it at first in your draft. What I mean is, to add little cue ins for yourself to keep the POV or voice straight, eg. overuse Jack's name and edit it out later. "Jack did..." this. "Then he did . . ." this. That may help you write the stuff that follows clearly from one consistent POV and then you can edit it out/clean it up later.
DeleteWhat I like and works is the mood you set right away. I'm not even sure how you do it so well, but I really feel the particular energy of the scene - a mix of sleepy and nerves, excited energy, something new about to happen. And I got that the teacher had read Jack's mind!
As for you concern with my first sentence, I too prefer short sentences, and what's funny is that as of last night, that was two sentences (maybe three) and I combined it when I was polishing, so, yeah, will go back and look at it again. :)
Gae, This IS a first draft! THANK YOU for the suggestion on how to fix it. I hope you understand how valuable and helpful your feedback (and Amy and Nanette, too) is to a novice fiction writer. I'm so grateful! Taking this risk to submit writing for feedback has been better than I imagined! :)
DeleteSo happy, Michelle! And so GRATEFUL for all the chiming in. THIS is what I love about Friday Feedback! It's really exhilarating, isn't it? So glad you were brave!!! Keep going. Want to hear more about Jack and his mind-reading teacher! :)
DeleteMichelle - I'm very hooked with your story opening. I actually like that there are 2 pov. Not knowing where your story is going from this point, my thought would be if you wanted to keep 2 MC's (Jack and the teacher), then maybe a chapter with Jack through his pov and then the next chapter with the teacher's pov. No matter what, I can't wait to hear more about Jack and his teacher (wish I could be a mind-reader!).
DeleteRenee, Thank you so much for the feedback! I'm so glad you like it. :) Interesting idea about switching POV. It's definitely something I'll think about!
DeleteArgh! Blogspot ate my comment. Sorry if it's not as good this time around.
DeleteI love books about this sort of "super power," especially in terms of a school, so I'm hooked. I want to know: is this common, or limited? Can everyone have a power? Does everyone have powers already? Is it all mind-reading, or are there other abilities? Is it a natural talent, or is there some operation? I WANT TO KNOW!
As for the POV, I won't comment too much as others have. But when you're dealing with mind reading, I think the story must not be told with an omniscient narrator. That takes all the surprise out of it for the reader. In this case, I think you need to be limited to Jack's perspective. It could still be 3rd person, but Jack's point of view is what I'd want as a reader. I want that mystery. I would start with Jack, and not Miss Leone, because of this.
Also, what do you think about emphasizing the "will" in Miss Leone's response to Jack's unspoken question?
Miss Leone nodded, “It will be a good day today.”
Some people are opposed to italics on principle, but I think it could add that needed meaning to this simple statement. If this is to be accessible to younger readers, especially, they may need that extra scaffolding. If your goal is high school and up, they'd probably be okay without the formatting change. Just something to think about.
Michelle,
DeleteI'm Todd, a first time camper and fourth grade teacher.
After the second read, I was confused as to why Mrs. Leone would ask, "How are you?" when she can read the students' minds? After the third read I started to think maybe she does this intentionally to, sort of, fish for thoughts to read.
I also wonder if she can only read Jack's mind or all students. If it is all students, the quiet moment before school would be much needed! That is usually how I start my day, and I can't read my fourth graders' minds - thank goodness!
I agree with the idea of playing with POV. I like the idea of showing both sides of this relationship, and I like how they intertwine here, happening in real time, rather than alternating by chapter. I am not skilled enough to know how to best accomplish this perspective juggling, but I do think it is worth experimenting with.
Todd and Brian, WOW! Thank you for your great feedback. You've given me so much to try during revision. I'm grateful for your thoughtful feedback!
DeleteHi Gae! I'm Amy, a first time Teachers Write camper. Thank you so much for putting yourself out there for feedback along with us and letting us know that even published authors still need help determining crap from brilliance! lol!
ReplyDeleteOk, for your piece. Does it hook me? Absolutely. You can set a butterfly's broken wing? I did not know this and was quickly drawn in just because I wanted to know how to do it! The last line of the excerpt nailed it for me, bringing home the parallel between what the MC was doing and what he/she thinks of him/herself. I love the tone of the video compared to the speaker's self doubt. "Cheers!" vs. "Yeah right." This establishes the voice really well. Suggestions? The first is technical. How is the MC holding the wire hanger loop? Is he/she holding a full hanger? Or is it just the loop that's been removed to use for the procedure. And I'm not sure it needs to be revealed yet, but I find myself wanting to know if this MC is male or female because I want to picture who was doing this. And one tiny, tiny thing, and this may just be preference. "Its wings pulse futiley – once, twice against the restraint like a heartbeat – before settling." I'm getting stuck on the word futiley, probably just because as a word itself it sounds strange rolling off the tongue. "Its futile wings pulse"? Not even sure if futile works like that. LOL. And now I can't believe I'm giving feedback to you because I'm still of the mind, "Who am I to say what's good or bad? You're published! I'm not!"
Ok. Deep breaths. Time to share. I write YA and NA. Because everyone seems to be sharing YA right now, I'll start with the opening to my YA speculative fiction. Thank you so much for doing this!
A name stares at me from my tablet, the first in a while with potential, the second of two required dates this month. Pausing briefly, I open the door to my home away from home, JOE.
He’s there, sitting at my favorite table. This has to be a good sign. When I walk in, he stands to greet me. Another sign.
“Hey, Livvy.” Though we’ve known each other all our lives, there is a shyness to his voice I have not heard before.
“Hey, Will.” The tiniest break in mine betrays my nervousness too.
I sit, and the tabletop scanner reads my identity from my tablet. My order history pops up, and Will laughs.
“Quite the purist, aren’t you?”
According to the stats, I’ve been to Joe each day for the past week, my order always the same—large black coffee, dark roast.
“Is there any other way?” He brings out the smile in me, and I think maybe I’m not so bad at this flirting thing.
His blue eyes fix on mine. The faint sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks are boyish reminders of playground chases and jumping off swings. But boyish he is not. I want to memorize the newness of Will Connelly in this moment, recreate him on my sketch pad. His smile is warm, and my cheeks flush. That’s when I realize I’m staring.
Hi Amy! Welcome to Teacher's Write! I love your opening... (ooops... gae already said that.) You opening really draws me into your story. I get a sense that your character is living in some other place/time and that her tablet is big brother in action.
DeleteI took me a while to figure out that JOE is some sort of restaurant and not the guys name. That's not a bad thing! I was proud of myself for making that connection.
I'm not sure how Will would see what is on her tablet. Does he crane his neck to look at it? Or does this place/time offer so little privacy that it flashes up on a public monitor at their table?
I would definitely read more! Keep up the sharing!
Nanette
Thanks, Nanette! I'm glad JOE works (hopefully). It's the name of the coffee shop. Thank you for your suggestions!
DeleteHi Amy! I enjoyed your excerpt! Right away I could tell that this may be some sort of dystopian novel. I liked your use of JOE as the name of a coffeehouse...clever! Overall, I think that this is a great start, and I want to know more about this Will character. The only criticism I have is with the very opening. I was confused by the lines...the first in a while with potential, the second of two required dates this month. But other than that, thanks for the great read! :) Jennie
DeleteHi Amy, I love the opening phrase "A name stares at me from my tablet"! It grabbs me right away and I want to know why a name is so important and why a tablet and why and why! I think you have a great rhythm to your writing and it flows really well. I'm intrigued about the two required dates (reminds me a bit of Matched). I wonder about the signs. Haven't they already been on a date? Don't they already know each other? Why is she looking for signs? I got stuck there. Everything else I really enjoyed and I'm looking forward to more!
DeleteHey, Amy, welcome! I agree with the readers who find this piece intriguing and agree and disagree with some of their feedback, which is why feedback is an art NOT a science... for example, I also really like the name JOE for the coffee shop, but was confused that that was what you were referring to. I'm actually confused by the logistics of the first para and wonder if you could simply reverse it so that Joe doesn't seem like it's referring to the name on the tablet:
Delete"I open the door to my home away from home, my favorite coffee shop, JOE, pausing to stare at the name on my tablet. The name stares back at me, the first in a while with potential, the second of two required dates this month."
I absolutely love the word required before dates -- it's an immediate hook, as we don't live in a world where dates are usually required. It does so much storytelling with one little word. I think the rest of your excerpt is strong and you are well on your way. Look forward to reading more. And thanks for your feedback on mine. All noted!
Thank you so much for your comments, Jennie, Michelle, and Gae. So terrifying to share but, wow, is this wonderful and valuable feedback!
DeleteAmy, YES! Terrifying is right but so worth it! (I apologize for the typo in my comments. I just saw it. UGH!) I was convinced everyone else would be amazing (they are) and I would NOT, but instead, I feel like I'm among friends who want to help me be a better writer. Happy Writing Amy!
DeleteHi, Jennie! I'm so excited too! So happy to have you here. :) I LOVE your opening page! Think it has great descriptions, a good set up and, yes, even a little hook as the mystery begins. Great work! If anything, the one thing I feel that doesn't work is that you over-enthusiastically "adjective." Yes, I just used adjective as a verb. These few paragraphs are so chock-full of them that it almost becomes hard as the reader to try to get my brain to picture them (that's what adjectives do after all -- they send a message to our brains to "picture this." Right? So, by the time i got to warm, crooked smile, I had already tired myself just the tiniest bit with all the other various descriptions (gentle eyes, coffee-stained cup, red-faux leather, petite 80-yr old woman)that I would have just been happy with either warm or crooked and didn't need both. I'm being over critical on this point, just so you can watch out for it, and did a really minor superspeed flash edit to remove just a few adjectives I would below, just to show you that, I think, it doesn't make a difference to the wonderfulness of the piece but makes the reader work less hard, which I think in an opening can be important. Others FEEL FREE to chime in if you disagree!!!
ReplyDeleteEmma Chaplin slid into her favorite corner booth at Cedar Oaks Diner. Thank God she decided to change out of those uncomfortable leggings and tunic and into a new pair of Lucky skinny jeans and polo. The giant staples holding together the ripped seat under her thigh had snagged her tights more times than she could count. After doing a quick scan of the small restaurant, she gingerly reached her manicured fingers underneath the red faux patent-leather booth. Her hand snapped back to her lap as the waitress came near.
“Coffee, Emma?” Mary asked, pushing a piping hot cup of black under Emma’s nose. Emma couldn’t say no. Not because the old woman’s gentle eyes urged her to take it or because it would warm the chill of early October, but because she had been awake for over 24 hours and could use the caffeine.
Emma’s fingers rapped on the side of the mug as the buckles on her Kenneth Cole riding boots tapped against the side of the table leg. Did Mary notice how anxious she was? She waited for the old woman to move on to the young hipster couple two booths over so she could continue her search.
Mary didn’t budge. “Where are the others tonight?” she asked with a warm smile.
Emma’s fingers circled the edge of the mug. She hadn’t asked Blake to come along. And when she texted Hattie, she received a terse reply of - Busy. And there was no way she would tell Mary why Bekah wasn’t with her. Could a sweet old woman even handle a truth like that?
Minor, minor stuff and me being OVERLY critical. Great work! Can't wait to read more.
Hi Gae! Thanks so much for the feedback. You're right....maybe I'm a bit adjective happy! Thanks for bringing that to my attention. :) Jennie
DeleteWell, I agree with whoever up there (down there?) said that they are all well or carefully chosen and they are! And you see how few I removed: one? two? Just that little bit -- allowing the reader to read in without being told and thus having to see -- can really make a difference. It's just food for thought as you move forward. Your writing is terrific, so you're on your way! You don't need me. ;)
DeleteHey Gae! Happy Friday!
ReplyDeleteMy first thought on reading your excerpt is for the poor butterfly. Did they really fail to fix it? or will the butterfly get up and fly away in a few minutes?
It makes the character come to life, but I still don't know if it is a boy or a girl. hmmm... but I know they really want to help a poor innocent little butterfly and are willing to try despite the fact that they don't think it will work. (And to be honest, neither do I. I want it to work... but yeah, fixing a butterfly wing sounds a bit unlikely)
I'm not sure who I'm cheering for more, the kid or the butterfly. I think the butterfly might win!
I have been writing a series of short stories about a college aged girl who met an angel. This discussion occurs during her philosophy class. She hasn't admitted to anyone that she has seen and talked to an angel. She's not even sure it IS an angel.
Thanks for reading everyone! I'd love to hear what lots of people think.
- - - -
“Angels are like God’s messengers?” I couldn’t help but think of my angel, Jakenel.
I think the entire class gave a sigh of relief when the professor nodded at my reply instead of going off on a rant.
“Do you think angels are real? Some physical manifestation of celestial beings?” The professor asked in a too conversational voice. I, and everyone else in the class, realized he was going to lead me into a trap. Oh well, that’s probably what I get for not contributing enough.
“I’m not sure about physical manifestation, but I think there is something out there that can interact with us and somehow change the outcome of events.” I spoke slowly, thinking through each word. I looked around the class, no one was snickering. Maybe it was because the Dr. Duncan was so intently listening to my words.
“I see. So you are saying there are beings out there that exist only on the spiritual plane that can assist us. But you aren’t willing to say it’s an angel? Correct?”
I chewed on my lower lip. “But if they have wings, don’t they have to be angels?”
“Are birds angels? Or bats? Perhaps a flying squirrel? They have wings and so they must also be angels.” He shook his head sadly and walked back to his podium.
Now I knew how so many of my classmates must have felt when he ridiculed their beliefs. Not that I believed in angels, as much as I had met one. I jumped out of my seat and challenged him. “That’s not a fair comparison. Birds, bats and squirrels have a corporeal body. Angels do not!”
Nanette, will be back to read your excerpt soon, but, yes, believe it or not, this comes from a real video on how to repair a broken butterfly wing and the guys shows you how to do it and the butterfly flies away after! As my narrator says, in real life, those videos don't always work as easily as we wish. You'll have to keep reading to find out if it does here or not! Okay, back soon! Have to go drive my kid places!
DeleteHi Nanette! First off, I love a good angel story. Some of my favorite YA is urban fantasy with angels (Laini Taylor's Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy are my favorite angel books so far). You are taking this into the new adult realm, which I love! I like the interplay between the MC and professor who obviously doesn't believe. A tiny suggestion pertaining to this line by the MC: "I chewed on my lower lip. 'But if they have wings, don’t they have to be angels?'" This for some reason didn't jive with me as a response to the prof. questioning her about not wanting to admit angels were real. I guess I want a clearer idea of what the argument is here between the two. Is she preparing to defend that angels exist or trying to hide that she knows they do? I'd definitely keep reading! Love angel myths!
DeleteOkay, Nanette, first and foremost, welcome back to Friday Feedback. Second, I love this piece and am totally intrigued by the dialogue and the basis of the discussion. What I feel is that the actions around the dialogue -- which may be what Amy is sort of hinting at with the lip chewing -- almost served to dilute or take away from the drama of what I think is a fairly dramatic scene. This professor is a hardass -- maybe haughty -- right? And this girl is going to challenge him in a way that makes her nervous about something that is already making her off balance. In front of a whole class. It's hard for me to explain how I would do this vs. show you how to start tweaking the action around the dialogue to build the drama rather than water it down, so I took the liberty to do a superspeed flash edit. Not so much for you to use MY choice of words OR actions, but to see how I'm trying to use the actions ("business" around the dialogue to increase the building drama of a scene we can all so relate to!) See what you think conceptually:
DeleteAngels are like God’s messengers?” I couldn’t help but think of my angel, Jakenel.
I think the entire class gave a sigh of relief when the professor merely nodded instead of going off on a rant.
“Do you think angels are real? Some physical manifestation of celestial beings?” The professor was being too conversational. He was going to try to lead me into a trap.
“I’m not sure about physical manifestation,” I started slowly, “but I think there is something out there that can interact with us and somehow change the outcome of events.” I looked around the class. No one was snickering at my answer, but you could tell they were waiting intently for Dr. Duncan’s response.
“I see.” He tapped his fingers together, then stared at me purposefully. “So you are saying there are beings out there that exist only on the spiritual plane that can assist us. But you aren’t willing to say it’s an angel? Correct?”
I could feel my jaw clench, and my face redden. “But if they have wings, don’t they have to be angels?”
“Are birds angels? Or bats? Perhaps a flying squirrel? They have wings and so they must also be angels.” He shook his head and walked back to his podium.
Now I knew how so many of my classmates must have felt when he ridiculed their beliefs. Not that I believed in angels, as much as I had met one. I jumped out of my seat and challenged him. “That’s not a fair comparison. Birds, bats and squirrels have a corporeal body. Angels do not!”
I love it! You aren't changing much, but it makes a huge difference. No wonder I love you {{{Gae}}}
Deleteoh, phew. I never know if I'm going to be loved or hated. Kind of like not knowing crap from a gem. ;) <3 Yay!
DeleteHey, guys, have to run out for a while and do parental driving duties. Will be back in a bit! Yikes, there are already a LOT of you! Be patient with me! I will make my way through! xox
ReplyDeleteHi, Gae. I am Stephanie, a Teachers Write Camper and 6th and 7th LA teacher.
ReplyDeleteWas I hooked: Immediately. After the first few lines, I started to ask, "Is this person in a bio lab? Enjoy capturing and mutilating insects for fun? An entomologist?" As I continued to read, that delicious, difficult dissonance that ensues when you aren't quite sure what's going on lasted just the right amount of time and then dissolved as I figured it out. Also worked: the tag-team narration between the character and the person in the video. I could visualize this very clearly, especially because I have done this with other types of videos myself and could identify well with the character--they are not as easy to follow as they seem! Your excerpt left me wanting more--I want to know why this character is so gentle, patient, interested in helping this butterfly and why they feel like they shouldn't try to fix anything else. Thanks for sharing!
Hi, Stephanie! Welcome to Friday Feedback and thanks for your feedback! Ah, yes, me too. That cool looking video fix that doesn't work at all like they say it will -- or at least as easily as they say it will/demonstrate -- on the video. Thumping a pomegranate comes to mind. Can you say, Pomegranate seeds all over my kitchen counter and floor?! Liars!
DeleteAnyway, welcome. Glad you are here!
Thumping a pomegranate? I'll have to look that one up! Better yet, I'll let my son do the experimenting. He's the one that loves 'em. I might even get a clean kitchen floor if he makes a big enough mess.
DeleteHi Gae. I'm Christine, TeachersWrite virgin and middle school teacher. Loved your piece. It hooked me quickly and even more so when I realized the MC was helping the butterfly and not collecting it. I agree with the other campers about the voice being well established with the contrast of the MC and the video. Well done. Everything worked for me, but I noticed some of the other comments talked about gender. I envisioned a male MC and here's why: words like abdomen, guy, shake ridiculously and plow forward. I got the impression this character wasn't totally invested in helping, they were doing it for someone else, like a potential love interest or a little sister and that's why they were so worried about failing. I don't know if any of that matters, but that's what I envisioned.
ReplyDeleteMy excerpt is from the middle of my YA novel. I've workshopped the beginning so many times that I need to move on. This is where I am stuck. I am struggling with where to go after this part and I'm worried I'm losing my character's voice due to the massive changes in her life. In this part, my MC has been struggling with the idea of meeting her birth mother. Her friend/love interest has just tricked her into meeting the birth mother who abandoned her at Target as a toddler.
I stood, frozen. How could she be my birth mother? I knew exactly who she was. I had seen her, spoken to her, a handful of times. She was the woman behind the counter the first time we were at the catering company. She was the short, brown haired woman at the funeral who asked if I was Kaitlin. The woman who signed the guest book at the funeral, who’s curvy “S” had been traced by my finger over and over. The woman who abandoned me in a restroom thirteen years ago. But she was not the woman from my dreams. She was not the woman I had tried to sketch over and over again, trying desperately to remember what she looked like. She was white.
Miles squeezed my shoulders. “Kaitlin,”
“No, Miles. Don’t!” I shook free of his grip, sat down in the booth and dropped my head to the table, burying my face into my arms. This was too much. Why couldn’t I remember this? I tried. I searched my entire memory looking for hints, dreams and memories of spending the first four years of my life with a white mother. “How?” I banged my fists on the table.
Sierra put her hand on my shoulder. “Kaitlin, honey, do you want to do this here or would you rather go back to your apartment?”
“Honey? What gives you the right to call me honey?” I shook her hand from my shoulder and stood up. “I’M NOT YOUR HONEY! You gave that up thirteen years ago! And why? Was I too dark for you? Did the novelty of a black baby finally wear off?" Miles stood next to me, took both my hands in one of his and lifted my chin so I would make eye contact with him.
“Hey. Let’s go to the apartment. You can yell all you want there. People are starin’, and I know management here, we’re gonna to end up talkin’ at the police station if you keep up yellin’ like this at a white woman.” Miles whispered to me with a comforting tone.
I jerked my chin away from him and glared at Sierra who now sat calmly at the table. “Fine.” I didn’t say another word until Miles and I were in the car.
Christine, welcome! We sacrifice virgins here! Okay, fine, we don't. :) So glad you are here. And, I love your piece. It's totally working for me. The subject matter is intriguing and the writing is completely adept! So, yay! If I was forced to try and make use of myself on your behalf, I would merely say there are a few places especially (or really, actually only) in the latter half that you could pull back unneeded stage direction, because I'm a real "less is more" person when it comes to that. When it's not needed and taken away, the piece just sings and pops that much more. See what you think (if you can even find what i've done. It's minimal). But really, it's great as it is:
Delete“Honey? What gives you the right to call me honey?” I shook her hand from my shoulder and stood up. “I’M NOT YOUR HONEY! You gave that up thirteen years ago! And why? Was I too dark for you? Did the novelty of a black baby finally wear off?" Miles stood next to me, took both my hands in his and lifted my chin so I'd look at him.
“Hey. Let’s go to the apartment. You can yell all you want there. People are starin’, and I know management here, we’re gonna to end up talkin’ at the police station if you keep up yellin’ like this at a white woman.”
I jerked my chin away and glared at Sierra who sat calmly at the table. “Fine.” I didn’t say another word until Miles and I were in the car.
Anyway, great work! Keep going!
I like your setup for the story. It wasn't what I was expecting. The mother being white when the girl is so obviously not offers great tension.
DeleteI LOVE this line... Was I too dark for you? Did the novelty of a black baby finally wear off?
I feel it sets the whole tone for the novel even if this is happening in the middle of the book.
Thank you both! I have to admit this tone/tension is the part where I am scared. It is not something I've experienced, but certainly something I've seen. So your feedback means a lot! I guess this is where the term "write scared" comes in.
Deleteloving this----definitely hooked! keep going, because I can't wait to see where you go with this.
DeleteGood morning everyone! I am a second year camper and SO excited for this experience! I'm about to go back and read/comment on everyone's writing, but I'm also in the throes of getting our Girl Scout slumber party ready for tonight---so I'll have to do it in bits and spurts. On to the work...my WIP is an adult Southern chick-lit novel. I want to write YA--I'm a YA librarian and read it constantly, but Joelle's voice won't get out of my head yet---- here goes:
ReplyDeleteYou know, I used to be the kind of girl guys wrote sonnets about. Now I spend my days up to my elbows in dishwashing liquid at the kitchen sink. Not that I’m complaining…not too much, anyhow. I really like my life most of the time, but sometimes I look in the mirror and am taken by surprise at the image that I see. Sometimes I sit and have a wistful moment and remember the young me…the one with the world at her fingertips, believing really and truly that anything was possible if you put your mind to it. The one that had boys flittering like junebugs around the garden lamp and I wonder just where that girl has gone. I see her in my Abby now, and I don’t know whether I feel more proud about that, or more terrified. I guess that’s pretty normal, but I sure don’t want her to make the same choices I did. And yet, I wouldn't have her if I hadn't made a few of those rather disastrous choices. She is the light of my life and the apple of my eye—even if she does think, in all her teenage “wisdom” that her mama is one big bundle of idiot worries and fun-sucking ideas. Oh, but I want the world for her—and I’m beginning to want the world for myself again, too.
Mrs. S, welcome back, happy summer and all that good stuff. I really love this piece. It's quite simple and lovely and full of longing, and you make me feel the longing, which is wonderful. The last line of the excerpt is a terrific, quiet little hook -- it tells me the narrator is about to embark on a change, and that there's going to be conflict in it. So good work. I really don't have much constructive criticism... maybe the only thing i might do, because what you describe in this excerpt is SO universal a feeling and thought process if you are my age, at least, that you might want to pull back on the more used phrases: like apple of my eye. It almost could feel cliche coupled with the light of my life, even those are both things we absolutely feel. Wonder if you could push yourself to create your own description. But again, this is just me trying to make use of myself. Keep going. Isn't it great when we get the voice stuck in our head and it refuses to leave? ;)
ReplyDeletethank you, thank you, Gae---your thoughts are very appreciated! will work on pushing into a new description-- and YES! I'm loving that Joelle refuses to leave. ;) Now to just finish it---the whole sticky wicket of my writing--finishing.
DeleteGood morning. My name is Nathan and I teach high school English in the Seattle area. I am also a first year camper (feel free to whack me with the paddle as part of the hazing ceremony). I am going to throw everyone for a loop and post an intro for a book idea for a non-fiction text. This concept came out of a conversation I had with a coworker about the function of letters of recommendations. The intro is raw, but does the content grab your attention? What would you like to hear more of? What should I omit? I included a lot of rhetorical questions. Are they monotonous? Do they pique your interest? Use and abuse as you see fit:
ReplyDelete----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From the first day of school till the day before graduation, I am asked to write letters of recommendations. In each letter I try to think of an anecdote or a sample of writing that exemplifies the spirit of each student. I feel each letter is an invitation: for me to dabble as a writer and to showcase the achievements of my students to the outside world. I also naively hope my letters convince jaded admissions officers to admit my students to the college of their dreams.
Last winter, I attended my school district’s college fair. I asked admission officers from prestigious colleges such as Stanford, Harvard, and UC Berkeley how much clout letters of recommendation have in the application process. Their answer was surprising. The reps from Stanford and Harvard confessed that students who apply to each of these schools are expected to have glowing letters of recommendations. It is the admissions statements that separate the wheat from the chaff. The rep from Berkeley told me the Cal system stopped accepting letters of recommendations altogether. Now a holistic approach is used for admissions, which includes looking at a student’s grades, SAT scores, extracurricular activities, and academic progress.
The revelation that letters of recommendations are becoming irrelevant leads to a whole series of questions: Are teacher’s assessment of their students’ ability without merit? Do transcripts and SAT, or, ACT scores matter more than a student’s character? Can a college applicant better account for himself in his admission statement than a teacher does in a letter of rec? If the answer to all these questions is “yes,” why do students keep asking me to write letters on their behalf?
In this book I hope to answer all these questions and meditate on why we value a letter of recommendation. How have letters of recommendations become important? Why have they fallen out of favor with top colleges? Do they still matter in the job market? I have kept most of the letters I have written throughout my career. I am going to reread them. I will seek out five former students and investigate whether my letter had on any impact on them being admitted to college, or earning a scholarship. Did they even read my letter? Did my words have any meaningful impact on their lives? I am hoping yes, but maybe I am deluding myself. Is my time better spent clicking “Like” on a student’s Facebook profile?
you posted just as I was taking a break, Nathan! happy to see you and your humor here! I'll be back soon with feedback!
DeleteHi Nathan. I'm a new camper, too, and at this point am a bit more drawn to nonfiction myself. (Who could blame me, with all the great fiction ideas and talent already on display here!) My first reaction to your piece is: What an interesting idea. I have friends whose children are coming up on college, and I know they would find this a valuable resource. What I like most is that it grew out of your own experience, so you will be better able to add tidbits like quotes from actual letters and anecdotes from student experiences. As I was reading, I kept thinking that this would actually make a great topic for an Opinion piece in a newspaper/online site. That could be a jumping off point for your book and also might generate more discussion about the subject and what's out there in terms of other resources and people's feelings. You'll have to keep us all posted on your next steps!
DeleteOkay, so I'm back and ready to tackle you. Er, well, your excerpt. :) First, I must state that I am not an authority on non-fiction (well, I'm not really an authority on much, so there's that, but...) so, I can only give you my sort of gut feelings on this. Having said that, I agree with kimc that the topic itself is totally intriguing and unique! What a fascinating idea that raises fascinating questions. Have you asked too many in this write up? Maybe a tad, but I'm not sure. I like all the questions, so play with removing one or two that are least important or most repetitive, and see if it packs more punch. Question: Is it letters of recommendations or letters of recommendation, singular on the second noun? Don't think I've ever seen them both written as plural nouns. Thought the letters was the only plural part??
DeleteAlso, this language confused me a bit: "The reps from Stanford and Harvard confessed that students who apply to each of these schools are expected to have glowing letters of recommendations. It is the admissions statements that separate the wheat from the chaff." Maybe it would help if you inserted the words "It is not the letters of recommendation but the admissions statements that separate..." ?
Lastly, watch out for too many unattributed pronouns... I am confused about who the "they" is in the question that follows the statement here: Are you talking about the students or admissions officers? If you're talking about the admissions officers, how would the students know if the letters were read? If you're talking about the students... don't a lot of students waive the right to read their letters of recommendation? I know my son did. Allegedly, the letters carry more impact if you do?
At any rate, the idea and the intro are both very intriguing. Glad to have you here.
I will seek out five former students and investigate whether my letter had on any impact on them being admitted to college, or earning a scholarship. Did they even read my letter?
oops, not sure how those last three paragraphs of mine to you got so muddled. They were supposed to read like this:
DeleteLastly, watch out for too many unattributed pronouns... I am confused about who the "they" is in the question that follows the statement here: "I will seek out five former students and investigate whether my letter had on any impact on them being admitted to college, or earning a scholarship. Did they even read my letter?"
Are you talking about the students or admissions officers in using "they?" If you're talking about the admissions officers, how would the students know if the letters were read? If you're talking about the students... don't a lot of students waive the right to read their letters of recommendation? I know my son did. Allegedly, the letters carry more impact if you do?
At any rate, the idea and the intro are both very intriguing. Glad to have you here.
Okay, I think I'm all caught up for now. Going to take a break and get some other things done. My promotional materials are due to my publicist for The Summer of Letting Go today. Yikes! But exciting.
ReplyDeleteThanks for all the great feedback on my excerpt. Because I've rewritten this so many times and it was always very clear in the original opening that my narrator was a girl, I hadn't realized in this completely rewritten one that it might be unclear. So, I will definitely go back and look at that and some of your other great suggestions. :)
Thanks to all the campers for chiming in with feedback and being so supportive and thoughtful. It's fun here, isn't it?! Back soon! - gae
Hi Gae. As I mentioned to Nathan, I'm a new camper and am really enjoying the feedback everyone is getting/giving. I'm not ready to contribute anything myself just yet, but have been reflecting for now on how I will be able to use this feedback with my students (for example, your suggestion for making sure POV stays the same by using the name repeatedly in early drafts). I did want to add that I enjoyed your own excerpt. It pulled me in because it was a blend of normal and not normal: Using a Youtube video to help with a project (normal); using it to repair a butterfly (NOT normal). For some reason I thought of something a comedian friend once told me: The difference between an amateur and a professional comedian is that one makes you think "Yeah, that's right," and the other, "Hey, I never thought of it that way." Your opening had that "Hey..." effect on me. As for tweaks, only one very minor one (which you should ignore if you're in suggestion overload): the use of the word "it". In these two lines, "I take a deep breath and hold it," "I take another breath, hold it," I wasn't sure if you meant the butterfly/its wing/or your breath. Fun fact: My favorite word in Spanish is the word for butterfly: Mariposa. Looking forward to reading more!
DeleteThanks, kim! You jump in with your own work whenever you are ready. This camp moves at YOUR pace, not ours. :) Thanks for the feedback. Agree on the its. Think I replaced one this morning on the actual draft! So good call. ;) If you can take tools learned here and on any of the other blogs back to your students, I think that's a great coup! Hope there's more where that came from as we go!
DeleteHelloooo everyone!! My name is Megan Bostic. I am a YA author and friend of Gae's. I poked my head in a couple times last summer, thought I'd pop in today and check things out.
ReplyDeleteI happen to love Gae's writing and this is what I will say about this excerpt:
Yes, hooked totally.
What works. I think you portray the protagonists anxiety perfectly. I would feel exactly the same way. I hate doing tiny things with my fingers and I would fear failing and know my hands would be shaky. Also, you have us rooting for the protagonist. We want her (him?) to save this butterfly, and then we feel their devastation at the end of the excerpt when the butterfly just lies there, as if we standing there with her.
What doesn't work. If there were anything, I think maybe a little too much commentary from the video. That's just being nit-picky though to come up with something.
Here's my entry. I'm actually at work so had to find an excerpt off of my blog from my current WIP because I left my jump drive at home. This book is based on the 2011 tornadoes that blew through the south. This journal entry begins the book and this journal ends up tattered and torn in the form of debris in a boys yard.
March 18, 2011
I’m tired. Tired of living in this sardine can of a home with its lack of windows, torn curtains, and the smell of dog piss emanating throughout. I’m tired of going through the motions as daughter, sister, and friend when I feel like nothing more than a speck of dust on a window pane ready to be wiped clean away. I’m tired of the snobs and flakes and posers at school who think they’re either better than you, smarter than you, or more pathetic than you and take pride in it. When did we come to strive for depression. The Emo boy and girls with their dark makeup and their skinny jeans brood in the hallways acting as if their blue-collar lives are pure hell while they listen to their iPods, play on their Xboxes, and talk on their cell phones.
They don’t know what it truly is to ache. What it’s like to watch your dad walk out the door and never come back. To watch your mom spend every waking moment with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. To be the sole provider for your family, the mother to your sister. To be mocked and bullied at school because of it all.
And this journal, and the art, it’s not enough anymore. I can’t do it. I’m ready to free fall from life, to plunge into the unknown.
I’m ready to let death take me away from this place. I don’t care what’s waiting for me on the other side. It has to be better than this . . .
Megan, as you know, I am uber excited about this book, and I know this must be a rough piece, since you've just started it. I love that it has all your "earmark" Megan darkness. You know that teen world -- those teen kids -- so well. But I'm also wishing, especially if it's an opening, for some speck of light... so I care about this girl rather than feel like she's just negative and whining and want to shy away from her because, why invest when she's so negative and bleak? I have just read the book Save the Cat, and it's the exact reason I put the butterfly scene above in my opening. I'll talk more about the book in subsequent posts, or better yet, I think Jen Vincent is going to in her Sunday posts in detail -- but I want one tiny thing to hold on to to let me know why I want to risk being invested in this girl. It could be as simple (and I'm overstating a cliche example to make a point) as her looking up and smiling as she remembers some good moment and we get to see her smile (through her words) and go, oh we want to ride with her to see if she gets back to that place. It could be her being vulnerable by burying her head in a cat and trying not to cry (again, she'd have to show us this through pausing in her journal). The writing is great, but I just want to like her rather than be like "bleak, doomed, gah!" and I was hoping for that when you said, "And this journal..." that maybe before she dismisses it and talks about dying, she pages to a drawing she made and lets us in on it or something. I know it's the boy reading her journal, but since you start with her perspective, we need to have some glimmer to be willing to ride. BUT, others may utterly disagree with me. So, merely food for thought.
DeleteThis is difficult and I'm hoping to indie publish or if traditional again have a publisher who will really work with me on this because this is what I want to do...I want to have beautiful art doodles throughout the notebook that have something to do with her entries. Like on this page I have a butterfly with little whirly doodles and stars beneath it. It's so hard to explain it, but that gives a little shed of light to her darkness. And this one above starts the book, but is not her first entry, so you're actually given a small glimpse in the middle of her spiral downward then start at the beginning.
DeleteDoes that make sense? But I totally understand what you're saying, and yes, maybe I should add a bit of written light to that darkness.
yes, makes sense. I think that would do the trick too. Something lighter to latch on to and invest in... lovely little drawing, yes.
DeleteHello everyone!
ReplyDeleteThis is my first Teacherswrite. I was thrilled when I learned about it. I am in the middle of writing my first book for middle schoolers. My working title is "Monster Hunters." My insert is in the middle of Chapter 2. I know this chapter needs tons of help. But first a brief summery! Elizabeth has just moved into a house. She's been told by the neighborhood kids that there's a monster living there which she is very skeptical about. Then the night comes . . .
She wakes up hot and sticky and goes looking for a fan.
Peeling her hair off of her neck, Elizabeth decided she had enough. She knew which box had the small fans. She’d marked every box with a different symbol so she could organize it into the next home easily, a tip she’d gotten from a book on how to move more efficiently. Grabbing her Aunt’s cellphone from the TV tray she’d managed to nab, she rolled off the bed.
I hope the box isn’t in the cellar, she thought as she tiptoed downstairs, turning the flashlight on the cellphone on. The stairs flowed straight into the living room with the kitchen off to the right. She turned on the flashlight, sending its yellow probe out. Boxes were scattered everywhere. All of her symbols were shuffled. She was going to have to search.
She was turning a box around when she heard a slight puff behind her. She turned expecting to see her Aunt with her hands on her hips. Nothing. A chill went down her spine. She was usually good at knowing when someone was near. She’d been pretty sure she felt someone standing at the foot of the stairs. Slowly she turned back to checking the boxes. Her back felt horribly exposed as she continued scanning them.
Hello, scribe and welcome! If you're comfortable would love your real first name. :) Anyway, a great job building the tension in this scene, I love it! Of course, we all want to scream at Elizabeth not to go down the stairs alone! ;)
DeleteOne of the things you do that weakens your writing here IMHO is use too many "ing" words. It's sort of common wisdom that they are more passive you start your first two paras with those "___ing her ____" lead ins. If you take those away, and eliminate or replace a few of the other ing verbs (I counted 9 here), it makes all the rest of the work around it pop much more, feel more active and engaging, I think. But I'm no expert, so see what you think:
Elizabeth peeled her hair off her neck. She decided she’d had enough. She knew which box had the small fans. She’d marked every box with a different symbol so she could organize it into the next home easily, a tip she’d gotten from a book on how to move more efficiently. Grabbing her Aunt’s cellphone from the TV tray she’d managed to nab, she rolled off the bed.
I hope the box isn’t in the cellar, she thought as she tiptoed downstairs, aiming the cellphone’s flashlight in front of her. The stairs flowed straight into the living room with the kitchen off to the right. She moved the flashlight around, sending its yellow beam about. Boxes were scattered everywhere. All of her symbols were shuffled. She was going to have to search.
As she slid a box around, she heard a slight puff behind her. She turned expecting to see her Aunt with her hands on her hips. Nothing. A chill went down her spine. She was usually good at knowing when someone was near. She’d been pretty sure she felt someone at the foot of the stairs. Slowly she turned back to the boxes. Her back felt horribly exposed as she continued to scan.
The "ing" thing is quite common, even in my own drafts. There's nothing wrong with them, unless there get to be too many... especially the "she was ____ing" verbs become much more passive feeling than the "she _____." She was kicking me and I balked. She kicked me and I balked. See?
Great work. I really do want to know now what she finds in those boxes! Keep going!
Hey, all, I hope when I do these superspeed flash edits, especially like I just did above to merely kill some of the ing verbs, you can see how little I touch and what a big impact it can have. It's not that I'm rewriting any of your substantive work. It just always amazes me that such a few small tweaks or omissions can really make a piece sing. Anyway... Think I'm caught up again! Back soon! xox
ReplyDeleteNow I feel silly. I forgot to mention my name. I guess I got over excited. My name is Theresa.
ReplyDeleteHi, Theresa! Will try to remember for next week. If not, remind me. :\ :)
DeleteHello,
ReplyDeleteI’m Jessica (@PrincipalJ) and new to Teachers Write and will try to join as much as possible, although I’m also working on non-fiction writing this summer.
Here’s my feedback on Gae’s piece:Am I hooked? Definitely. I’m curious to find out more about the character, why he/she’s trying to fix a butterfly wing and what happens next. I connected with how the character went back and forth from a youtube clip to trying it on his/her own (as we all do). This helped build the suspense to see if it would work to repair the butterfly’s wing.
Here are the first couple paragraphs of a manuscript I wrote geared towards 3-5th graders that are obsessed with the game Minecraft:
It was Saturday morning, Nathan's very favorite day of the week. This is the day that his parents sleep in...until 8:00, that is. That's as late as Alex will let them sleep in. Alex is 2 and a half and just like any little brother, he follows Nathan around no matter what he does and tries to join him. Nathan is a 9 year-old, third grader and likes to get up before anyone else in the house wakes up just so he can play his favorite computer game without Alex trying to join him, or his mom keeping track of his "screen time."
The time on the computer says 5:36. Nathan knows that's really early and should buy him enough time to build the new castle in Blockworld that he’s been planning in his mind. He is completely addicted to playing Blockworld and would play it 24/7 if he could (24/7 is what mom says for every minute of every day and is irritated that he is that addicted to a computer game). Every kid who plays Blockworld agrees...it's the "coolest game ever,” because kids can build whatever they want inside the game world and can even play online to join their friends in each others' Blockworld creations.
Hi, Jessica and welcome! And let me just say I have two older boys who love Minecraft, so I think it's a great subject for an MG book!
DeleteI think since this is a start, you really want to hook the reader with all the exciting stuff in the opening: that its' a Saturday morning and Nathan is going to basically sneak Blockworld time while his parents are sleeping. Every kid can relate to this -doing it or wanting to, and it holds immediate conflict, enticement, and tension. The other stuff about his baby brother and his age is important, but maybe you could hold off on it and add it in right after (basically switching around some info) which I think would perk up some of the excitement (also note that your first sentence is in past tense and the ones after that are in present - so you need to pick one. For this superspeed flash edit, I'll stay in present for all ;)):
It’s Saturday morning, Nathan's very favorite day of the week. Why? This is the day that his parents sleep in, so Nathan wakes up early, before anyone else, just so he can play his favorite computer game, Blockworld, without his baby brother Alex trying to join in, or his mom keeping track of his screen time.
The time on the computer says 5:36 a.m. Nathan knows this should buy him enough time to build the new castle he’s been planning in his mind. He’s completely addicted to Blockworld and would play it 24/7 if he could (24/7 is what Mom says when she means every minute of every day and is irritated that he’s addicted to a computer game). Every kid who plays Blockworld agrees…it's the "coolest game ever,” because kids can build whatever they want inside the game world and can even join their friends in each others' Blockworld creations.
Nathan is nine and in third grade so it really annoys him when two-year old Alex tries to join in. He only wants to press all the buttons…
You get the gist. What do you think? Can you feel the difference? Btw, it's really okay to use contractions. I know in school we often learn not to and to constantly do he is, she is, but in many places it makes the writing cleaner to use the he's and she's. If so, feel free! :)
Good start! Keep going!
Also, Jessica, if you were to add in him having to tiptoe, or hearing a noise, or telling the reader what the consequences would be if he violates his mom's screen time rule, you'd add even more tension! :)
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
Deletequick fyi, I asked my son and he said he at least knows 5th and 6th graders who play it and are obsessed with it, so that's 10-11. :)
DeleteThank you so much for your feedback Gae! I wrote this book to try to hook my Minecraft obsessed son into reading!
DeleteAny chance you know of any agents that I could send my MS to (after my revisions of course!). I feel like they'd have to know something about gaming for me to send it to them.
Good Morning:- Now afternnoon:My name is Joanne. I am a year two Teacher write camper - last year I read and learned this year I am posting! New step for me.
ReplyDeleteGae - I love your writing in this piece - I like that real science is brought into the fiction. I love the mixing of information into a story - even when the focus of the piece is not the science. I really want to know what is behind this fixing of a butterfly wing. The information it gives us about the character is great. You learn about her through her thinking.
I am an unsteady fiction writing so this is hard but exciting. I am working on an intermediate picture book - think 3rd.4th - maybe 5th. I am including a small section. I am not sure how this will work since a story moves quickly in a picture book. The section I am sharing comes from about 1/4 way into the story. I am now thinking it might need to be the opening. I would love to know what questions it brings up for you.
working title - In Matisse's Studio
It was day four and we were at it again. My parents wanted to walk around in a place called the Cimiez Amphitheater Park and then go to another museum. I had enough of looking. I declared I was not taking one more walk or looking at one more painting. A kid just gets funky every once in a while. I like art, but all this looking really got to me. I wanted to do art, not just look at it. I knew that I could make some of that stuff I saw. It was all just lines, colors, and shapes.
“I just want to sit in the park and draw,” I said. “It’s a beautiful day. I can just stay here while you go look.”
My parents stared at each other for a minute. They finally decided that it was safe to leave me there for “a little while”. After all, the museum was right on the park grounds, just down the walk.
I was just sitting there under a tree and drawing cartoon faces when these leaves started falling. They were pretty big and I kept brushing them away.
Then I realized that the leaves were red, green, orange, and blue. Heck, what tree has blue leaves or leaves this big and heavy?
I turned to see this old guy in a wheelchair. He was sitting there cutting with the largest scissors I have ever seen. They were cool scissors. He was cutting large sheets of paper with paint on them. All those crazy colored leaves were actually the pieces of paper that old guy was cutting up.
(My art teacher at home had a word for that paint—something that starts with a g—but who remembers that stuff? I don’t.)
“Are you bored or sad?” the old guy asked me.
I wasn’t sure I should answer him. I got the stranger danger lecture more than once in my life and I do listen once in awhile to what my parents say. Besides, he was a little weird-looking with those scissors in his hands. He didn’t really seem mean or anything—just a little different. I decided that it couldn’t hurt to talk to him.
“I’m on break from school,” I said. “Most kids go to places that are fun, like Disney World or a water park. I ended up here.”
He looked puzzled and I don’t think he understood what Disney World was. I did not speak French and his English wasn’t the best. I tried to explain to him about rides like the ferris wheel and roller coasters, and shows with dancers and people who walk on high wires.
He laughed and smiled. “It sounds a bit like the cirque.” I didn’t know what that word meant, but it sounded like circus. So I nodded and smiled back.
“Come on,” he said. “I will show you.”
I knew I would be in trouble going with a stranger. But this sounded like it might be the most fun I’d have for days. I helped gather his paper leaves and pushed him in his wheelchair down the path. We were headed towards a house with large windows.
Oh, man. It was clear there was no circus there. What the heck was I doing?
Hi, Joanne, so glad you're braving the posting this year! Hooray! I'm not a picture book expert AT ALL, so all I can do it give you feedback on words and story and my gut. I am curious what type of picture book -- maybe a like a Peter Sis type? -- because it seems like a lot of words for only a small piece of a picture book. Like I said, I'm not the best person on that part. Anyway, I love that this will have something to do with Matisse and I love the imagery of these large painted leaves falling, and this girl who wants to make art not keep looking at it. Think it's a great concept for a story.
DeleteOn the constructive criticism part, I fear you share my "just" disease. No fear, there are a lot of us who share it (and it's not terminal, "just" needs to be treated. Hah! I also have the "even" disease. Often the just and even disease go hand in hand.) I counted at least five justs before I just decided to do a superspeed flash edit to pull a few of those and some other unnecessary or repetitive words out (e.g. I changed the second walk to step so as not to have all the walks) to help the writing around it shine some more. So, here it is. Good work. Keep going!
It was day four and we were at it again. My parents wanted to walk around in a place called the Cimiez Amphitheater Park and then go to another museum. I’d had enough looking. I declared I was not taking one more step or looking at one more painting. A kid just gets funky once in a while. I like art, but all this looking really got to me. I wanted to make art, not look at it. I knew that I could make some of that stuff I saw. It was all just lines, colors, and shapes.
“I want to sit in the park and draw,” I said. “It’s a beautiful day. I can stay here while you go look.”
My parents stared at each other for a minute, then decided it was safe to leave me for “a little while”. After all, the museum was right on the park grounds, a short way down the walk.
I was sitting there under a tree drawing cartoon faces when leaves started falling. They were big and I kept brushing them away.
I quickly realized that the leaves were red, green, orange, and blue. Blue? Heck, what tree had blue leaves or leaves that were so big and heavy?
I turned to see an old man in a wheelchair. He was cutting large sheets of paper with paint on them, with the largest scissors I had ever seen. All those crazy colored leaves were pieces of paper the old man was cutting up.
(My art teacher at home had a word for that paint—something that starts with a g—but who remembers that stuff? I don’t.)
“Are you bored or sad?” the old man asked me.
I wasn’t sure I should answer him. I’d gotten the stranger danger lecture more than once in my life and I do listen to what my parents say. Besides, he was a little weird-looking with those scissors in his hands. He didn’t seem mean or anything—just a little different. I decided that it couldn’t hurt to talk to him.
“I’m on break from school,” I said. “Most kids go to places that are fun, like Disney World or a water park. I ended up here.”
He looked puzzled and I don’t think he understood what Disney World was. I did not speak French and his English wasn’t the best. I tried to explain to him about rides like the ferris wheel and roller coasters, and shows with dancers and people who walk on high wires.
He laughed and smiled. “It sounds a bit like the cirque.” I didn’t know what that word meant, but it sounded like circus. So I nodded and smiled back.
“Come on,” he said. “I will show you.”
I knew I would get in trouble for going with a stranger. But this sounded like it might be the most fun I’d have for days. I helped gather his paper leaves and pushed him in his wheelchair down the path. We were headed towards a house with large windows.
Oh, man. It was clear there was no circus there. What the heck was I doing?
Thanks - good feedback! Yes this is a more involved picture book. Think Patricia Palacco books. Thanks again. Joanne
DeleteHi Gae--
ReplyDeleteI'm glad Teacher's Write and Friday Feedback is back. I loved last summer.
Hook? YES! Does the butterfly live? Why was the narrator trying to repair the butterfly wing?
What worked? The shock as I realized the narrator was trying to help the butterfly instead of preserve it as a specimen. In particular, the line "I don't think I can do it" (I thought not being able to kill the butterfly)into the next paragraph of the video demonstrating how to repair the wing.
I was a little lost in picturing just what the narrator needed to do/was doing to repair the wing, but that may have been because I'm still trying to wrap my brain around, "you can actually repair a butterfly's wing?" I definitely want to know more.
Here's a piece of writing I started yesterday in a workshop with Tom Romano (one of the best teachers I've ever written under, even if just for one day). It is the beginning, and I still need to write the rest of the story.
I stared at the window crank on the car door. Which way was I supposed to turn it to close the window? For the life of me I couldn't remember. And it was for my life that I had to remember.
Bees blanketed the outside of the window One by one they crawled through the tiny crack that had been left open to let out my father's cigarette smoke on the drive over. Once inside the care, they dive-bombed the two largest targets--my brother and me.
As the first few bees wormed their way in and buzzed around, I screamed and flailed my arms. So did my brother. It didn't do any good. The bees kept swarming through the invisible crack in the window. Ten, twenty, thirty bees. The buzzing swelled louder than our screams. I could feel hot jabs of pain on my head and across my arms, but I couldn't stop it.
Wow, Kay, since I know you started this yesterday, I know it's still rough, so I'm not going to deal with much minor stuff except to say that it's really intriguing and I actually felt terror in my chest from that opening paragraph. As you tighten the ones that follow, it will only get better from how good it is now. Great hook. Keep going!
DeleteHi Gae. I’m Leslie Fitzgerald, a “sorta” second year Teachers Write! camper. I was signed up to camp last year, but I hid in my sleeping bag and refused to come out and play. I’m really excited to be back this year and to actually participate…besides, my sleeping bag has a funny smell from spending the winter in the garage! I’ll start my virgin TW post with a response to you, and then I will follow with an excerpt of my own.
ReplyDeleteJack Kerouac is Dead to Me Feedback
Does it hook you? I was instantly interested in the story and wanted to know what was happening. The voice is fresh, and current, so I felt engaged. I think my middle school students would keep reading (although I’m not sure about the pornographic content you mentioned!)
What works? The switch between the YouTube video and the narrator’s voice is excellent, and the imagery is well developed.
What doesn't? Even though I like the narrator’s voice, I feel a little removed because I can’t really picture him/her. I know this is a brief excerpt from the beginning, so it may be that this is easily remedied by reading a bit further (*hint*hint)! Also, a tiny nit-picky detail, I don’t like the line “release him free” in the final bit from the YouTube video. I’m not sure why this bothers me, but it felt awkward.
Thanks for sharing this with us, and for this amazing opportunity to camp with such amazing counselors.
Below are the first five paragraphs from an untitled YA novel. I would like responses to the same three questions Gae asked: Did it hook you? What worked? What didn’t? Thanks in advance!
ReplyDelete“Harper, turn the music down!” my mom yelled from the kitchen. If I had known her conversation was going to ruin my life, I would have let the guitars scream, but I just popped my ear buds in and ate another peanut butter covered pretzel.
I knew Mom was talking to Auntie June because I heard Livin’ on a Prayer, the vile 80’s pop song they both loved, blaring before mom grabbed her cell. Aunt June and my Mom became BFF’s in fifth grade. A bully tried to take my mom’s lunch. June knocked him to the ground and shook him down for two dollars and some pocket lint. Mom often says, “I don’t condone the violence, but I’m so glad I have June in my life.”
Every time she says this, I feel a little sick. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad mom has a bestie, but Auntie June comes with a high price, at least for me.
One of my cheap ear buds slipped from my ear and Mom’s voice drifted up the stairs. “How is Shayla adjusting to her busy schedule?” And there it was, the price I pay for June in our lives.
Shayla and I were born two weeks apart. She was first, of course. Our moms were so excited to be brand new mommies together. They signed the four of us up for every Baby Yoga and toddler swimming class in town. Mom says that even as a baby, I resisted Shayla’s charms while almost everyone else, infant to adult, fell at her feet.
Welcome, Leslie. Already your sleeping bag seems way less musty from being in the open air. :) Thanks for your feedback on my exerpt (and to all of you! I'm taking it in, even if I don't mention it!)
DeleteReally enjoyed your opening. The first para is a great hook with the "if I had known the conversation was going to ruin my life..."
You also do a great job sort of establishing FOUR different characters pretty well in five paras -- Harper, Mom, June, and Shayla -- which, I think, is pretty impressive.
If anything, I'm struggling a bit with your tenses, mostly past but that middle para in present (i know there's a reason, but it still distracted me a bit. Maybe play with it. Could you go with, "every time she said this it made me feel a little sick... Auntie June came with a high price..." ?? Like I said, play with it. Also, just in terms of characters names: Aunt June or Auntie June? And, btw, love the introduction of Aunt June and the "... shook him for two dollars and some pocket lint." HAH! Keep going! Good work. :)
Hi! I'm Renee Brandon (@temperain25) and this is my first time joining Teachers Write. I used love to write and got away from it, so I'm excited to be writing again. I teach 5th grade ELA and SS.
ReplyDeleteFor Gae's piece - Hooked= Yes! I love how you get drawn into the procedure, the MC, the butterfly, all of it. I love the feeling of a letdown and almost reassurance to not try anything complicated. I can relate to that, as I am sure most kids can too.
Okay, for my piece, this is a REALLY rough draft. Literally just wrote it today, although the idea has been brewing for a couple of days. I tend to just sit and write - not plot things out. I'm not even too sure what it is although I'm thinking YA. Oh, and it would be my first chapter. Hope you like it. Thanks!
------
The clouds were gathering slowly in the distance. Not a good sign, I thought. From my perch in the massive oak I could feel the wind pick up. The scent of bonfire smoke and angry voices carried strongly through the air. As my curiosity got the better of me, I began to climb down. Making my way through the branches, I could see people were beginning to gather on the other side of the hill. What is going on, I wondered. Reaching the ground I began to make my way towards the hill.
Slowly I climbed our town’s biggest hill to look down into the valley below. Our quiet town is a secluded place surrounded by the ocean and massive hills. I always thought it was really cool at how protected we seemed to be. Maybe that’s why our town has survived for so many centuries.
Finally reaching the top, I truly hoped that my eyes and ears were deceiving me. The voices were clearer but what was being shouted wasn’t making sense and the images that went with it made my stomach begin to churn and my hands tingle.
“Witch!”
“She’s a witch!!”
My brain went into overdrive. This can’t be happening! This is 21st Century, people don’t do this anymore!
Hands bound behind her back, eyes searching the crowd for help, stood my neighbor, Mrs. Bishop. She had taught at our town’s middle school for as long as I can remember. Sweet, yet firm, Mrs. Bishop knew how to get her students to work and learn their history. She was one of my favorite teachers, one I had felt drawn to.
Suddenly a thick rope was tossed over one of our town’s strong tree branches and I noticed something even more horrifying – the noose. It was around Mrs. Bishop’s neck. The air surrounding our town grew oppressive and tense as if even nature was holding its breath.
“Elizabeth Bishop, you have been accused of being a witch. Within your home were books from the 1600’s with physick recipes. Because of this you have been denied a trial and will hang on this day, June 10, 2012, just as your ancestor did 320 years ago, then your body will be burned. May God save your soul.”
CRACK!
Please be a dream – this can’t be real! I open my eyes.
Renee, Thanks for sharing! I read your comment on Facebook and I can relate. Sharing here is scary, but I'm so glad you did. You have such an interesting idea here: a witch in this century? WoW! How did this happen? Your story surprised me and I love when I am reading something and I can't figure out what's going to happen. Suggestions: I'd get to the witch part more quickly. There's lots of description (which I like), but it slows down the story. I think it can come out as the story progresses. Please keep sharing because I want to know what happens to this middle school teacher.
DeleteHi, Renee, and welcome to Friday Feedback. I know how good it feels to get back to writing after a long time not, so yay!
DeleteI agree with Michelle H. that your subject matter -- a modern day Crucible so far anyway -- is totally intriguing, and you do have a lot of great description going in there. Since you only wrote this today and have declared its ROUGHness ;) I'm going to let you polish before I do any editing for you. You're doing the right thing IMHO and plowing forward. Right the story in the excitement of it, and polish later! Having said that, if you want, scroll up and read my feedback to "the scribe" up there and make sure you watch out for passive "were _____ing" language. Used too much, it can really weaken and slow a piece down, as can other more passive language. So for quick example only:
THIS: "The voices were clearer but what was being shouted wasn’t making sense and the images that went with it made my stomach begin to churn and my hands tingle."
COULD BE THIS: The voices were clearer but what they shouted didn't make sense, and worse, what I saw made my stomach churn and my hands tingle.
Keep going. Good work!
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh. So many excerpts to read through. Gae, first off, thank you for posting mine this morning. I'm excited to read the feedback, as that part NEEDS some serious revision. At least I don't have to worry about anyone stealing it ;-)
ReplyDeleteOkay. Some feedback on yours.
It does hook me, at the end. If you didn't end with that line, I'd be interested, but I don't know if I'd be sure to continue or not. But at the end, with "I should know better than to try to fix anything", I get this overwhelming sense of story about her (her? him?). Clearly there's something else under the surface. Probably many failed attempts to fix things in her(/his) life before (else why would she(/he) know better?). I want to know about that. I'm often intrigued by "broken" narrators, and that's the sense I get from this line. Broken, and needing fixing, but unable to do it herself(/himself).
The thing that doesn't really work for me has to do with the narrator's hands. There's a hand holding down the butterfly, a hand holding the wire, hands shaking, a hand dabbing glue, and a hand pressing play again. It's not that her(/his) hands can't do all these things, it just seems. . .like a lot of things for hands to hold all at once. It interferes with my visual a bit, though I think adding in lines that tell us how the switch between these things happens might make it too clunky. Well, it'd be too clunky if I wrote it. You're talented enough to figure it out (or to realize it's not needed).
Also: YAY FOR TEACHERS WRITE!
Brian
Brian, I love you. That is all.
Delete*runs to check all the hands*
Well, here goes nothing! This is Stephanie again--new to Teachers Write! and 6th and 7th LA teacher. I am a bit hesitant to post here because I am not an author, I am no where close to being an author, I don't have works in progress that are meant to become great novels, and the writing I do have is mainly personal or professional (blogging.) Authorial aspirations exist, but they are stuck in a closet somewhere and the door knob has gotten loose so it just spins and is impossible for them to get out. I suppose this summer is when I coax myself to open the door from the other side.
ReplyDeleteThis is the opening from a piece I had been working on. It is fiction, but heavily based on my experience while studying abroad in Rome in college. I felt encouraged to share it after seeing posts on the FB page and reading the excerpts and feedback today. Currently, it is in three parts--each from a different character's POV. The characters do not know each other in the larger story, but somehow relate to one another or cross one another's paths in some way. Each character is a varying degree of "tourist." This starts with Maddy who is the study abroad student who doesn't consider herself a tourist at all. The working title is "Tourist Season." Thank you for taking the time to read.
***
Traveling is a pain, Maddy thought. She stood in the open doorway of a breakfast bar called Café Renata and watched a mother maneuver her way out of a silver Mercedes minivan, the standard for a Roman airport shuttle. With a toddler in one arm and a faux Louis Vuitton dangling from the other, the clueless woman fumbled with her wallet. Maddy watched her overpay the driver by fifty euro. He ran his fingers through his thick, black hair and pocketed the cash before reaching for the rest of the luggage in the trunk of the van. After he propped the woman's third suitcase against the curb, he winked at her, climbed in the van, and honked his way down the narrow one-way street.
“But, wait,” the mother yelled after the van that had just disappeared around the corner. “Aspetta un’attimo!” she added desperately in respectable, yet mechanical Italian. Her Bostonian accent bled through the foreign words like an open wound. That’s probably the only thing she knows how to say, Maddy thought. The woman stood, helpless, in the center of the street, paying no attention to the motorini whizzing past or the large laundry truck that was heading in her direction.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she pled, entirely to herself.
Maddy felt sorry for her, but only a little. Beneath a pristine sky, she flicked her sunglasses from the top of her forehead onto her face.
“Tourist,” she sighed.
When she leaned back against the door and thought about it, Maddy realized that playing the role of tourist could either be exciting or exhausting, depending on whom you ask. Some travelers live for the fanny pack and the folded map; they relish time spent on street corners, nose-deep in the latest guide book and pointing in one direction or another with a clueless, yet contented look on their faces. Others meticulously research pre-excursion; each day is planned in advance as the streets and alleyways leading to chosen landmarks or monuments are committed to memory.
In the midst of a crowd of people passing the bar, Maddy saw a couple of girls who fit that bill. They were dressed to the nines, sporting Chanel sunglasses and Prada bags, their shiny, dark hair pulled back into two identical, bouncing ponytails. They had long legs and long torsos and save for their loud mouths, they could probably pass for Italians. This was clearly their goal, as they strutted down the sidewalk with an air of confidence toward an unknown destination; but their babbling English ruined any chance of it ever happening.
Well, look at you, Stephanie, not at all an author, yet posting a terrific piece of work! Funny how that works. :) I'm really intrigued by your title, the concept and the tone you set. Some really nice touches. I particularly love this little bit:
ReplyDeleteWith a toddler in one arm and a faux Louis Vuitton dangling from the other, the clueless woman fumbled with her wallet. Maddy watched her overpay the driver by fifty euro. He ran his fingers through his thick, black hair and pocketed the cash before reaching for the rest of the luggage in the trunk of the van. After he propped the woman's third suitcase against the curb, he winked at her, climbed in the van, and honked his way down the narrow one-way street.
Just lovely.
The only thing I might bear in mind is that, you're starting with Maddy, and she seems just a tad bitchy. Maybe she is, but she's our first glimpse, so just take care to keep us wanting to read about her. Maybe some tiny tidbit of vulnerability? Food for thought.
Keep going!
She totally is! (Her vulnerability comes in the next paragraph.) Thanks for the kind words!!
DeleteHi, all. I'm Todd (@toddar21), a fourth grade teacher, and a Teachers Write newbie. I have really just started writing in the last two years. It is so much more interesting to teach kids to write when they can see me struggle through things and, a lot of times, help me through those struggles.
ReplyDeleteI am sharing the beginning of a short story, possibly middle-grade picture book, called WHAT A NERD! Here goes!
Sheila didn’t need to wake up. She had hardly slept all night. The wooden case she had stuffed under her pillow probably didn’t help. Today was Sheila’s share day at school, and she couldn’t wait.
Inside the case were all kinds of bugs. Sheila’s bugs.
She had spent all summer at her grandmother’s house collecting every kind of bug she could find. Big bugs, little bugs, round bugs, long bugs, and nearly invisible bugs. Smelly bugs, slimy bugs, light bugs and dark bugs. Bugs with six legs, bugs with eight legs, bugs with...so many legs!
Sheila knew that her class would be excited to see her bugs. She imagined the questions they would ask;
“Where did you find that one?!”
“Are any of those bugs poisonous?!?”
“Can we touch them?!
Sheila rushed downstairs before her dad left for work. “Dad, can you drive me to school today? I want to keep my collection safe, and I don’t trust those fifth graders on the bus!”
“Of course, Bug,” he replied.
“Bug.” Sheila’s father had started calling her that after she brought in a grasshopper on their first night at gramma’s. They spent the rest of the night on the internet reading and watching videos to find out as much as they could about this particular insect. They spent each summer night after that doing the same thing, each time with a different bug.
Todd, First of all I can't wait to see what happens when she brings all the bugs to class. I'm imagining it being my classroom, AARRGGHH! (I'm a bit bug-phobic.) The list of big bugs, little bugs...made me smile and this description lends itself to a picture book. I'd love to see that illustration! (Hmm, what about a graphic novel? That thought just popped into my head.) Also, I LOVE that the little girl is called "Bug" by her dad. That left such a warm feeling! Can't wait to see what happens next. (I can see this being a big hit with many of my sixth graders!)
DeleteTodd, what's to say? This is adorable. A girl who sleeps with her box of bugs under her pillow and is called Bug. I love her imaging the questions they will ask. Is it going to work out that way or will she be disappointed?!
ReplyDeleteI'm staying tuned to find out. :)
gae
Thanks, Gae and Michelle for the kind words. I revised the heck out of that beginning. Glad to hear it works!
DeleteAs for the rest of the story, I am in the middle of a major revision that puts MC more in control of the story. Struggling a bit, but I think it will be worth it.
Okay, all, that's it for me today. I'll be back sporadically tomorrow -- my son graduates from high school (*weeps*) so a busy day at my house. If not much tomorrow, will be back Sunday to catch up. Hope you had fun here today. And thanks for all the feedback on my excerpt. All noted!
ReplyDeletexox gae
Congratulations on your son’s graduation!! You must be so proud. I have a 5th grade son and the thought of him graduating and leaving home makes me hyperventilate. Poor little mama’s boy. Hi, I’m Amanda and I’m a first timer here. I’m an elementary special ed teacher. Wow, y’all are talented. My English teachers always got on me for not participating in class. Who am I to critique anyone's writing? So feel free to get on me for not being a critic. I’m a failure as Steel Magnolia; the sweet, Southern woman who can criticize so sweetly (ending with “Bless your heart”) that you never know what hit you. So, right now I'll just share something I've been working on. The story is told from the perspective of three 17 year old girls. They travel the south with their parents; hardcore skeptics trying to disprove the existence of ghosts in order to up the value of “haunted” houses. One of the girls, however, believes she can communicate with the dead. Here are paragraphs from the point of view of 2 of them:.
DeleteWhen you critique me, please just end it with a “Bless your heart...”
RUNA:
My dad used to talk to dead people. Specifically those who had died in untimely, gruesome deaths. Rick slipped on wet leaves while cutting down a redwood. The tree fell, so did his head, by way of chainsaw. Peggy was found in her apartment, wearing her pet boa constrictor as a scarf. A 450-pound man who had tripped on the escalator at Target crushed Paula. The best was Hooper, the zookeeper. Hooper’s elephant, Friendly, had been constipated for some time. A steady diet of prunes, figs and laxatives had caused quite an explosion, and poor unfortunate Hooper was pulled from the wreckage after 5 minutes of frantic digging.
When I was a kid, Dad had a daytime talk show called “In Touch With Tragedy”. The bereaved families of these tragic victims plead with dad to tell them something, anything that their loved one wanted to share from the grave. Dad, lit from behind by a gentle, filtered light, a la Barbara Walters, would gently share messages from the dearly departed. Sometimes it was heartwarming;“I will be with you, watching over you always.” kind of stuff. Dad liked to keep it real, though, often adding in comments such as, “Don’t forget to turn off the kitchen lights” or “The azalea bushes need pruning.” The dead like to keep a tidy house, too, I guess.
The show was wildly successful, even though it was no secret that my dad was totally full of, well, elephant shit.
HAVERTY
My parents were total freaks. Really, I can actually say that. They were real circus freaks before I came along. My papa has a forked tongue. And fangs. And horns. He wasn’t born with any of it, but it’s all I know. The horns are made of coral, and he had them implanted by the same doctor who had slit his tongue into a fork and filed his teeth to sharp, vampire-like points. The thing about coral is that it calcifies and has actually grown into his skull permanently. His face is covered in a tattoo of a spider web. I’ve only seen his real face in old pictures at my Grandma Joan’s house.
My mom looks pretty normal on the outside. She has tattoo sleeves running up both arms, but next to papa she’s like Laura Ingalls Wilder. Her gig was body suspension. She still claims that the biggest rush she ever had came from hanging 50 feet off the ground from 2 meat hooks stuck through the skin on her back. She’s gone back to the circus. I see her a couple of times a year. But for the most part, I travel with my dad.
I’m a bit of a freak myself. No body modifications here, just a crazy teen growth spurt that has left me topping 6 feet and weighing only about 100 pounds. I’ve tried both modeling and basketball, but apparently both of those pastimes require a girl who can stand upright for more than 60 seconds without tripping over a wire, a step, or most often, her own feet.
Hey Amanda, Bless your Sweet Heart. There, I put it right up front where you can see it. ;) Welcome to Friday Feedback.
DeleteYour piece is very intriguing. Both the concept and the details. It feels very fresh and unique.
What doesn't quite work for me is that the two girls sound the same to me in voice and tone - so the writing is great and interesting, but they sound like they are coming from the same girl (although Runa is funnier, but their cadences etc. just sound the same). One helpful thing to do might be to come up with a quirk or particular tic or trait for each girl that is distinct and maybe really exaggerate each girl's differences in the first draft and then tone it down in revision, so it feels authentic, andnyou can really let each character sound distinct.
Can't wait to read more. Keep going!
Gae,
ReplyDeleteHi. I'm back this year but still working on the same two manuscripts, so you may see something familiar.
I have a problem, though. I subscribed to your blog, but the email alert doesn't come until the next day, so I didn't know until today (and reading your post on FB) that you were starting Friday Feedback. I admit I didn't read all the comments either. You must be excited and daunted by the overwhelming response.
I did read your excerpt. I like the juxtaposition of the narrator and the video. I didn't know you could attempt to heal a broken butterfly wing. The only change I would suggest would be to take out the word futilely. You don't need it, the metaphor carries the image.
I am continuing to work on a novel in verse and posted one of the verses on my Poetry Friday blog post. I mentioned last year's Friday Feedback that led me to reviving this WIP. http://reflectionsontheteche.wordpress.com/2013/06/21/verse-novels/
Great to be back! Thanks!
Margaret
Welcome back, Margaret! Will try to get over to your blog, but I'm quite overwhelmed with still trying to catch up here and it's been a crazy week to boot. Glad to have you popping over though! xox
DeleteMorning, all! Had a great swim this a.m. Close to two miles despite platter-sized jellyfish that made us squeal like girls every few feet. Harmless but gross. But still exhilarating. Or perhaps moreso. May have burned more calories shrieking than swimming. :\
ReplyDeleteAt any rate, John Scovil is having trouble posting to my blog for some reason, so I'm posting his note and piece for him. Will be back in a bit (or so I hope -- if not, later tonight or tomorrow) to comment on his and other new submissions. Hope you're all warming up for the official start of Teachers Write on Monday. xox gae
From John Scovil:
Here is a piece that I have been working on sporadically for about a year...geesh. It is very rough and crappy. I have three total manuscripts that I am working on. I would love to hear what you have to say. A little experiment that scared the crap(py) out of me is that I printed off the first chapter and gave it to some 5th graders to read...it was interesting and scary all at the same time.
I am John (@johnlit360) and am a staff developer at an elementary school in southern Utah. This is my second year doing TeachersWrite and I love to write even though it's hard and I am a nerdy! Can't wait to meet many of you virtually through writing.
I punched the Incredible Hulk right in the face!
Yup. You heard that right! Lil’ Jesse Jangles, fifth grade ultra nerd, apparently stole his grandma’s wig and haphazardly butchered it to look like the Incredible Hulk’s hair and then took a pair of his dad’s jeans and cut them off to make shorts. Just like the Incredible Hulks, or so he thought.
When he jumped out of the bushes to scare us, his cut off jean shorts got caught on the bush and almost fell off showing his tighty whiteys. After I nailed him in his face, he got up off the ground with red blood mixing with his green face. Luckily, I didn’t break his nose, just his feelings. He started to cry, which made his face look like more of a green mess.
My mom dropped me, along with two of my friends, Nicky and Lucy, off on Cherry Street to Trick-or-Treat. Every house on the street had their lights on (which means they have candy to give away…tons of candy, I hope) along with music, fake ghosts hanging over the street, and characters from TV and movies roving around the street scaring kids. Some houses had music blaring from their boomboxes. Some songs were from the new movie The Ghostbusters. Perfect for us. We love to be scared.
Some kids were being dropped off by their parents. A lot of kids were riding their bikes to the street to check out what everyone at school was talking about. A few kids who lived on the street told everyone to come out and see what a cool street they were living on. The message spread like wildfire throughout the school. Of course, I had to see what they were talking about. But first, I had to ask my mom.
I rode my bike as fast as I could after school to ask my mom if I could go. I knew she would say yes.
Thanks Gae! : )
Hey John, nice to see you here. I like this sweet little piece, and want to hear what your 5th graders said about it. Way more important than what I say.I think in the second to last para, you can combine some stuff into fewer sentences/details and move forward to what they were talking about, partly because I want to know. :)
Deletexox gae
Hi everyone! I am a third grade teacher and mom of two boys - 4 and 2! This is my first year joining Teachers Write! I have a few comments, and hope to have more coming...
ReplyDeleteGae - I was definitely curious about the importance of the butterfly, but wasn't truly hooked until the line, "...I've watched it three or four times....So why didn't I trust myself?" I also like knowing the gender of the MC early on. My ears definitely prickled after reading the last line! Can't wait to read more!
Brian - I like how you set up the different HS cliques, although, at first I thought I was in school. I'd like to know we are at the party. Perhaps narrator can mention different characters as he notices their state of costumed or not costumed? (Not sure where this event is in the ms.) I liked the tar and feathering- especially if we, the reader, knows Angela has done something to deserve it...or we're wondering what she's done?? :)
Jennie - I like the mystery of Emma's change of clothes and why she has been awake for 24 hours. I definitely get a sense of her class, but felt there were a few extra descriptors - maybe save some for later? I'd like to hear more of her voice to build a little more tension.
Now it's my turn for feedback. I wrote this PB last winter, during a few snowed-in days with my boys - who were then 3 and 1. Here's the first third. Thanks for reading!
LITTLE BROTHERS ARE NOT MONSTERS
Hi, my name is Andrew. This is my little brother Alex. He used to be a baby. Life was good then. Now, he crawls and tries to stand up. Mommy calls him Curious. I call him Alex Monster!
When Alex was a baby, he sat in a brown, bouncy chair and watched everybody. He was buckled in so he wouldn’t fall out. I watched all my favorite TV shows and played with all my toys in the family room.
Now Alex stands in a bouncer. When he jumps up and down, it makes noise. BANG! CRASH! He also screams and pushes buttons that play terrible music. The whole thing is way too loud. I yell for Mommy to make him be quiet. But then I get told not to yell! Oh, and when he’s in the bouncer, he gets to watch his baby shows. I do not like baby shows.
When Alex was a baby, he sat in this squishy, blue chair. Mommy put rings and rattles on the tray and he played. I played with my favorite trains.
Now, he can crawl. He doesn’t want to sit in that blue chair anymore. So where does he crawl? Right over to my toys! I don’t want him to play with my toys. I told Mommy to buy him his own toys. I try to take my toys back from him. Mommy tells me I have to make a trade. Daddy tells me I have to share. But they are my toys!
Hi, Jessica, welcome to Friday Feedback. I have to offer the disclaimer that I'm really not a picture book expert (though I love them and wish to write one one day :)) I think you have some great stuff here, but what I'd love to see you do is take some of the minute details out and focus more on exaggerating or exploring the bigger ones. It almost feels too personal - like ripped exactly from your conversations and what happened in your house and I think it may need to be fictionalized to be bigger and more "story." I'm really tired so, I'm not being as eloquent as i wish. Maybe one of the other campers will come along and rescue me by explaining what I am talking about. Or maybe I'll try again tomorrow when it's not so late and I'm not so tired. Keep going with it, and don't be afraid to make it bigger. gae
DeleteHi Gae!
ReplyDeleteI'm Kristin, a first time camper, and just finished my first year as a beginning teacher mentor.
There's A LOT to read and respond to so I'll just start with what you posted and try to work from there.
Does it hook you?
At first I was horrified that the character was killing a butterfly (I was reading on my iPhone...which seemed to make a difference in my ability to read) so after opening the blog post on my laptop I was relieved to read that the character was attempting to rescue an injured butterfly. Sorry. As I read through my response it seems like nonsense but I'll leave it.
Ok, so, I was hooked primarily because I wanted to see what would happen with the butterfly. Would the character be able to help the butterfly with first aid method? I wondered what had happened to get to this point...? Had the character been part of causing the injury? Or, did she stumble across the butterfly somehow?
What works?
Two things for me worked. One: I could relate to the fact that I've researched remedies on the internet; watched video repeatedly; only to have that feeling of "yeah, right, like this is going to work." Two: You wrote, "once, twice against the restraint like a heartbeat". I cannot seem to put my thought/finger on it but this resonated with me. It was this amazing visual in my mind...I could see the behavior. And then the butterfly stopped as if giving up or fatigued. It stuck with me. I'll get better at explaining why.
What doesn't?
Nothing, yet, doesn't work for me. I actually want to read more and find myself hoping that the butterfly is just in a state of shock before actually flying away. I want to know this character...
Am I being too simplistic in my response/thoughts? Responding to adult writing, especially one that is published, is as scary for me as putting my own writing out there. Wow!
Hi, Kristin, I'll be back tomorrow. thought I could get thru these last few quick before I went to sleep, but I'm not being as useful/eloquent as I wanted, so I'll be back tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteOh, hah, I could have responded last night, because you didn't yet put an excerpt up! I think your response is perfect so far... we're just starting and, anyway, as I mention elsewhere, there's really only so much feedback we can really offer on a brief excerpt. So while I am using these excerpts to try to teach a bit about some common pitfalls we all suffer -- repetition of words (esp. just and even in YA writing), overuse of tiny unneeded details, inauthentic sounding language, yada yada yada, ALL the feedback needs to be taken with a grain of salt, as it's really unfair to judge anything by a few paragraphs. :) So, you done just great.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I just want to add this about hook -- and it's not an answer, more a question/concept to mull over. I notice how many of us -- myself included -- are like, "well, you don't hook me until the fifth line" or tenth line or 18th... it's interesting to watch for hooks in other books. In the old days, an author could really luxuriate in an opening -- take a look at To Kill a Mockingbird for example. The first several pages are all description. Now, not so much. BUT, I do think there are different ways to hook a reader: 1. is with the presentation of an immediate conflict (which we're aiming for sooner than later, but may not come until page two or three or five, and I do think we have that room IF 2. is present, and (so) 2. is with beautiful or compelling writing. So, I don't want any of us to think we need to hook by line three or we're screwed. Again, why it's hard to know much with such short excerpts. I know I often want to yell -- as I bet you do -- "that comes in the next paragraph!" or the next page. And so it does. So, again, all the information and work we do here is illustrative only, and intended to help, but not make you frantic. :)
ReplyDeletexox gae
IF I HAVE MISSED ANYONE's EXCERPT (there are a LOT of posts to scroll through here) PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE flag me again!
ReplyDeleteWow, I just read all of your posts and found I wanted to read all of your stories. I am inspired by all of you. I hope to chime in on the feedback as the summer goes on. While I still have the nerve, I wanted to post the beginning to a story I am writing. I am an ESL middle school teacher and I learn more from my students than I will ever teach them. I write about their lives, their journey, their challenges and their love. I know it is Sunday, but it took me several days to jump in. So here goes... (yikes!)
ReplyDeleteAs the boat skidded across the surface of the water, the sea foam danced around us and in my pocket the jackfruit seeds became a constant torturous reminder of my longing. Etched in my memory were the emotional ties and the unconditional love I had left behind. Yet, the rest of my body was blanketed with wretched sea sickness, extreme thirst, hunger and my skin burned to the color of anger. Each day the boat swiftly put distance between what I knew as my home and moved me farther out into the unknown. I was thankful that my stomach preoccupied my thoughts. It was a blessing because if I allowed my fears to be unleashed, I may have chosen to jump into the large abyss in an effort to assuage my hopelessness. Somehow, some way I chose to survive. Somehow I know it was the jackfruit seeds that facilitated hope, ignited my need to engage in living, hold fast to perseverance and to keep my mother’s dreams alive.
Just a few days ago, the mother that I loved so much had hugged me tight and said good – bye. The good bye we exchanged was uncomfortably casual, but I knew in my heart I needed to carve her face in my memory. Yet unspoken, we both knew it may have been our last contact. The very last time we would see each other face to face and embrace.
Although time seemed to fast forward as the distance from the shore grew, it was only two weeks ago that my mother asked me to put out my hand. As I stretched out my hand to her, she gently opened my palm and in it she delicately placed the jackfruit seeds as though they were precious jewels. Folding her hands over my mine to emulate protection of the seeds, I felt calm and courageous. She did it in such a loving way I felt her strong desire to protect me. My mother did not look into my eyes, controlling her trembling voice; she spoke about stretching my branches, sharing the fruits of my labor and absorbing all the sweetness of life.
“Take these seeds and carry them with you as a reminder,” she exclaimed.
Retreating quickly from me, she stepped away and I know now if we held each other in an embrace, we may have never let each other go. Although I was a young man in my early 20’s at the time, I did not fully grasp the unconditional love and sacrifice of a parent. I still to this day ponder her inner strength to say good bye and watch me walk away.
Using only the stars as our guide, now feeling alone and isolated amongst 50 or more, we had all fled the violence, the fear and war. However, I began to wonder which fears were worse: those of an unpredictable government or those of an unknown future. As the boat drifted into a direction that none of us knew, only time would tell…
Donna, welcome,
ReplyDeleteso glad you braved it and posted. What an exquisite way to finish out the first week of Friday Feedback. I have half a mind to put up police tape and declare your post the last of this week, and that this FF is off limits and in the book.
While, there are tiny (TINY) places I might pull back and just get rid of some repetitive or unnecessary words, the bottom line is this is what I was talking about hook-wise... the hook is the writing, the imagery, this mother putting these jackfruit seeds into her son's hands. So much gorgeous work here. Keep going!
gae
Gae, I was thinking the same. Donna, a spare couple of predictable words in the opening line (skidded, danced) had me hesitating -- and then your voice and writing took over and I was more than intrigued. Your writing creates a mystical quality and I wanted to read more! Thanks for sharing.
Deletesubjectivity... i like the word skidded... danced could go either/or... for me, it was more some of the unimportant words or repetitive actions. For example this: "Retreating quickly from me, she stepped away." These seem the same action twice, and there's so much around that shines and is magnificent, it makes me wonder if it would just be enough (more powerful) to say, "She stepped away."
DeleteGae, your opening did hook me. In particular, what worked was that about halfway through I found myself wondering who the character was -- so yes, I wanted to read more. On the other hand, by the end of the excerpt, the mystery of who the narrator is was still so complete that I had no sense of gender or age - so would want something vivid about the voice, soon. I like that you started with action -- the process draws in and creates an unusual suspense. But one or sentence seemed overly self-analytical (even though we certainly do think these things): "So why don’t I trust myself?" His/her uncertainty is clear enough, so this didn't seem necessary. Likewise, the last sentence seemed unnecessary and overly conclusive -- although, that might not be true, depending on where the story goes next. In general, definitely an intriguing opening!
ReplyDeleteMy turn. I'm not sure if this piece will be clear on it's own - it comes from near the end of the opening scene, where a woman is introduced as raising a child whose father is mysteriously absent. This portion hints at the scene that separated them, and her effort to find him again despite reports disputed her memory of events. Liam is the toddler son, Carinne the mother, Michael Roonan the father. It's from an adult novel. (POV is 3rd person, although the opening line here is an internal thought.) Let's try it out:
I ran, Carinne remembered. Ran. Escaped the special agent dispatched from Dublin Centre, escaped the gardai at the rotating brass doors at the front of the hotel, slipping, ankle twisting. Everything moved. Rushing cars that might have been standing still. Pavement rushing up to her, blood on her palm as she brushed gravel from her knee. Blood at her wounded shoulder, gauze plastered in a crust to her skin. A tunnel in her shoulder, perfectly-pierced hole raged through by a bullet plucked with stainless tongs. The sound. The sound of that flattened lead bud clanking into a metal pan, tongs rattling behind it. Bullet. Real. Real as a bullet clanking into that metal pan: I was there.
She might have screamed it into the street, turning the heads of Dubliners, of footballers anticipating a match, tourists murmuring as they all did, “World Bar, St. James Gate...” Her vision blurred. She stumbled blocks she could not have retraced, voices calling to her in her stumbling rush, blood perhaps seeping through the bandage at her shoulder, crazed fear at her eyes - here and there they called out as to an injured animal, “You, there!”
Me there. Over and over they called it out. Me there. I was there.
Tiny bud of infant, even then, swimming its way north. Evidence. There, then.
Here, now. Liam stretched asleep, like a dog at her feet. Given over to it, once again: searching on her laptop into the night. Hunting for Michael Roonan.
“I'm sorry I've lost your father,” she whispers. “I'm sorry I have no answers for you.”
* * *
Elissa,
ReplyDeletethanks for you feedback (and everyone's!!) on my excerpt. Noted!
And as I said to Donna, your excerpt is an equally magnificent place to close Friday Feedback. I may even be jealous that you -- not I -- wrote it.
GOR-geous! Keep going.
FRIDAY FEEDBACK IS IN THE BOOKS, PEOPLE! See you next Friday.
xox gae
Many many thanks for your feedback. I appreciate it all! I do see the redundancy and repetitive sentences and the power of simplicity. Love going back to rework it. Excited to edit...
ReplyDeleteThe next piece written about Carrine provides suspense and the feel of fast forward although it is an action shot. I sped up my fluency in reading it and felt the panic, emotion and excitement of the character. You engaged me!
The story I am writing is about a young man from South Vietnam who becomes one of Vietnamese boat people escaping the communists regime (back in the 1970's). His father is still at war and no one has heard from him. His mother pays a fisherman to take her son to freedom. She gives him the jackfruit seeds as a symbol. She knows they may be raided by pirates at sea and gives him something that no one would steal from him. His journey includes being attacked by pirates, hunger, thirst and landing in Indonesia where he is detained in a refugee camp for over a year. Finally he arrives in the US where he does plant the jack fruit seeds and as the plant flourishes, so does he. Eventually 10 years later he is able to go back and reunite with his mother. He brings her a handful of jackfruit seeds and places them in her palm from the tree he has planted and tells her about his journey and growth.
Gae many thanks for all of the time and effort you spent on reading and providing feedback. I was so inspired by the writers and your feedback. I hope to become more engaged as the summer goes on. I am so glad I found you on Twitter. THANK YOU!
Hi! This is my first year with Teachers Write, and my very first time showing anyone my writing. This quote from Donalyn Miller really struck me this morning: “We are writers because we write—nothing more, nothing less.” I have never considered myself a writer, although sometimes I write. I am not currently working on a particular project (well, that’s not entirely true, but that’ll be for another day), but sometimes I’ll get in a zone and put down some random thoughts on paper. I have a journal for just that! Today I am going to provide one of these musings. It was not written to be anything in particular, so I thought it might be fun to revisit it and see what it has the potential to be, if anything. Therefore, it’s not from a particular place in a story, although it’s definitely not an opening. I’m interested to see what you make of it.
ReplyDeleteI am very excited to read other excerpts and try my hand at giving some critiques, but that must wait until this afternoon, as the possibility of being late for work is fast approaching. But I’ll at least start by including my excerpt so you all will have time to take a look at it. Here you go:
She put down her mug and gazed out the window. The tips of the bushes bobbed up and down lightly in the breeze and the sun was just rising above the tree line of the mountain across the street. She felt the urge to leave the building and hike to the top of that mountain, to breath in the cold air and feel the weak winter sun on her back. There she could look down on the scene below her, where people walked around bundled in their cold-weather clothes, busily going about their day running errands or going to work, while she stood frozen in time amongst the evergreen trees watching it all unfold below her. Would her mind be free and blissfully quiet up there, or would the escape bring clarity to her thoughts and provide answers to questions she had yet been able to properly formulate? The phone rang, cutting off her daydream abruptly and reeling her back into the routine of the day.
Erika, so glad you are here, but you are on LAST WEEK's closed Friday Feedback! Please cut and paste your entry (yay, you!) on this week's which is now up. Friday Feedback's close for posting by the Sunday morning that follows (or I would never get anything but this done!).
ReplyDeletexox gae