Friday Feedback: Take Your Advice and . . . Think About It?

So, a friend of mine -- a writer with several traditionally-published books under his belt -- asked if I would take a look at a YA manuscript of his (his first in the genre).

The manuscript has been getting great "plot" feedback from agents and editors alike, but they are, thereafter, rejecting it -- mostly on claimed issues with the story's "voice."

As such, he specifically asked me not to worry about little problems with story or structure or dialogue, but to just see if I could figure out what is wrong (if anything) with the voice.

So, here's the thing: I'm reading, knowing his credentials far exceed mine, and I'm seeing problems everywhere in the first 30 pages -- concrete problems that have nothing to do with voice (though might amount to why voice isn't working for them). And, so, I'm questioning myself.

"Who am I, compared to this more successful writer, compared to editors and agents alike, to think I might actually "see" more concrete things wrong with this manuscript?"

Worse, when I know that writing advice is subjective.

I like what I like, and I don't like what I don't like, and as objective as I try to be, that truth is going to seep in to any critique I offer.

Even professional reviewers can't avoid this truth, or how can one explain the same book getting a stellar Kirkus review, while the School Library Journal or VOYA review is, say, less so? (*coughs*). Doesn't it mean that those readings are subjective?

So, here's the million dollar question: when seeking feedback, Who do you believe?

What advice do you take?

IMHO, there are really no definitive answers, but I do have a rule of thumb. All well-intended, constructive criticism is, of course, food for thought. Sometimes, no more than that.

But, if two or more people I admire (writing or reading-wise) take issue with something in my manuscript (or, in the case of my agent or editor, it only needs to be that one person), I deem it more than food for thought. I deem it something that needs my focus and consideration.

I may not agree with how or why they've taken issue -- or their potential suggestion, if any, for how to fix it -- but I do believe that it means as the writer, I may not have done my job communicating what I was hoping to, as well as I thought I had.

I need to go back with fresh eyes and look at those parts again.


So, for example: In my current manuscript, one of the "bits" that plays out throughout the story happens to be a favorite part of several of my BETA readers. I got repeated positive feedback about those parts. My former agent loved them too.

So, imagine my surprise when my current (and forever) agent commented that he found those parts occasionally to be a bit "twee."

Twee?!

Blech.

My first thought was to ignore him -- I mean, it's like five against one, right?!

But as I thought more about it, and held sight of my rule -- I thought, maybe I just haven't done those parts quite as well as I thought I had. Maybe my BETA readers are forgiving, and my agent is rightfully not.

So, now, on revision, I will look again with fresh eyes and an open zen-like ( ;)) mind.

And, the best I can do for my friend, is offer up what I "see," how I feel when I read, and know he will take it for whatever it's worth.

But, here's the bottom line. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. WRITING IS SUBJECTIVE. Reading is too. Critiquing is too.

For as many readers (agents, editors, reviewers) as like your book, there will always be detractors, someone who doesn't. Some readers will connect with your book, and some just won't. It's personal, but it isn't. So, hold on to that. In the end it's your story. Your voice.

Only you can decide.

So, here we go, peeps. Just you and me and Friday Feedback. You know the RULES. Here's a bit from the manuscript I'm working on now. Just a rough bit from the early middle. The main character is a 17-yr old boy, and a very good artist.

"So, then. . .” She lifts my portfolio and rests it on the table. “I didn’t open it, but I really wanted to.” She laughs, apologetically. “It’s just that I hear that you’re good.”

I shift on the couch and press against the headache that’s forming at the bridge of my nose.

“Ah, I see you’re not offering to help with my curiosity. Fair enough.” She winks to let me know she’s just playing, and slides the portfolio off to the side. There’s something real about it – her – how she’s honest, rather than therapist-like, which makes me feel badly that I’m not in the mood. She pulls her clipboard back onto her lap. “No worries, really, I’ll live. I promise. But, maybe Monday you’ll share?”  She flips the sheet over and writes a note on it. The portfolio sits there, its handle dangling over the table’s edge.

My eyes flash to the small piece of masking tape wrapped around its handle, the words Kee ha Wo scrawled in Sarah’s handwriting. My stomach twists. I’d forgotten about that piece of tape. It’s mostly brown smudge now, my grip erasing letters over time.

Kee ha Wo. It reads like some cryptic Chinese phrase. But I know what it said. I remember.

           It was a double entendre, the day of the MOMA, on the train. She had whispered it in my ear, and the next week, I found it taped there on the handle like that. She had burst out laughing when I found it, loud enough that Mrs. Tarantoli gave us a look from her desk.

Kee ha Woo. I remember every single word Sarah said.

- gae

p.s. if you missed Kate's Teachers Write! Quick Write yesterday, and you're a participant, you shouldn't have. You can find it, and chime in your letter here: http://www.katemessner.com/teachers-write-89-thursday-quick-write/

p.s.s. No sad goodbyes here from me to my Teachers Write! campers (I refuse!!). Friday Feedback isn't going anywhere just because summer may end. Come back and play any Friday, and your students are welcome too. xox

Friday Feedback Rides Again! :)

After a brief hiatus *coughs, shut up* I've decided to bring back Friday Feedback.

I'll wait. Let me know when you're done jumping up and down. :)

For those of you who never participated in Friday Feedback, I'll tell you the rules, and, then, in this first return post, I'll (sort of) break them. Hey, it's my blog. I'll do what I want to. You do what you want on YOUR blog.

Seriously, though, if you’re here, reading, and, moreso, chiming in, I’m happy and grateful, so thank you. Especially if you’re a teen or young adult, since that’s what I post and write about here -- young adult fiction.

So, what is the point of Friday Feedback? To get and give feedback (with some rules).

Sometimes, I’ll invite you to critique a piece of my writing (and offer the opportunity for you to post your own excerpt in the comments and receive critique from me or any of my writer or non-writer friends who might stop by), and sometimes, I’ll have a guest author host the spot, posting their work and giving feedback (though I'll usually chime in. :)).

Why do I love this feature? Writers often write in a vacuum.

As such, you’ll often hear us commenting that we have no idea if something we’ve written is great, or if it’s crap. I mean, you’d think we’d know, but sometimes, honestly, we just don’t. Sometimes, the chasm of doubt we stare down is just that gaping and wide.

If you don’t believe me, here’s a quote I love from an interview with one of my all-time favorite (and hugely prolific) authors, William Goldman (his novels include Marathon Man, The Color of Light, The Princess Bride, and more movie screenplays than we can count on our combined fingers including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid – don’t tell me if you’re too young to know it, it will break my heart), and 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."


Isn't that awesome?

Okay, having said that, let’s get started. Together. In the dark. Friday Feedback.

Here are the RULES:


I would like the following feedback (and will offer the same to you between Friday and Monday if you post an excerpt for me to read in the comments -- see further rules regarding that below):

• Does the piece "hook" you enough to make you want to keep reading. If yes, why? If no, why not?

• What else works for you, and why?

• What doesn’t work for you (if something doesn't) and why?

See? Simple. :)

Now, here's how you can also get some feedback: If you are working on something, and would like the same feedback, please post your excerpt after your feedback (in the same comment or a new one).

Please post between 3 -5 paragraphs, and no more. If there's more, I may only read the first 3 -5 paragraphs (5 if they're short, 3 if they're long). If the comment gets too long, feel free to reply in two separate comments. If you are a student from a particular class, please identify yourself as such. If not, let me know how you found me.

And, remember, we are all trying to be constructive here. So be honest, but be kind, and expect the same in return.

Okay?

Yay!

So, without further ado, *deep breath* (er, the deep breathing was for me…), thanks for participating!

Here we go!

Oh, and remember I told you I was going to break my own rules a little bit today? Today I'm going to post two excerpts, because I was looking over old Friday Feedbacks and saw how much the opening to Frankie Sky -- my novel out on submission now -- has changed since the last time I posted it here. I thought it might be kind of cool to see. Feel free to compare and contrast what you like or don't like from the switch from the old to the new.

Thanks for reading and commenting. Look forward to see YOUR stuff!

- gae


Frankie Sky, current opening:

          It’s not even noon in not even July, yet already the sun bakes down hot and steady making the air in front of me waffle like an oily mirage. I hate summer, and it only makes it worse that I’m here at the Lawrenceville Country Club pool on some crazy whim, and without Lisette because, since school ended, she’s never around.

I sit up and adjust my bikini top, trying to stretch it across the spots it barely covers. It’s snug only because it’s one of Lisette’s old hand-me-downs – and not for better reasons. Lisette lent it to me last spring for a school carwash, and I grabbed what I could this morning. It’s not like I have a fresh supply of bathing suits.

I yank the strings around my neck for maximum boost and re-tie them, letting my eyes dart to where Peter Pintero towers across from me like King of Summer atop his LCC lifeguard throne. His eyes catch mine and he squints funny, like he wants to know what the heck I’m doing here.

Well, it’s none of his business what I’m doing here. Besides, I’m not sure I even know.  

***


And, here's the original opening (they're way different, eh?):

          The first time I see Frankie Schyler, he's diving into the Lawrenceville Country Club pool, which is only the first of many coincidences that will make me question everything I know about life, death, and the nature of our existence during the short eight weeks of summer.

          It’s not so much coincidence as stupidity that Frankie marches to the edge of the coping, arms raised above his mop of blond curls, and purposefully plunges himself headfirst into the water, but rather the coincidence is that I am here, too, staring at the very same water, wondering if I might walk over and slip myself in, then sink to the bottom and disappear.

          Or, maybe that’s not a coincidence either, since I’ve spent much of the past four years thinking about ways to disappear.

***

Friday Feedback, Frankie Sky

So, I decided to toss a brief Friday Feedback together because I'm suddenly really needing some feedback.

Frankie Sky is one of two YA manuscripts I've been working on during the past 18 months, and I've just started a big revision and am wondering about the opening hook. I've been spinning my wheels a bit on the very opening and would love your honest feedback.

Are you interested? Is there a hook? What do you like? What do you not like?

And, if you want to post an excerpt for the same feedback, please do!

Chapter One

The first time I see Frankie Schyler, he's diving into the Lawrenceville Country Club pool, which is only the first of many coincidences that will make me question everything I know about life, death, and the nature of our existence during the short eight weeks of summer.

It’s not so much coincidence as stupidity that Frankie marches to the edge of the coping, arms raised above his mop of blond curls, and purposefully plunges himself headfirst into the water, but rather the coincidence is that I am here, too, staring at the very same water, wondering if I might walk over and slip myself in, then sink to the bottom and disappear.

Or, maybe that’s not a coincidence either, since I’ve spent much of the past four years thinking about ways to disappear.

For example, there was the Year of Non-Breathing the year I turned twelve, which was one year after I let my brother Simon die. I’d read a story about a Buddhist monk who had meditated himself right into his own death. The article described how, knowing his body’s physical demise was near, he sat by a tree and made his breath so slow and barely, until he simply ceased to exist. I wanted that, too. I wanted to cease to exist.

For months I practiced endlessly. Every day after school, I would sit in front of the beautiful, old oak tree in our backyard, close my eyes, and make my inhales and exhales slower and more shallow until I couldn’t feel my chest move or the air go in or out. But when I’d finally open my eyes, I’d still be there alive, our house in front of me, everything intact, except Simon.


- gae

OyMG, it's Friday AGAIN?!?!

Hey, Peepos,

It's that time again, Friday Feedback time, but I'm not here because I'm here:

At the NYC Teen Author Festival (NO, not as a speaker (boo) just as a fan (yay!)). AM excited though because I get to meet some writer peeps I've known virtually for some time, but have never met in person, like fellow CLASS OF 2K11'er Alissa Grosso, author of Popular. Yay!). Anyway, I'm not here in person, but I'm here in spirit, or, um, shoe:

 

WHY in shoe, you ask? (yes you did, I heard you think it all the way from here. Also, you thought, those are some kickass Frye riding boots you have there, and they match those beach rocks nicely. Why, yes, thank you, they are and they do).

Anyway. Why in shoe? Because my super awesome guest Feedbacker today is a bit of a shoe girl herself.

Here, I'll show you. This is her:

                                                                      

 And, this is her:

And this is her:

Yep. She likes her feet shots.

But, don't be fooled, the rest of her is gorgeous and adorable too:

Amy Fellner Dominy of the Beautiful Hair*
*yes, that is her real name.

See? I kid you notsies. Yeah, I wrote notsies, what of it ? (you try writing four gazillion blog posts in a few weeks...)

Anyway, THAT, is Amy Fellner Dominy, one of my fellow Class of 2K11'ers and all around greatest persons in the world. And she's here for Friday Feedback today. But before we put her in the hotseat (*shoves more newspaper and kindling under to keep it toasty warm*), let me quick tell you about Amy's debut YA novel: OyMG, due out the same day as mine, May 10!

That is Ellie. I adore her.

Ellie Taylor loves nothing better than a good argument. So when she gets accepted to the Christian Society Speech and Performing Arts summer camp, she's sure that if she wins the final tournament, it'll be her ticket to a scholarship to the best speech school in the country. Unfortunately, the competition at CSSPA is hot-literally. His name is Devon and, whether she likes it or not, being near him makes her sizzle. Luckily she's confident enough to take on the challenge-until she begins to suspect that the private scholarship's benefactor has negative feelings toward Jews. Will hiding her true identity and heritage be worth a shot at her dream?


FYI, this is one of the few Class of 2K11 books I've already read and let me just tell you it a beautiful little gem. You should order it.

But enough gushing about Amy, let's put her in the hot seat.

Below is the opening to her NEXT book (yep, deal is made!) Audition and Subtraction due out September 2012, but she's got more revisions to do. She's been working on a new opening and really wants your feedback on what works and what doesn't. In fact, those are the rules today: tell her what works and what doesn't. Period. Then, if you want the same feedback, post your own little excerpt (and tell us what it is!) at the end of your comment or in a new one. Not more than three paragraphs, remember! Also, FYI, I won't be around today and neither will Amy, so the feedback will trickle in Saturday or Sunday. But I promise we won't forget you.

Chapter 1

Death by Bikini.

When I died of embarrassment today that was going on my tombstone.

“Tatum?” Mom called from the bottom of the stairs. “You up?”

“Yeah,” I called back. I was up. I’d even made it as far as my swimsuit drawer. Now, I just wanted to crawl back in bed. I rubbed a hand over my face and felt a frown line between my eyes. Was I face-scrunching in my sleep? Great. One more thing to worry about—wrinkles at the age of fourteen.

I held up the red flowered bikini top, so faded it was practically see-through in the center of one triangle. No way I could wear this to the band car wash. Not without getting arrested for indecent exposure.

“You better get moving,” Mom called again. “Lori will be here in twenty minutes.”

I groaned and dug deeper into the drawer. Normally, the car wash would be a good thing—even if it did mean getting up early on a Saturday. But not only was I bathing-suit-impaired, he was going to be there. Michael Malone. None of us had met him yet, but I already hated him.
---

- gae

Friday Feedback is Such a Soap Opera. . .

or, you know, if you're author Bettina Restrepo, a telenovela.

(which just means soap opera in Spanish).

And she's here today with just that: a sneak peek of her work in progress, Telenovela.

But first, a brief word from our sponsor:

Here I am, upside down,
after an up and down week.

Er.

That would be me.

Word.

Ok, fine, more words: in honor of the countdown to the release of her debut YA Illegal (Katherine Tegen Books March 8, 2011), Bettina is hosting a giveaway on her website. Further instructions to enter and win a signed copy of Illegal at the bottom of this post!


Oh, and fyi, this is Bettina 

ask her if she really types
her books on this thing.

and this is Nora's story, Illegal:




About Illegal (from Amazon):

A promise.
QuinceaÑera.
A promise that we would be together on my fifteenth birthday . . .

Instead, Nora is on a desperate journey far away from home. When her father leaves their beloved Mexico in search of work, Nora stays behind. She fights to make sense of her loss while living in poverty—waiting for her father's return and a better day. When the letters and money stop coming, Nora decides that she and her mother must look for him in Texas. After a frightening experience crossing the border, the two are all alone in a strange place. Now, Nora must find the strength to survive while aching for small comforts: friends, a new school, and her precious quinceaÑera.

Bettina Restrepo's gripping, deeply hopeful debut novel captures the challenges of one girl's unique yet universal immigrant experience.

Doesnt that sound beautiful and intense? But of course Bettina's not here for that today. She's here to put her new work up for some feedback, and to offer some in return if you'd like. You know the rules:

1. If it's the first few paragraphs of a novel – today it IS – tell me if it "hooks" you enough to make you want to keep reading, or not. If yes, why? If no, why not?

2. What works for you, draws you into the piece, and why?

3. What doesn’t work for you (if something doesn't) and why?

If you want the same feedback, please post your brief excerpt at the end of your comment (and tell us what it is -- e.g. opening to a novel, short story, poem, etc...). Please post no more than 3 paragraphs. If there's more, we may not read it. If you are a student from a particular class, please identify yourself as such because we like to know.

Telenovela

Bogota, Colombia


“I wish this was all different,” I said to myself.

I stuck my face against the pane of glass and stared down 7th street toward the tall building with shiny glass. Buses screeched to a stop as bicyclists darted in and out of traffic, risking life and limb.

At 5 o’clock, the phone rang, as usual. “Mercedes how are you?” asked my mother in her automatic, check on your daughter to see if she if she’s doing her homework, kind of way.

I watched the taxis stampede like buffalos around the corner, jockeying for position at the next light. “I’m fine,” I said, pushing my math book aside and not really feeling fine at all.

Trucks pushed themselves into the small parking lot at Olympicia, trying to get their grocery store deliveries off quickly before Bogota rush hour brought everything to a complete halt.

Mother sounded like she was typing at the computer. “I’m working late this evening.”

“Again? Is it work or him?” I said, trying not to roll my eyes.

I heard her huff into the phone. “Valentino called me. He’s showing the big apartment overlooking the park. If he sells that apartment it would mean a huge commission for all of us. I need to put down the deposit for you at school next year.”

I looked around our fancy apartment. Beautiful antiques, a stunning view of Carrera 7 and the lovely view of the distant mountains. None of it reflected the zero balance at the bank. As far as I knew, we were mostly broke.

“Maybe you could ask Andreś to pay my tuition? That’s his job,” I said sullenly.

She paused. I could tell my comments made her angry. “You are my job. If he wants to give a little gift, fine, but I’m not asking him for anything.”

Andreś was the constant ‘he’ in our apartment. He was my father. He was married to someone else. He was who my mother loved. As far as I was concerned, he was just a sperm donor.

Then, I heard a stapler. “How was school today?” she asked. Again, I could hear things shifting on her desk. The subject of ‘he’ closed.

“Good,” I said, trying to change up my adjectives. My life existed around poised white lies. It’s not like I could explain how my loneliness grew when she was busy trying to get the attention of a man who didn’t love either one of us.

I didn’t have friends either, unless you consider Maruja, our maid. I longed for someone my own age who wouldn’t consider me poisonous. “I’ll tell Maruja to save dinner tonight for you.”

I exhaled and said the words she wanted to hear. “Really, it’s okay. Everything is fine.”

My mother chirped, “I promise not to be so late. Ciou!”

What if one day I wouldn’t say it? How long would she wait?

Maruja, stuck her head into the room. “Let me guess, your mother and uncle are running late.”

I nodded. I bet mother would sit in her office all night waiting for my father to call.
----

(How to enter to win a signed copy of Illegal: Because Illegal deals with the issue of illegal immigrants, Bettina is interested in knowing whether this is an issue where you live: Does your area of the country have issues with illegal immigrants? Answer in your comment, along with your name and city and state to be elligible to win one of five signed copies of Illegal, winner to be announced on Bettina's website on or about April 1, 2011. Please visit her website for more details. And good luck!).

By Popular Demand, another Friday Feedback...



Read my sign.
Do not question the sign.

This is me. I am popular.

(If you say it, is it so?)

(If you aren't, does it matter?)

What does it mean to be popular?

Today's super guest star may or may not know. She is Alissa Grosso, author of Popular, Flux, May 8, 2011.

THIS is Alissa. The signs were her idea:

A sign doesn't lie.

See? She is also popular.

And this is her book.

Here's what her website has to say about Popular: Meet the clique that rules Fidelity High: Olivia, Zelda, Nordica, and Shelly, each one handpicked by uber-popular Hamilton Best. You know you’re “in” when you make the guest list for one of Hamilton’s parties. And in the thralls of senior year, everyone wants to get noticed by Hamilton. But Hamilton’s elite entourage is coming apart at the seams. . . . Lies and secrets are ripping away the careful ties that have kept them together for years. And Hamilton has the biggest secret of all, one that only her boyfriend Alex knows. If the truth got out, it would shock everyone and destroy Hamilton’s fragile world— she’ll do anything to protect it and keep her clique together.

But of course, that's not why Alissa is here today.

Today, she is here in the hot seat.

Er. Wait, sorry. Not that hot.

*blows out Alissa's chair.*

Alissa is giving us a sneak peek at the opening to her upper YA WIP bearing the working title Fan Club Presidents. You guys know the rules (if you don't and want more detail, go here):


1. If it's the first few paragraphs of a novel – today it IS – tell me if it "hooks" you enough to make you want to keep reading, or not. If yes, why? If no, why not?

2. What works for you, draws you into the piece, and why?

3. What doesn’t work for you (if something doesn't) and why?

If you’d like the same feedback, please post your brief excerpt at the end of your comment (and tell me what it is -- e.g. opening to a novel, short story, poem, etc...). Please post no more than 3 paragraphs, 5 if they're short. If there's more, I may not read it. If the comment gets too long, feel free to reply in two separate comments. If you are a student from a particular class, please identify yourself as such (and take a bow). If not, take a bow anyway. And be brave. I blew out the chair. :)

Fan Club Presidents

     I wanted to begin this story like a Dicaprio song. The perfect mix of guitar and drum beat would grab hold of you and pull you in. Then the first verse would take your breath away, and like that you would be hooked. I know all the words to every song that Dicaprio ever recorded. Yes, I was one of those obsessed girls that knows things like J.J.'s favorite flavor Pop Tarts (strawberry milkshake) or that The Urge lost the tip of his right ring finger in an eighth grade shop class accident. I used to play my favorite songs again and again, escaping into the music. I wanted my life to be like a Dicaprio song and knew that if it was, I would never be unhappy again. Life is way more complicated than a three and a half minute song, and that's
probably for the best.

     In the autumn that followed my high school graduation, I found myself living in that limbo world between childhood and the rest of my life smack dab in the suburban hell that was Valerie, New Jersey. A series
of events, but mostly my own apathy, had kept me from enrolling in college. So, now as a newly minted nineteen year old living in the house she had always lived in with the family she had always lived
with, I was playing at being a grown up.

***

Friday Feedback

How is it Friday again? Well it is, which means it is time for --dumdedadum! -- Friday Feedback.

:)

You know the RULES, right?

Ok, fine, just in case, here they are again. There are only 3:


(If you want more details, read this blog post here: http://ghpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/friday-feedback.html otherwise, just follow along.

I would like the following feedback (and will offer the same to you if you post an excerpt for me to read in the comments):

#Uno (that's 1 in Spanish): If it is the first few paragraphs of a novel – today it is NOT, so skip to dos (Spanish again, for 2) -- tell me if it "hooks" you enough to make you want to keep reading, or not. If yes, why? If no, why not?

#2 (well, I already gave away the Spanish): What works for you, draws you into the piece and why? (this is called the flattery part ;))

and,

#Trois (yep, switched to French. It's late and I'm punchy): What doesn’t work for you and why? (ouch, this is called the constructive, sting-y part).

When you are done giving feedback, if you want some of the same multi-lingual feedback from me (or my readers!?) please post your brief excerpt at the end of your comment (and tell me what it is -- e.g. opening to a novel, short story, poem, etc...). Please post no more than 3 -5 paragraphs, 5 if they're short, 3 if they are long. If there's more, I will only read the first 3 -5. If the comment gets too long, feel free to reply in two separate comments. If you are a student from a particular class, please identify yourself as such. If not, let me know how you found me.

Today, I am posting another piece from my young adult work in progress In Sight of Stars narrated by a 17-yr old boy who has a nervous breakdown after the recent death of his father. This piece is from p. 97 of about 155. Still very rough. But it's okay, have at it.
---

     On Thursday, we arrange for my mother to come in. Dr. Alvarez thinks I need to confront her, tell her what I know and how I feel about it. All of it. Even if it means she sees how angry I am. Even if it means that I end up hating her. Or she ends up hating me. “You can’t keep walking around with it, Klee, keeping it all bottled inside.”

     I don’t feel great. Sick to my stomach. My jaw is clenched and my head hurts. I’m glad Dr. A. will be there.

     When I reach her office, Dr. A. is already in there, sitting with the Van Gogh book open on her lap. She turns and looks up at me, then taps the page with her finger. Beneath it, a cheerful, lavender sky swirls above a golden field. Dark green fir trees reach to the sky.

     “Wheat Field with Cypresses,” I say, sitting, “1889.”

     “I love this one,” she says, placing it down on the table between us. “It’s very airy and hopeful. You can smell the trees and feel the wheat blowing.” I study it with her. “The thing I didn’t realize,” she continues, “is how many different styles he had. You think of Van Gogh and you think of his sunflowers or Starry Night, and even those two are quite different. But, now I see that some of his paintings had a strong Japanese influence, magnificent cherry blossoms and peach trees, and incredible color. Yet others are dark and brooding, like his illustrations, or the Potato Eaters, which I’d never heard of but is obviously very famous.”

     I nod.

     “What fascinates me is how we presume to know so much when we so often know so little. I’m glad you made me look at his work. It seems very worth knowing.”

     “My Dad loved him,” I say. “As long as I can remember, he would always talk to me about Van Gogh. And not just Van Gogh, all the masters. But especially Van Gogh.”

     “Well, I’m glad he did. And I’m glad you held onto it. And that you’ve passed it on to me.” She slides the book off to the side a little but leaves it open to that page. I’m grateful for that. I understand that she leaves it there intentionally.

     There’s a knock on the door. My mother. Her eyes go to me. “People have all different sides,” she reminds me.

***

Friday Feedback



Sometimes I just need to be upside down.

 Okay, you (may or may not) know the RULES.


Here they are again.

There are only 3: (If you want more details, read this blog post here: http://ghpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/friday-feedback.html) otherwise, just follow along.


I would like the following feedback (and will offer the same to you if you post an excerpt for me to read in the comments):


1. If it is the first few paragraphs of a novel – today it is NOT, so skip to #2. – tell me if it "hooks" you enough to make you want to keep reading, or not. If yes, why? If no, why not?


2. What works for you, draws you into the piece (if it does) and why?


3. What doesn’t work for you (if something doesn't) and why?

If you would like the same feedback, please post your brief excerpt at the end of your comment (and tell me what it is -- e.g. opening to a novel, short story, poem, etc...). Please post no more than 3 -5 paragraphs, 5 if they're short, 3 if they are long. If there's more, I will only read the first 3 -5. If the comment gets too long, feel free to reply in two separate comments. If you are a student from a particular class, please identify yourself as such. If not, let me know how you found me.

Today, I am posting a piece from my young adult novel, Frankie Sky (ages 12+), about a 14-yr old girl who has been living in the shadow of her dead younger brother for years, until she meets a little boy she thinks may be her brother reincarnated. Hope you enjoy.

My eyes go to her living room window. The blinds are open, the room empty and still.

I squint my eyes and let my vision blur, and imagine Mrs. Merrill there in the window in her short black robe, the man who looks like my father embracing her, their lips locked, their hands frantically moving over each other's body, the action cut into tantalizing slices by the slatted blinds. I take a deep breath and let my mind wander further, to Mrs. Merrill running her hands through his thick hair as he – unable to help himself from her any longer – undoes the belt to her robe and pulls her into him, and they disappear down beneath the window sill.

I close my eyes and lie back on the cold cement stoop, and replace Mrs. Merrill with me, and the unknown man with Bradley Stephenson. How badly I want to feel someone wrap their arms around me and breathe me in (Bradley Stephenson, God let it be Bradley Stephenson!) as his lips cover mine and his hands roam over me and we slip down and disappear from view.

I think about my parents. It’s been so many years since I’ve seen them kiss or hug or do anything romantic like people in love are supposed to do. Not since the day that Simon died. I wonder if they are even in love anymore. I’m guessing, not. Maybe they love each other, but they’re not in love. Isn’t that what people always say?

-gae