Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Pitch Wars Early Bird Mentor Critique 18 - First 500 - YA Fantasy


To skip directly to the material and critique, scroll down to the star divider line. If you'd like to know how I break down a critique, and what I'm looking for, keep reading:

To help the authors as much as possible, I've critiqued their full first chapter, however I'm only sharing the first 500 words as these can get quite long.

When critiquing a first chapter, (especially the first 500 words), I'm always searching for these pieces of information. A great book can include all of them right up front. Sometimes one or two need to take longer. But in the first page, or two at most, I should see at least three of these:

Who is the focus of the story?
Where are they?
When is it (i.e. what era--is it today? two hundred years ago? not sure?)
What are they doing?
Why are they doing it

And in the first chapter, if not the first 500 words, I want to know what the character's initial goal is. That goal will likely change as they learn more about the situation they're falling into. However, right up front, the character always needs to want something--desperately. And the author needs to communicate to me what that is, and why they might not get it, as quickly as possible. Because that's what tells me why I should care about this story.

I'm looking for technical expertise--does the author know how to set up a scene? Do they understand backstory and when to include it (and perhaps more importantly, when not to). Is their writing tight and polished, or are there a lot of unnecessary words? Is the author falling into purple prose (over-writing in an attempt to sound good, but actually creating a sense of melodrama which will turn many readers off).

Beyond that, I'm looking at how I respond as a reader. Am I intrigued? Do I care? Do I want to keep reading?
So, with all those elements in mind, here we go...


********************

ORIGINAL MATERIAL 

Patience has never been been my virtue.
Somehow, I manage to resign myself to boredom and listen to voices in passing, flies hovering over fish rotting in crates of crushed ice, screaming hawkers desperate to make a few copper coins.
It isn’t like I have much to do besides wait. Might as well pass time. I turn my head and concentrate.
Patterns in footsteps, the direction of a scurrying mouse, the friction of clothing rubbing against skin, the sound of sweat as it beads along hairlines.
The hours drag by at snail speed, or at least it feels that way, until I hear the clip-clop of iron hitting the ground.
Soldiers on horseback are galloping beneath the market gate. Finally. They look at the stalls, ready to stop the sale of contraband goods. Their bays are small, but swift; they handle long marches and are quicker in battle than larger horses. So perfectly under command, their riders have little use for reins.
Only the best for Zhu military.
I hone in on the conversation between the two men in the lead. I can’t look at their faces as they speak, because they’re riding down the street ahead of me, but I can block out ambient noises and single out their voices, even with the din of the market.
“They are saying in town that Silent Raven is causing trouble again,” the lieutenant says.
“Put your mind at ease,” General Sheng says. “We’ve disbanded the Yellow Turbans. Repelled the Boxers. Tamed the White Lotus Bandits. It’s only one girl in a mask who flashes an indestructible blade, as they say. I can’t swear as to the sword—I’ve never seen it. But Silent Raven bleeds like every other criminal we’ve eliminated.”
“General, she terrorized our outpost in Tai’an City. Raided the camps, robbed the payroll, and freed the prisoners. A soldier who escaped claims she immobilized the men with a single syllable and a point of her finger. Somehow, the raven has learned Taoist spells. She knows the magical arts.”
“Are you an owl, lieutenant?” General Sheng says. “Unable to see beyond the end of your own crooked nose? The girl must have a place where she eats and sleeps. When she’s not attacking or spying. We’ll trail the raven back to her nest, burst in on her while she’s resting, and catch her.”
If you can. I smile beneath my mask. It’s cute when people try to sound dangerous.
Standing on the edge of a tavern, a mane of black flies out behind me. It matches the color of my robe, which flaps in the breeze like a flag of victory. The Sword of Integrity is strapped to my back, a heavy but comforting weight.

I take a flying leap from one pagoda-style roof to the next, my feet moving soundlessly on the brown-tiled eaves. No one sees me. No one thinks to look up. Not a soul in this heat. At high noon, the air is hot enough to ignite dust. The oppressive sun pours out its brilliant oranges and reds over my inky hair, which enshrouds my face and most of my body. It lies poker straight, yet it moves like tall reeds of grass with the wind blowing gently.


CRITIQUE (My words in red font):

Patience has never been been my virtue.
Somehow, I manage to resign myself to boredom and listen to voices in passing, flies hovering over fish rotting in crates of crushed ice, screaming hawkers desperate to make a few copper coins.

Your descriptiveness here is great. But we’re missing the framework to place these evocative images, so they happen in a vacuum. Start wide and then bring these into focus. It could be as easy as “wandering down the dirt street”, or “slipping between people in the marketplace”—just something to gives us the wider setting.


It isn’t like I have much to do besides wait. Might as well pass time. I turn my head and concentrate.
Patterns in footsteps, the direction of a scurrying mouse, the friction of clothing rubbing against skin, the sound of sweat as it beads along hairlines.

I gather you’re trying to create the impression of the narrative character logging extraordinary sensory details (i.e. greater hearing than we have). Which is great character and world-building. However, the transition between internal narration and listing the stimulus is jarring. You need to indicate to the reader, in a way that suits your voice, that you’re switching from thought to sensation.

The hours drag by at snail speed, or at least it feels that way, until I hear the clip-clop of iron hitting the ground.
Soldiers on horseback are galloping beneath the market gate.

Very nit-picky line-editing note, because your writing is strong enough that it’s worth going to this level: The was/are *ing construction is passive. Instead of “are galloping”, just use “gallop”. If you do this everywhere in your manuscript you not only lower your wordcount, but make your prose more active, and thus more compelling.

 Finally. They look at the stalls, ready to stop the sale of contraband goods. Their bays are small, but swift; they handle long marches and are quicker in battle than larger horses. So perfectly under command, their riders have little use for reins.
Only the best for Zhu military.

Great world-building.

I hone in on the conversation between the two men in the lead. I can’t look at their faces as they speak, because they’re riding down the street ahead of me, but I can block out ambient noises and single out their voices, even with the din of the market.

Great character-building!

“They are saying in town that Silent Raven is causing trouble again,” the lieutenant says.
“Put your mind at ease,” General Sheng says. “We’ve disbanded the Yellow Turbans. Repelled the Boxers. Tamed the White Lotus Bandits. It’s only one girl in a mask who flashes an indestructible blade, as they say.

This is the first sentence that doesn’t ring authentic to me “just one girl with an indestructible blade”, then ending with “as they say”, when clearly both have heard these stories.
First, true soldiers don’t laugh off that kind of weapon if it’s real. He can demonstrate bravado, even stupidity. But the phrasing feels off. Seems more realistic that he would poo-poo the rumors as superstition or wishful thinking—mock the people for being scared of a little girl.
Secondly, “as they say” means “we both know this, but the author wants to tell it to the reader, so I’m going to tell it to you.” Strike it. When people talk about things they both know, they don’t say things like this. They just talk about it. Use internal narration to fill in any blanks the soldiers imply because they are both clued in.


 I can’t swear as to the sword—I’ve never seen it. But Silent Raven bleeds like every other criminal we’ve eliminated.”
“General, she terrorized our outpost in Tai’an City. Raided the camps, robbed the payroll, and freed the prisoners. A soldier who escaped claims she immobilized the men with a single syllable and a point of her finger. Somehow, the raven has learned Taoist spells. She knows the magical arts.”

This is great world-building and I’m definitely intrigued. But there’s a clunkiness to this because you’re using two people who know the information to tell each other the information.
Find a way to make it more organic. “Such and such claimed she did X.” “Oh? Well, I heard this-and-that say she did Y, so which is true?” “Probably neither.” “Maybe both?” “Doesn’t matter—if I find her, she bleeds just like the rest of them.”
Trust your reader to read between the lines (no pun intended)


“Are you an owl, lieutenant?” General Sheng says. “Unable to see beyond the end of your own crooked nose? The girl must have a place where she eats and sleeps. When she’s not attacking or spying. We’ll trail the raven back to her nest, burst in on her while she’s resting, and catch her.”

Must say, it’s very convenient that she happens to be here to hear this conversation. Maybe set it up in such a way that she has learned a specific general or someone of importance has a messenger waiting here for the soldiers, to fill them in, and that’s why she’s waiting—to hear what the message is. It shows her strategic thoughtfulness—and gives them an organic reason to discuss this. Otherwise, why didn’t they have this conversation before they reached the place they know she is? Strategically, they’re a bit dim—which makes them weak adversaries, which minimizes the power implied to her.

If you can. I smile beneath my mask. It’s cute when people try to sound dangerous.

The irony is, she’s mocking them for doing exactly what she’s just done.


Standing on the edge of a tavern, a mane of black flies out behind me.

This doesn’t make sense. I had to re-read it three times. I’m still not sure if it’s real or metaphor.

It matches the color of my robe, which flaps in the breeze like a flag of victory. The Sword of Integrity is strapped to my back, a heavy but comforting weight.
I take a flying leap from one pagoda-style roof to the next, my feet moving soundlessly on the brown-tiled eaves.
No one sees me. No one thinks to look up. Not a soul in this heat. At high noon, the air is hot enough to ignite dust. The oppressive sun pours out its brilliant oranges and reds over my inky hair, which enshrouds my face and most of my body. It lies poker straight, yet it moves like tall reeds of grass with the wind blowing gently.

Excellent setting details. Watch out for getting too purple in your prose. The last two sentences (especially the “enshrouds” sentence) read a little melodramatic, rather than dramatic. Go stark over excessively descriptive. It’ll work better for the type of character you’ve built.


SUMMARY:

You’re a good writer. You understand pacing, setting, and building anticipation to a coming event. I foresee her ambushing the soldiers in some way, to gather information or resources for whatever goal she’s given herself.
My only real quibble here is that it feels like you’re trying too hard to make the voice unique. In actuality, you’ve got what sounds to me like a unique setting, and definitely a unique main character. You don’t need to give her such a staccato (yet also flowery?) way of expressing herself. In fact, I’d go so far as to say the technique you’re using is getting in the way of the reader falling into the story—and a very good story it’s already shaping up to be.
Pull back on the purple prose. Let her use full sentences when she’s describing the sensory details. Don’t put in any barriers in the way of the reader, and then we’ll get the full promise that’s here: A very intriguing protagonist in a new and different world from standard fare.

Well done. Good luck!

Monday, May 29, 2017

Pitchwars Early Bird Mentor Critique 17 - First 500 - Adult Fantasy

To skip directly to the material and critique, scroll down to the star divider line. If you'd like to know how I break down a critique, and what I'm looking for, keep reading:

To help the authors as much as possible, I've critiqued their full first chapter, however I'm only sharing the first 500 words as these can get quite long.

When critiquing a first chapter, (especially the first 500 words), I'm always searching for these pieces of information. A great book can include all of them right up front. Sometimes one or two need to take longer. But in the first page, or two at most, I should see at least three of these:

Who is the focus of the story?
Where are they?
When is it (i.e. what era--is it today? two hundred years ago? not sure?)
What are they doing?
Why are they doing it

And in the first chapter, if not the first 500 words, I want to know what the character's initial goal is. That goal will likely change as they learn more about the situation they're falling into. However, right up front, the character always needs to want something--desperately. And the author needs to communicate to me what that is, and why they might not get it, as quickly as possible. Because that's what tells me why I should care about this story.

I'm looking for technical expertise--does the author know how to set up a scene? Do they understand backstory and when to include it (and perhaps more importantly, when not to). Is their writing tight and polished, or are there a lot of unnecessary words? Is the author falling into purple prose (over-writing in an attempt to sound good, but actually creating a sense of melodrama which will turn many readers off).

Beyond that, I'm looking at how I respond as a reader. Am I intrigued? Do I care? Do I want to keep reading?
So, with all those elements in mind, here we go...


********************


ORIGINAL MATERIAL

Running late to work at the crack of dawn to find protesters already lined up outside wasn’t the best way Hazel had ever started her day. At least when the day started so bad, it couldn’t get any worse.
The shopping district was mostly deserted in the cold February morning, save the half dozen protesters assembled outside her aunt Enid’s essence distillery. Hazel didn’t know what possessed them to be there so early in the morning. If she had it her way she’d still be firmly ensconced in bed. If anything could be said about Pandora Alliance, it would be that they were dedicated to their cause.
Hazel clutched her pepper spray in one hand, her keys to the shop in the other as she approached. The alley leading to the back entrance wasn’t far, she wouldn’t have to pass through the line if they stayed where they were. This group hadn’t been violent in the three days they’d been picketing the shop, but Hazel wasn’t about to take a chance, not after the fiasco of the Tear protests the year before.
None of them looked particularly well rested. There was a sleeping bag bundled off to one side, and Hazel wondered if one of them had slept there. Even the end of February in Denver could get well below freezing at night. Their usual hostility at someone who not only accepted magic, but worked in a shop that sold it, was amplified by the rumpled look of people who had been called out of bed by Enid’s early arrival at the shop.
“There’s the traitor,” a middle-aged woman sneered. Hazel tried to ignore them. The Pandora Alliance was sometimes harder on her then they were on actual practitioners.
“Turn away from your sin, forsake the evil of your kin or you will burn in hell!” No one else was around, why did they insist on doing this show every time they saw her? Maybe they were just running through their lines, getting warmed up for a day of shortsighted bigotry.
Hazel took a deep breath, hands trembling with the approach of panic. It was too early in the day for this. She pasted her best customer service smile on and waved to the crowd. “Good morning to you too. Stay warm!”
A charm on her keys let her pass by the wards that surrounded the shop and blocked off the entrance to the slip of an alley that let her get to the back door.  The cold malice of the protesters following her, crawling like spiders on her neck. Out of sight, Hazel took a moment to lean against the rough brick wall, willing her heart to slow down. Why they couldn’t just close for a few days was beyond her. It wasn’t like they were doing any real business with a fanatical picket line marching outside.
“You’re late,” Enid said, her voice a sharp crack through the  stillness of the back room of the shop.


CRITIQUE (My words in red font)

Running late to work at the crack of dawn to find protesters already lined up outside wasn’t the best way Hazel had ever started her day. At least when the day started so bad, it couldn’t get any worse.


I’ll be honest, I feel like you missed an opportunity here. You’re telling rather than showing, so we’re still waiting for the impact when, in fact, you have a really good conflict set up here.
Try opening with us seeing her rushing along the sidewalk (or wherever), sweating and blowing hair out of her face because she’s late, the running into a wall of protestors—and give us her emotional reaction to that through sensory detail.


The shopping district was mostly deserted in the cold February morning, save the half dozen protesters assembled outside her aunt Enid’s essence distillery. Hazel didn’t know what possessed them to be there so early in the morning. If she had it her way she’d still be firmly ensconced in bed. If anything could be said about Pandora Alliance, it would be that they were dedicated to their cause.

Again, great info, but you’re working too hard to give it to use because you’re telling instead of showing. Give us the glint off the windows, or the cracked cement, or whatever actual setting we’re in. When you mention the Essence Distillery, or the Pandora Alliance you’re going to have to explain (very briefly) what they are. So get us really grounded in the reality of the place (sight, smell, sound, texture, etc) then mention these things—and have her give us a sentence in her head that tells us what they are, because they’re clearly an important part of your world-building.
Story-wise, does she truly not understand why the protestors are there? If not, then her emotional reaction needs to be confusion and concern. If she knows why they’re there, but can’t believe they’re doing it so early, then it’s exasperation or frustration—along with fear or concern for the impacts.


Hazel clutched her pepper spray in one hand, her keys to the shop in the other as she approached.

Excellent. These are the kind of tangible details we need right up front.

The alley leading to the back entrance wasn’t far, she wouldn’t have to pass through the line if they stayed where they were. This group hadn’t been violent in the three days they’d been picketing the shop, but Hazel wasn’t about to take a chance, not after the fiasco of the Tear protests the year before.

You’re once again mentioning a tthing that we don’t have a frame of reference for. You need to give a very brief outline of what the Tear protests are. I mean, really brief. A single sentence after the mention. Or, you can em dash it and explain in a few words “…not after the fiasco of the Tear protests—eight days of Pandora terror attacks on capitol buildings—the year before.” (I know that’s not what your conflict is, but I’m trying to show you the structure of how to clue the reader into these little pieces of information).


None of them looked particularly well rested. There was a sleeping bag bundled off to one side, and Hazel wondered if one of them had slept there. Even the end of February in Denver could get well below freezing at night. Their usual hostility at someone who not only accepted magic, but worked in a shop that sold it, was amplified by the rumpled look of people who had been called out of bed by Enid’s early arrival at the shop.

Ah, now we start to see what’s going on here. This information needs to be right at the front—the first time she mentions the distillery and the protestors. This is the crux of your world-building. Don’t make the reader wonder/wait for it.


“There’s the traitor,” a middle-aged woman sneered. Hazel tried to ignore them. The Pandora Alliance was sometimes harder on her then they were on actual practitioners.
Nice way to drop in that she doesn’t do magic. Well done. These kinds of brief insights are perfect for your opening pages.


“Turn away from your sin, forsake the evil of your kin or you will burn in hell!” No one else was around, why did they insist on doing this show every time they saw her? Maybe they were just running through their lines, getting warmed up for a day of shortsighted bigotry.
Nice.


Hazel took a deep breath, hands trembling with the approach of panic. It was too early in the day for this. She pasted her best customer service smile on and waved to the crowd. “Good morning to you too. Stay warm!”
That made me grin.

A charm on her keys let her pass by the wards that surrounded the shop and blocked off the entrance to the slip of an alley that let her get to the back door.  The cold malice of the protesters following her, crawling like spiders on her neck.
Great metaphor, but we still aren’t grounded in this world. So focus instead on the reality of where she is and what she’s doing—show the lock clicking open for her, the texture of the door, or the echoeing steps behind. That kind of thing. That’s what will make your reader fall into your world.


Out of sight, Hazel took a moment to lean against the rough brick wall, willing her heart to slow down.
These moments are where you have those opportunities to make the world real. Instead of leaning against a rough brick wall, have her rest on the wall and show her hair or her clothes snagging on the bricks.

Why they couldn’t just close for a few days was beyond her. It wasn’t like they were doing any real business with a fanatical picket line marching outside.
“You’re late,” Enid said, her voice a sharp crack through the  stillness of the back room of the shop.
Hazel flipped the deadbolt on the door and turned to face her aunt. Even so early in the morning, Enid was put together and lovely, but she always was. Dark brown hair pulled up into a neat bun, creamy tan cheeks smooth, canted eyes bright and catching everything. She was in her mid-forties, age giving her grace and beauty that seemed to grow every year instead of diminishing.
Lovely description!

SUMMARY: 

Here’s what’s working really well for you: You don’t use extra words to get an idea across. You know how to move action simultaneously with internal narration. And it sounds like you’ve got a really well developed world in your head. You’re showing the conflict right up front (big tick!), and your voice is clear.
The thing that’s working against you is that you’re telling more than you’re showing. Which slows the read (even if it sometimes uses less words) because it doesn’t make the reader feel like they’re a part of the story. They don’t get inside the character’s skin—instead they’re outside watching them. And that’s much harder to connect with.
If you take the exact progression and information you’ve got here (along with your writing skills), and use it to paint sensory detail, you’ll grip the reader from the very first line.
I know it can feel difficult at the beginning to try to identify when you’re showing vs. telling, but an approach that helps me is this: When you describe something, are you describing an action, or an image? An image tells you what to see or hear (“She leaned against the rough bricks.”) If you’re describing sensations in action, you’re showing (“She dropped her forehead against the cool bricks, then grimaced when her hair caught, tearing on the rough stone.”) That’s not a great example because I’m rushing, but hopefully it makes the point.

The only content I think is missing here is the goal of the protagonist, though you could argue that she wants to see the shop closed. Personally, given the conflict you've set up, I'd go for something a little bigger--does she wish she could magic the people away? Does she wish she could walk away and not have to deal with these people? Does she want to move the shop to another city where they're more open to magic? Let the reader see what she'd choose if she could.
I see a ton of potential here. I hope I’ve offered some insight that will help with your revisions.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Pitch Wars Early Bird Critique 16 - First 500 - YA High Fantasy


To see the draft query attached to this novel, go here:

To skip directly to the material and critique, scroll down to the star divider line. If you'd like to know how I break down a critique, and what I'm looking for, keep reading:

To help the authors as much as possible, I've critiqued their full first chapter, however I'm only sharing the first 500 words as these can get quite long.
When critiquing a first chapter, (especially the first 500 words), I'm always searching for these pieces of information. A great book can include all of them right up front. Sometimes one or two need to take longer. But in the first page, or two at most, I should see at least three of these:

Who is the focus of the story?
Where are they?
When is it (i.e. what era--is it today? two hundred years ago? not sure?)
What are they doing?
Why are they doing it

And in the first chapter, if not the first 500 words, I want to know what the character's initial goal is. That goal will likely change as they learn more about the situation they're falling into. However, right up front, the character always needs to want something--desperately. And the author needs to communicate to me what that is, and why they might not get it, as quickly as possible. Because that's what tells me why I should care about this story.

I'm looking for technical expertise--does the author know how to set up a scene? Do they understand backstory and when to include it (and perhaps more importantly, when not to). Is their writing tight and polished, or are there a lot of unnecessary words? Is the author falling into purple prose (over-writing in an attempt to sound good, but actually creating a sense of melodrama which will turn many readers off).

Beyond that, I'm looking at how I respond as a reader. Am I intrigued? Do I care? Do I want to keep reading?
So, with all those elements in mind, here we go...


********************

ORIGINAL MATERIAL

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry!”
“You’ll be sorry when I say you’re sorry!”
“You’re hurting me!”
“Good.”
I cried out on the creaking floor as my grandmother beat me with the handle of a broom.
Gritting my teeth I pulled thin arms tight over my long neck and side, so much so that I couldn’t breathe. As the pain of the broom wacked my boney back and legs I held myself tighter, wild curls covering my face and sticking to my wet lips. All I could hear was Alba’s breaths and my own deep winces as the broom fell. My body cramped, my mind was blank, my chest heavy, but I remained silent as she continued my punishment and lesson.
 “Always hiding things. Do you never learn girl? Shall I beat it into you every night until you understand?” I shook her head faintly, spotting the torn piece of parchment on the floor which she had found in my room, and Alba stopped. “No? Look at me.” She demanded and I did so as bruises formed, patching along my body. Alba looked disgusted with me, “You’re just like her. If I find anything more which does not belong in my home, it will be an iron rod I use next.”
“…Yes Alba.”

With stiff arms I ladled water into cups before sitting behind the worn wood table, body aching.
A tray of bread and olives was for breakfast, gathered from our small garden. I was careful to watch myself, cautious as I ate day old bread. Lately I’d been clumsier than usual, or as Alba put it, more of a nuisance. It was a name I was more familiar with then my own. It was normal in the cabin in the woods just as her my punishments were. If it was normal outside it I didn’t know. I reached for a few pitted olives placing them in my bowl. I was thankful they were green and not black so I didn’t feel as if I was eating my own bruised skin. At least my body healed fast, as some of the smaller bruises were already turning yellow.
I ate slowly despite gnawing hunger. If I ate too fast Alba wouldn’t like it. Taking hold of my water I pretended to drink as the morning air of the cabin warmed, and faint light of the sun rose across the table and into my empty face. Sneaking a peek, Alba sat with her short back straight and sunken black eyes on her bowl, as if eating by herself. And she might as well have been since she didn’t talk to me unless dealing out orders like a master to her starving servant.
My throat tightened swallowing a piece of scratchy bread.
Despoite all Alba had did for me and to me, I didn’t love her, but then why bother living with someone like her? Who was cold and cruel and hate-filled towards her own granddaughter?
She’s all I have left.



CRITIQUE (My words in red font):

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry!”
“You’ll be sorry when I say you’re sorry!”
“You’re hurting me!”
“Good.”
I cried out on the creaking floor as my grandmother beat me with the handle of a broom.

Your dialogue works well, but show, don’t’ tell. Have her cry out because the broom handle lands on her ribs, or her spine, or hear the thwack of belt leather accompanying the sting on her skin, that kind of thing.



Gritting my teeth I pulled thin arms tight over my long neck and side, so much so that I couldn’t breathe. As the pain of the broom wacked my boney back and legs I held myself tighter, wild curls covering my face and sticking to my wet lips. All I could hear was Alba’s breaths and my own deep winces as the broom fell. My body cramped, my mind was blank, my chest heavy, but I remained silent as she continued my punishment and lesson.

Except, she hasn’t been silent to remain so. If you want her silent, have her bite her lip and refuse to cry out again—something emotive like that.


“Always hiding things. Do you never learn girl? Shall I beat it into you every night until you understand?” I shook her head faintly,

“I” shook “her” head?

spotting the torn piece of parchment on the floor which she had found in my room, and Alba stopped. “No? Look at me.” She demanded and I did so as bruises formed, patching along my body. Alba looked disgusted with me, “You’re just like her. If I find anything more which does not belong in my home, it will be an iron rod I use next.”
“…Yes Alba.”

With stiff arms I ladled water into cups before sitting behind the worn wood table, body aching.

This is an odd transition. In a manuscript, if you’re making a scene break, use the “#” symbol—centered, or at the margin—to indicate a change of scene. However, I feel like it’s too early for a scene change, because we aren’t grounded in this scene yet.

Use this moment to show her pain by having her wince as she slowly pushes herself to her feet. Then have Grandmother intentionally bump into her as she stands, so she has to bite back another cry. Something to give us the mental image of her getting up—then moving towards the food. And show us the room she’s in while she’s on her way—ground us in the setting, senses, and emotions she’s feeling. Then the rest flows naturally out of that.


A tray of bread and olives was for breakfast, gathered from our small garden. I was careful to watch myself, cautious as I ate day old bread. Lately I’d been clumsier than usual, or as Alba put it, more of a nuisance. It was a name I was more familiar with then my own. It was normal in the cabin in the woods just as her my punishments were. If it was normal outside it I didn’t know. I reached for a few pitted olives placing them in my bowl. I was thankful they were green and not black so I didn’t feel as if I was eating my own bruised skin. At least my body healed fast, as some of the smaller bruises were already turning yellow.
I ate slowly despite gnawing hunger. If I ate too fast Alba wouldn’t like it. Taking hold of my water I pretended to drink as the morning air of the cabin warmed, and faint light of the sun rose across the table and into my empty face. Sneaking a peek, Alba sat with her short back straight and sunken black eyes on her bowl, as if eating by herself. And she might as well have been since she didn’t talk to me unless dealing out orders like a master to her starving servant.
My throat tightened swallowing a piece of scratchy bread.
Despoite all Alba had did for me and to me,

You have a typo in Despite, then “had did for me” is grammatically incorrect. If the latter is intentional, a device of the voice, you need to use it more often, and earlier. If it’s just a typo, correct it. It’ll drive grammar nazi agents crazy. And definitely get a proofreader. Your writing is solid, you don’t want it being dragged down and potentially rejected because an agent feels like they have to do too much of the grunt work.


I didn’t love her, but then why bother living with someone like her? Who was cold and cruel and hate-filled towards her own granddaughter?
She’s all I have left.

Very poignant. Well done.

  
SUMMARY:

You’ve got a great conflict, and a great showing of the conflict, right up front. Which is perfect. However, you need to fully deliver on that. The actual beating can end where it does, but we need to see her emotional reaction to it—as she gets up, does Grandmother leave and she flinches? Or, does she do everything she can to show she’s going to be obedient, so grandmother doesn’t have reason to launch at her again?
And while you move her from the floor, and show us her emotional response to the beating, show us the setting as well.
Because you opened the book on a physical altercation, you’ll get away with not giving the wider setting right away. But the second that altercation ends, you need to show the reader this isn’t happening in a vacuum. Give the cues of texture of the floor, items/furniture, sounds, smells, etc, to make the setting real. That way, when crazy things happen, the reader’s brain has already been fooled into thinking the world is real, so disbelief is suspended.
All-in-all, a solid start. Keep going, keep refining, definitely look for those typos/mistakes, and clear those up. Make sure every scene opens with setting and give sensory detail as you go, and this will grab people.
Good luck!