Monday, June 5, 2017

FINAL Pitch Wars Mentor Critique 22 - 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:

Not even the summer rain in New England was warm. I was soaked to the bone, chilled through completely. As the reality of the choices before me weighed down on me, a jolt of panic hit me, shivering through my every cell.

It had been over a month since my mother or better yet, the incubator kicked me out in a drunken rant. I could continue going from couch to couch, or I could head to Boston, where Ms. Mullers, a teacher I’d known my whole life, promised I could receive the help I needed. The terror had not quite settled in yet, sitting instead on the precipice, where it been for the last week. I pulled out my phone and leaned over it, desperately trying not to get it wet. It was already falling apart.
It was 10:45 p.m. and Tracy, my best friend since the third grade, still hadn’t shown. If she didn’t appear in the next few minutes, I was getting on the Peter Pan bus.

The bus station was old; it had not been remodeled since the 1950’s. Large, rusty holes gaped in the awnings hanging from the back of the building over the front of the buses. The rain poured through them, giving no cover from the weather. A single streetlight on the side of the bus station blinded me, so I shielded my eyes searching for any signs of Tracy. All the windows in the surrounding buildings were blacked out.  

“Izzy,” Tracy called as she stepped out of the passenger side of her brother Eric’s car. She hurried towards me, slashing through the rain puddles.

“Really Trace? You had to involve him?” I huffed under my breath with what I hoped looked like a smile.

“If that smart ass grin has anything to do with me being late, blame Eric,” she said when she reached me.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“Izzy, I wasn’t missing good-bye. You’re my best friend.” Tracy took a white envelope folded in half out of her back pocket. “This is from Mom and Dad. They don‘t like this, but they want to make sure you’re going to be okay, plus they paid off your phone for the year.”

“Trace,” I tried to interrupt her, but it was no use; it never was.

“This is from me. It’s no big deal, but it’s something you can use,” she said as she handed me a small wrapped package. Tracy twisted her neck toward Eric “Um…” She sucked her lips in with a gulp of air. “Eric wants to talk to you… Alone.” Tracy’s face scrunched up.                          

She knew how I felt about Eric and all that went with him. Did I even want to talk to him? Yes!

“Okay.”

Tracy’s arms wrapped around me and I wasn’t sure I was going to let her go. But I had no other choice. My other option wasn’t a choice; it was hell. I had to move on and Tracy knew it. She knew if I didn’t get out, I’d be dead in a matter of time.


CRITIQUE (My words in red font)


Not even the summer rain in New England was warm. I was soaked to the bone, chilled through completely. As the reality of the choices before me weighed down on me, a jolt of panic hit me, shivering through my every cell.

In concept and content, this is a solid opening. However, it’s over-written. Trust your reader. Your words are coming across as over-dramatic, rather than simply dramatic. Stark will work. Don’t push yourself. Consider what words you’d use if you were thinking to yourself about how cold you are. I doubt “my every cell” would be on the list. And statements like “the reality of my choices” have the weight by themselves. You don’t have to add “weighed me down” to get the idea across. In fact, the sentence is more powerful without them.


It had been over a month since my mother or better yet, the incubator kicked me out in a drunken rant. I could continue going from couch to couch, or I could head to Boston, where Ms. Mullers, a teacher I’d known my whole life, promised I could receive the help I needed. The terror had not quite settled in yet, sitting instead on the precipice, where it been for the last week. I pulled out my phone and leaned over it, desperately trying not to get it wet. It was already falling apart.
It was 10:45 p.m. and Tracy, my best friend since the third grade, still hadn’t shown. If she didn’t appear in the next few minutes, I was getting on the Peter Pan bus.

This is good! Your voice shows without melodrama, and the choices/stakes are here. Well done.




The bus station was old; it had not been remodeled since the 1950’s. Large, rusty holes gaped in the awnings hanging from the back of the building over the front of the buses. The rain poured through them, giving no cover from the weather. A single streetlight on the side of the bus station blinded me, so I shielded my eyes searching for any signs of Tracy. All the windows in the surrounding buildings were blacked out.  

This is a really solid setting description. I’d move it right to the front because it grounds us, then move into the cold/choices paragraph (pared back). I think you’ll be surprised how much more compelling it is to a fresh reader who doesn’t know your story, because it makes them feel like they know where they are immediately, which helps their brain fall into the story more quickly.


“Izzy,” Tracy called as she stepped out of the passenger side of her brother Eric’s car. She hurried towards me, slashing through the rain puddles.

“Really Trace? You had to involve him?” I huffed under my breath with what I hoped looked like a smile.

A teenager would more likely use “bring” than “involve”. Be really careful with your word usage in YA if you want your characters to feel authentic to the reader.



“If that smart ass grin has anything to do with me being late, blame Eric,” she said when she reached me.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“Izzy, I wasn’t missing good-bye. You’re my best friend.” Tracy took a white envelope folded in half out of her back pocket. “This is from Mom and Dad. They don‘t like this, but they want to make sure you’re going to be okay, plus they paid off your phone for the year.”

“Trace,” I tried to interrupt her, but it was no use; it never was.

“This is from me. It’s no big deal, but it’s something you can use,” she said as she handed me a small wrapped package.

Aren’t they standing in the rain? Make this all really grounded by showing them squinting against raindrops, her pruned fingers as she reaches for the present, etc.


Tracy twisted her neck toward Eric

Consider what a twisted neck looks like, and how different that is to turning her head. Don’t try to get clever with body language. Just tell it like it is so the words aren’t noticeable.


“Um…” She sucked her lips in with a gulp of air. “Eric wants to talk to you… Alone.” Tracy’s face scrunched up.                          

She knew how I felt about Eric and all that went with him. Did I even want to talk to him? Yes!

“Okay.”

Ooooooo, great romantic intrigue.


Tracy’s arms wrapped around me

You missed an opportunity to ground the reader here—if her clothes are wet and she’s cold, she’s going to notice her clothes plastering against her, maybe feel nervous about her friend getting wet, but also welcome the warmth.

and I wasn’t sure I was going to let her go. But I had no other choice. My other option wasn’t a choice; it was hell. I had to move on and Tracy knew it. She knew if I didn’t get out, I’d be dead in a matter of time.

“In a matter of time” sucks the power out of the statement because it makes the ending vague and possibly avoidable. Stop the sentence at “dead” for maximum impact.



SUMMARY:

Your opening paragraph does your writing an injustice. You’ve got solid writing here and, though you’re missing some chances to make the most of maximizing the power of your opening, all the right elements, conflict, stakes, and character intent that are so much harder to teach than line editing your own writing.

Be encouraged: You don’t need to change any of these pages, just cut back on melodrama, and use more setting detail to make it all feel real to the reader.

A couple chapters in, once the reader’s fallen into the story and feels like they’re coming to know your protagonist’s voice, there’s less need for consistent setting/sensory detail. But right at the beginning, when the reader is still aware of reading, you need really succinct, tangible details to bring the reader’s brain into that sweet spot where the world and people feel real and they forget they’re reading and are just seeing it all play across their mind.

It won’t take much work to make these opening pages pop and serve that purpose for you, so don’t go overboard in your revisions! If you can offer more sensory detail, and pare back on purple-prose, you’ll have very strong opening pages. And because I’ve read ahead I know it just keeps getting better from here.

Well done!


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