Aimee L. Salter: Pitch Wars Early Bird Mentor Critique 8 - First 500

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...

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ORIGINAL MATERIAL:

Chapter One

It's Friday night, I'm thinking about my destiny and watching a beautiful boy play guitar.

The coffee shop is nearly empty. Half a mile from school, it's usually filled with kids, but they clear out on a Friday and on Open Mic night? You might as well let a skunk loose in the locker room, that's how empty it gets. Which is fine with me, the emptier the better. I can almost pretend it's just him and me.

The boy's name is Gareth Davies, and his grade in speech class is three points ahead of mine, but I'm going to catch up. I'll practice, practice, practice, until my knees don't shake and my voice doesn't waver when I spit out those facts and figures I've worked so hard to research, and I'm going to beat him in our final debate. He's going to be so impressed with how soundly I've defeated him, he's going to ask me to every dance we have left in high school, and we're sophomores, so it's kind of a lot. And then--

I don't know what happens then. I don't know if any of that is going to happen. This is a daydream, nothing more.

Gareth strums and he sings, and his voice is lovely, but I'm not following his words. I like the tilt of his head as he plays, and I think about how a sculptor would capture the tousle of his sandy hair, his jawline, that little dent in his nose. I am tempted to sketch him myself, but I have no artistic talent. I'm good at school and I'm great at words, that's it.

I have no other talent at all.

"Earth to Claire, come in, Claire." Fingers snap in front of my face. "You gotta focus, babe, you're on soon. There are like eight people waiting to hear you read poetry, and six of them are actually awake."

My best friend Danica peers at me, her face hovering much too close. I shrink back, and tell myself it's her gold eyeshadow that alarmed me so. It's a look she developed for her YouTube channel, and it's awesome against her dark skin. Dani always looks awesome, always commands attention, although usually not so literally as this.

"Eight people?" I repeat, wondering if she's including Gareth in that number. Will he stick around to hear my poem?

"Two more than last time." She takes a breath. "And you know how you could have got two more--"

"No." I don't like where this is going. "I don't want them here."

"Come on, Claire Bear. Your aunts have never seen my Lady Macbeth." She straightens the wire circlet that crowns her short dark curls. "Even they can use a little culture."

My aunts get plenty of culture. "They can watch the play with everyone else. They're planning to. Aunt Hope is especially looking forward to it, she says."

Danica beams under the praise, secondhand though it is. "Still, if they were here--"

"Dani, stop." I push up my glasses, bite down on my lips a moment. "I need this to be just a Claire thing, okay?" There are precious few of those already, and they'll only decrease in number as I age. "My aunts are up in my business enough as it is. They're all but inside my head."

Danica's eyes capture mine. "But they aren't. Inside your head."

I shift on my chair, tug absently on the end of my braid. "No, but boundaries are important." And now I sound like Aunt Hope, that's one of her catch phrases. Which I appreciate a lot, but... "I don't know how they would feel about my poetry. There's no future in it."

"How do you know?"

I don't. "Poems pay diddly squat."

"Okay, not poetry, then. But you win the essay contest every single year. And I have read that story you're doing about your quirky family. Funniest thing I've read in years."

CRITIQUE (My words in red font)

Chapter One

It's Friday night, I'm thinking about my destiny and watching a beautiful boy play guitar.

Good opening. I know it's going to sound like a tiny change, but it would be more powerful if you cut "my".

Good framework. However I think you'd go even further by cutting the reference to school and instead SHOW the empty cafe (make it tangible to us with actual setting details, then just state that, half a mile from school, it's packed on weekdays, but she loves the emptiness of open mic night.) This is the moment to put us in her skin with sight, sound, smell, and/ or sensation so that the place FEELS real to us and we fall right into the story because of it.

Adorable. Great indications of voice. Also makes me cringe (tension is a good thing), so we'll done!

I don't know what happens then. I don't know if any of that is going to happen. This is a daydream, nothing more.

I have no other talent at all.

Cut "At all" for maximum punch.

My best friend Danica peers at me, her face hovering much too close. I shrink back, and tell myself it's her gold eyeshadow that alarmed me so.

Is she from the south or somewhere with their own patois? If so, make that clear up front. If not, using "alarmed" and ending with "so" feels old fashioned/too adult.

It's a look she developed for her YouTube channel, and it's awesome against her dark skin. Dani always looks awesome, always commands attention, although usually not so literally as this.

"Eight people?" I repeat, wondering if she's including Gareth in that number. Will he stick around to hear my poem?

"Two more than last time." She takes a breath. "And you know how you could have got two more--"

"No." I don't like where this is going. "I don't want them here."

"Come on, Claire Bear. Your aunts have never seen my Lady Macbeth." She straightens the wire circlet that crowns her short dark curls. "Even they can use a little culture."

My aunts get plenty of culture. "They can watch the play with everyone else. They're planning to. Aunt Hope is especially looking forward to it, she says."

Danica beams under the praise, secondhand though it is. "Still, if they were here--"

Again, she doesn't sound 15-16ish. "Precious few" sounds very adult. I'll stop hammering this, but will note it if it happens again. I'm raising it because it's a common issue with adults writing teen voices. If it's part of a colloquialism, you need to introduce that up front so it isn't distracting.

"My aunts are up in my business enough as it is. They're all but inside my head."

Danica's eyes capture mine. "But they aren't. Inside your head."

"How do you know?"

I don't. "Poems pay diddly squat."

The point that she wants the aunt's away from her poetry goes a little too long. The issue of them not seeing it as a viable option for income in future is valid. Keep that. But I'd stop the back and forth on it after my last critique not and jump right to "I don't know how they'd feel...."

SUMMARY:

Overall you’ve got a really strong opening here. There’s some place for revision, but they’re fine-tuning. You’ve introduced the right elements and characters, and there’s promise at the end of drama happening now that makes the reader want to turn the page and learn what’s going to happen.

My only complaint is that I want to understand a little more about the premonitions and her experience in her family that are explained a little further into the chapter. That’s your gem. If possible, introduced that element in this first scene—just a hint. Then as the chapter progresses, have her give one or two moments of fleshing out what happens to her aunts, or introducing their gift as something she accepts, but doesn’t possess—and also give us a hint about how she feels about their gift. Is she worried people will find out and be skeptical? Does she trust it? Or does she wonder if it’s just mind games?

Give us a framework—just the bare outline—so that when it happens to her, we feel like we’re being launched into that world.

It bears repeating: This is finessing that’s required, not a rewrite. You’ve done a great job of opening your book, so don’t overhaul. Just add hints and tastes, flavorings of what’s to come.

And for what it’s worth, I think Gareth is hot.