Page Critique Tuesday 5/16/17
Posted: May 14th, 2017, 10:21 pm
Want to see how your editing approach compares to mine?
Below is the page up for critique on the blog on Tuesday, May 16th. Feel free to chime in with comments, create your own redline (please note the "font colour" button above the posting box, which looks like a drop of ink), and otherwise offer feedback. When offering your feedback, please please remember to be polite and constructive. In order to leave a comment you will need to register an account in the Forums, which should be self-explanatory.
I'll be back on Tuesday with my own post on the blog and we'll literally be able to compare notes.
If you'd like to enter a page for a future Page Critique, please do so here.
Title: Prisoners of Laurasia: The Children of Thor
Genre: YA Fantasy
Lawson had found a way to hide his burns.
He scratched the crimson scars along his forearm. Whenever he looked at them, he had the urge to tear his skin off, like he was just peeling from a really bad sunburn, and underneath would be fresh and smooth. But sunburn only burned the outsides, and Balstifir was in every inch of Lawson; a dormant fire. Every warlock doctor or scientist that had ever lived had agreed on that. Whether the scars could be removed was still debatable.
Doctor Pox claimed she could wipe any scar or smear from the skin clear. But Lawson’s skin wasn’t covered in pimples or harmless blemishes – it was covered in burns, crusting over him, leaving him in a permanent state of monster. Balstifir with doctors was always promises and maybes, but he was weeks from prison, and promises would have to do.
Dr Pox’s promises were laid out on Lawson’s bed in the form of a glyphook; a slated warlock projector. Before and after images floated in the air, painting hope for Lawson in the form of various scar removals. He swiped his hand across the glyphook. Above, the images changed to a silent 3-D videogram of burns receding as an odd black sludge spread over a woman’s arms. Repulsive scars were shed, beautiful skin folding over the top.
“Pause,” said Lawson.
The videogram froze mid-air on that image – the gorgeous unburnt skin.
Hiding battle-scars is the act of a coward, said Zen.
Below is the page up for critique on the blog on Tuesday, May 16th. Feel free to chime in with comments, create your own redline (please note the "font colour" button above the posting box, which looks like a drop of ink), and otherwise offer feedback. When offering your feedback, please please remember to be polite and constructive. In order to leave a comment you will need to register an account in the Forums, which should be self-explanatory.
I'll be back on Tuesday with my own post on the blog and we'll literally be able to compare notes.
If you'd like to enter a page for a future Page Critique, please do so here.
Title: Prisoners of Laurasia: The Children of Thor
Genre: YA Fantasy
Lawson had found a way to hide his burns.
He scratched the crimson scars along his forearm. Whenever he looked at them, he had the urge to tear his skin off, like he was just peeling from a really bad sunburn, and underneath would be fresh and smooth. But sunburn only burned the outsides, and Balstifir was in every inch of Lawson; a dormant fire. Every warlock doctor or scientist that had ever lived had agreed on that. Whether the scars could be removed was still debatable.
Doctor Pox claimed she could wipe any scar or smear from the skin clear. But Lawson’s skin wasn’t covered in pimples or harmless blemishes – it was covered in burns, crusting over him, leaving him in a permanent state of monster. Balstifir with doctors was always promises and maybes, but he was weeks from prison, and promises would have to do.
Dr Pox’s promises were laid out on Lawson’s bed in the form of a glyphook; a slated warlock projector. Before and after images floated in the air, painting hope for Lawson in the form of various scar removals. He swiped his hand across the glyphook. Above, the images changed to a silent 3-D videogram of burns receding as an odd black sludge spread over a woman’s arms. Repulsive scars were shed, beautiful skin folding over the top.
“Pause,” said Lawson.
The videogram froze mid-air on that image – the gorgeous unburnt skin.
Hiding battle-scars is the act of a coward, said Zen.