Page critique 4/15/21

Offer up your page (or query) for Nathan's critique on the blog.
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Nathan Bransford
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Joined: December 4th, 2009, 11:17 pm
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Page critique 4/15/21

Post by Nathan Bransford » April 12th, 2021, 1:47 pm

Below is the page up for critique on the blog on Thursday. 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 later 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.

It was a small house, the living room neat but sparsely furnished, holding two lounge chairs, three big screen TVs, one dead body and seventeen cats. Not even breathing through my mouth made the stench bearable.

I stared at the body; milky eyes stared back as though they could see into my soul, while cats wound around my feet and used my jeans for a scratching post. One death-blotched hand clutched a business card; I could just out my Skylark Investigations logo through the blood splotches. I knew better than to touch it, much less try to tuck it somewhere out of sight where it couldn’t bite me on the ass.

Just my luck. Dunwitty will have a field day with this, I thought as I pulled out my cell and speed-dialed the detective.

He picked up on the third ring and I made my first mistake. I took a breath so I could speak. The miasma of dead body and cat urine corkscrewed into my lungs. I spent the first minute of the call hacking up my lungs and listening to Dunwitty shout in my ear.

“Body,” I finally managed to gasp. “Number one-twelve Seventeenth Street, near Pismo.”

“One of yours, Skylark?” came the sarcastic reply.

Another breath and more coughing. My eyes watered and I stumbled toward the door, tripping over cats on my way.

“Fuck you, Dunwitty,” I growled, “just get over here. Bring your CSU friends, we’ll have a party.”

“Don’t touch anything,” Dunwitty ordered, and hung up.

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