Page critique 6/17/21

Offer up your page (or query) for Nathan's critique on the blog.
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Nathan Bransford
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Page critique 6/17/21

Post by Nathan Bransford » June 14th, 2021, 1:54 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.

Prudence felt bad for wishing her father was dead when the gunshot popped like a firecracker from the room above. For a second, nothing moved in the Callison House study but the tiny flames in the fireplace that needed stoking. Hamilton Hissen’s hand froze on the knot of the gold Hermes tie with a repeating pattern of raised H’s he had been adjusting as he stood behind the old Callison desk, no longer reading from the paper quivering in his other hand.

Her twin brother, Jack, on the couch to her left, closed his eyes, took a calming breath and released the death grip he had on his legs. His hands moved to slide his long hair behind his ears, but they caught air. He’d cut his straight, shoulder length hair that morning. The razor burn was fresh on the parts of his face she hadn’t seen since high school almost twenty years ago.

On the opposite couch, younger brother Raymond’s arm rested on his round belly while his cocktail stayed pressed to his lips. His widened eyes moved side-to-side like a Kit-Cat clock in slow motion. His wife, Gerry, leaned forward from his side, took care to place her drink on a coaster and not the almost-priceless Elizabethan withdrawing table and planted her face in her hands.

Nathan, their long-time House Manager, replaced the fireplace poker he was about to use, placed his stubby hands behind him, backed into the wall and awaited his instructions. From whom? The man who gave them was upstairs. Alone.

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