Page critique 9/2/21

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 9/2/21

Post by Nathan Bransford » August 30th, 2021, 11:48 am

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.

Title: The Patchwork Mansion
Genre: Fantasy

Jane Bane was alone.
She lived with her father, but he was hard and cruel, and his cruelty made Jane feel more alone than if she had no contact with anyone at all.
When she wasn’t in school, she spent her time cleaning and cooking at home, which was a one-room worn-out shack. The shack was out in the middle of an empty, dusty field with very little vegetation and only insects and occasional field mice.
Deep down, Jane wanted a real family, a good family who loved each other, or at least a real friend, like the girls she saw at school who would play hand-clapping games or jump rope, and were always chatting and giggling together. The girls all wore pretty dresses and ribbons in their clean shiny hair. But the girls at school didn’t like Jane to play with them. Jane was too dirty and too shy and too weird. Jane didn’t deserve a real family or real friends.
So, instead, she imagined things. She imagined that she had secret special friends in bugs and mice that understood her, and she would have pretend conversations with someone imaginary who was just like her but better, someone who was fun and funny and kind, and who thought Jane was all those things, too.
But her father didn’t like her daydreaming.
“Get your fool head out of the clouds, you nit!” He spat one evening when her sweeping had slowed and then stopped.

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