Page critique 10/28/21

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 10/28/21

Post by Nathan Bransford » October 25th, 2021, 12:26 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.

Title: Quar Corners
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic

Ana flinched, sensing the inaudible screech that always agitated the street dogs just before the synthesized chimes began. There were more than twenty boxes now, all mounted high on phone poles, and Silverton was small enough you could hear the announcements from anywhere. No need for Mayor Dave to address weary citizens from the decaying steps of the courthouse, the way things worked in the first two years of the quarantine. Last fall Ana's brother and his friends had killed a box down by the low-head dam. Three 12-year olds caught with stones in their pockets and slingshots in their hands. First offense, no detention but it went on their records. "Skeeter," she'd admonished. "You kill the camera first. Sneak up on it. Did you even look for it?"

When the familiar tones sounded Ana peered out the dirt-spattered window of her trailer at a gap in the trees, focusing on a streetside pole bathed in late-afternoon sunlight. Force of habit, watch the talking box. But something fluttered in her stomach; this was different. Usually the announcements came at noon and consisted of guidelines, reminders, administrivia. Toward sundown people were steeling themselves for the night. Feeding their dogs before chaining them in the yard.

Parley let himself in without knocking, letting the flimsy tin door slam closed behind him. Oblivious to the moment, Ana thought. And feeling entitled, as if he was still her boyfriend. She glanced at him, put a finger to her lips.

“Silvertonians!” proclaimed a reassuring voice.

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