Page critique 9/15/22

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 9/15/22

Post by Nathan Bransford » September 12th, 2022, 4:30 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: Carousel
Genre: Sci-Fi

First 250 words:


For me, today was sixteen years ago. This time I’m going to get things right.

Atop a snarling yellow horse on the merry-go-round, a small child waves to her guardian on the sidelines; the tinny, mechanical carousel refrains of My Darling Clementine weaving in and out of the horses and children as she circles round and round.

Yes, I remember that kid, that song. This is the day.

I sit on a nearby park bench and take in the setting, scanning and searching my memory.

The kid, the song, the merry-go-round in the park. I had been wearing that sweater my grandma had made, the purple one. It was itchy. I didn’t like it, but that day had been brisk and I hadn’t owned many sweaters back then.

What had I, the adult me, been wearing? I try to remember… I remember thinking I was tall, very tall, and I had a patchy, scraggly beard.

I avoided shaving this month for just that reason.

But what if I had shaved this morning? Would this still be the day?

What if I’ve made a mistake? Chose a different path somewhere in all these years…will today still be the day?

A small panic somersaults in my chest. My God, this is insane. I’m insane! I’ve lived my entire life anticipating an event that very well may have been a dream! I’ve wasted decades waiting for a metaphysical scene that might never happen!

And then, there he is: the wool sweater weaving through the scrubby brush and elm trees that surround the merry-go-round, the color of the yarn intensified by the clouds that suddenly roll in.

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