Page critique 4/23/20

Offer up your page (or query) for Nathan's critique on the blog.
Post Reply
User avatar
Nathan Bransford
Posts: 1428
Joined: December 4th, 2009, 11:17 pm
Location: New York, NY

Page critique 4/23/20

Post by Nathan Bransford » April 20th, 2020, 1:16 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 on Thursday 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: Strong Roots
Genre: Women's Fiction

Some homecoming. Absolute darkness, and a dreary rain streaming down the windshield of her old Jeep.

Dana glanced at the clock. She was hours later than she’d planned, thanks to a flat tire outside of Chicago. Dark clouds had moved in while she puzzled out how to get to the jack without unpacking all of her worldly goods. As she fumbled through changing the tire, the rain let loose in earnest, leaving her and most everything she owned sopping wet.

Not much longer now, though. She decided to take the short cut and heaved on the wheel to turn onto a narrow side road, tires skidding on the greasy, wet blacktop. Vegetation closed in to form a tunnel above the car, green and lush in the beam of her headlights. She had the sensation of traveling underwater.

Dana’s neck was stiff, her shoulders tense from hunching over the wheel. The inside of the car was close and stuffy, redolent of damp clothing and the burger and fries she’d had for dinner. She cranked down the window to let the fresh scent of rain-dampened earth, of things growing wash over her and felt an immediate sense of release. Leaning as far out the window and into the wet as the seat belt would allow, she inhaled deeply. This smell was a part of her. Home.

In the cone of light ahead, a small, dark shape appeared, eyes reflecting neon green. Too late, it began to move in a quick, shambling gait...

Post Reply

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests