First 2 pages - YA

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CC13
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First 2 pages - YA

Post by CC13 » February 16th, 2010, 4:13 pm

Alright, I'm one of those obsessive thinkers, and after a few rejections, I want to make sure it isn't the writing but other mysterious variables that go into an agent making a decision. I've already went in and changed things up, just because I'm compulsive. I welcome all feedback and will do my best to continue critiquing when time allows. Thanks in advance!

NEWEST VERSION:

OK, here is a new version with the voice changed (um, I think? hahaha) in the vision scene:


***

The guy who’d been following me was nowhere in sight. Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of guy—let alone a Greek one—follow me around added bonus points to my constantly dipping scale of self-confidence.

But the guy following me wasn’t a teenager, he was a man. Young, but still . . . Probably a perv, and one I’d seen more than once. He’d followed me in the Parthenon with my class tour yesterday and at the Temple of Delphi the day before. For him to be here at the Acropolis Museum watching me again was way too much of a coincidence. Not to mention, I could have sworn I’d seen him poof into thin air. One minute he was there, and the next? Not so much.

As much as I hated overreacting, appearing on the back of some milk carton was definitely not my future ambition in life. Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering. I could imagine it already. “Missing: Jessa Whitley, Age: 16, Eyes: Brown, Hair: Sandy blond. Smart mouth, dry sarcasm, and last seen with her class in Athens, Greece.” No way could that be my fate.

The sun illuminated the glass floor under me. I wished I had the time to revel in the excavations of ancient Greece below, but knowing Mr. Beckett, he was probably five kinds of pissed at my disappearance from the class tour. Ceramic pediment sculptures lined the flight of stairs up ahead. My class was up there, in the Archaic gallery.

A colonnade of white life-sized statues on the second floor stretched the length of several rooms. As I took the next step, something tugged on my shoe, and I watched in horrified helplessness as my other foot—trapped by a stepped-on shoe lace—sent me tumbling. I fell forward into a large, doughy man, pushed away, and tried to right myself by grasping the next closest thing. A statue.

My hand tightened over the smooth curves of the statue’s foot, steadying my balance. A weird current pulsed into my skin. My breath caught. The muscles in my fingers trembled in unison and a thick, coppery taste filled my mouth. “What the—”In a blink, I was suddenly in a dream. Or having some really messed up hallucinations.

Instead of standing in the museum, dark waves attacked me. Now I had a second to finish my “What the hell?” thought. I grasped for something, anything, but only found myself tangled in white cloth. Holy crap, I couldn’t breathe. I tried untwisting myself to find my inhaler, but then realized what a stupid idea that had to be. And, um, yeah, I was under water somehow. This couldn’t be real. Deep breathes. Open your eyes. Wake up. I had to get out of this. But where was this? A second ago I was in the Acropolis and now, wait a minute, what the heck is that?

White fire licked away the waves. I tried figuring out what I was seeing, where I was, why this was happening. Had someone slipped me a crazy pill during lunch? The flames drew up a wall around me. I had a strange impulse to reach out and touch the fire, and for some stupid reason, I did. Instead of burning my skin, the flames cowered, flickering from my touch. And then a thousand screams of terror tore through my head like someone had turned the volume up full blast, guaranteeing me a skull-shattering headache. This had to stop. I pressed my eyes shut. Go away, I thought. And don’t come back another day, either.

I opened my eyes, only to be greeted by a creepy pair of yellow ones. I tried to scream, but dammit, nothing came out. The demonic whispers beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head. Behind the freaky yellow eyes appeared another set, deep blue like an ocean. The screams, the whispers, the eyes, the pain, forced together, growing, expanding, until one word cut through the chatter and silenced it.

Amara.

(old version erased)

***end excerpt**

After this, the break ends and she's back in the museum. I'm wondering if having the vision there is eh, or what? I entered the first 25 pages into an RWA contest and it's in the finals right now. One of the judges liked the vision. A beta reader liked it, too. So I'm not sure if it's this or something else (or hopefully not my writing at all! *cheesey smile*). Is it just the concept? Is it too voicey? I feel like banging my head against the desk. Thanks again to any who can offer their thoughts!
Last edited by CC13 on February 16th, 2010, 10:00 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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maybegenius
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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by maybegenius » February 16th, 2010, 5:47 pm

Hi CC13! Thanks for posting. I'll go through this line by line, then give my overall thoughts below :D
CC13 wrote:I hurried past the museum’s ancient sculptures to get back to my class. (This first line is kind of meh. I'd actually start with your next line - it's more interesting) The guy who’d been following me was nowhere in sight. Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of guy—let alone a Greek one—follow me around added bonus points to my constantly dipping scale of self-confidence.

But the guy following me wasn’t a teenager, he was a man. Young, but still . . . Probably a perv, and one I’d seen more than once. He’d followed me in the Parthenon with my class tour yesterday and at the Temple of Delphi the day before. For him to be here at the Acropolis Museum, watching me again, was way too much of a coincidence. Not to mention, I could have sworn I’d seen him poof into thin air. One minute he was there, and the next? Not so much.

As much as I hated overreacting, appearing on the back of some milk carton was definitely not my future ambition in life. (Do they still do people on milk cartons anymore? Would a teenager in 2010 know about it?) Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering. I could imagine it already. “Missing: Jessa Whitley, Age: 16, Eyes: Brown, Hair: Sandy blond. Smart mouth, dry sarcasm, and last seen with her class in Athens, Greece.” (Nice way to introduce your character's appearance) No way could that be my fate.

The sun illuminated the glass floor under me. I wished I had the time to revel in the excavations of ancient Greece below, but knowing Mr. Beckett, though, he was probably five kinds of pissed at my disappearance from the class tour. The smell of freshly roasted coffee and sticky sweet rolls hovered around the small café I rushed past. Ceramic pediment sculptures lined the flight of stairs up ahead. My class was up there, in the Archaic gallery. (The descriptions here drag a little. They could probably be cut or tightened. You want to indicate that she's in a hurry to find her class - it's unlikely she'd be taking in detailed descriptions of her surroundings right now.)

A colonnade of white life-sized statues on the second floor stretched the length of several rooms. As I took the next step, something tugged on my shoe, and I watched in horrified helplessness as my other foot—trapped by a stepped-on shoe lace—sent me tumbling. I flailed forward into a large, doughy man, pushed away, and tried to right myself by grasping the next closest thing. A statue.

(Right here is where I start to notice a major shift in your character's voice. I'll go into more detail below.)
My hand tightened over the smooth curves of the statue’s foot, steadying my balance. A weird current pulsed into my skin. My breath hitched. The muscles in my fingers twitched in unison and a thick, coppery taste filled my mouth. “What the—”


Instead of standing in the museum, black waves suffocated me, choked, pushed, pulled . . . I grasped for something, anything, but only found myself tangled in twirls of white cloth. (She's surrounded by black waves AND white cloth? If she's wrapped in one or the other, wouldn't it be the only thing she could see?) Spasms laced my legs as I kicked. The cloth tied me up, binding me to my fate beneath the waves. A deafening roar filled my head like the water pooling in my lungs. They blazed, sure to explode as the last bubbles of air burst from my lips. My chest swelled. The pain was unbearable. The waters devoured me, pulling me to a dark abyss.

White fire licked away the waves. I tried figuring out what I was seeing, where I was, why this was happening. (I would think she'd be too dazed to figure out much of anything at the moment! Maybe just have her focus on one thought.) The fire lashed around, growing into a frenzy of orange and yellow. The flames enticed me, called to me. I knew it was crazy, but I reached out. Instead of burning my skin, the flames cowered, flickering from my touch. Screams of a hundred, or a thousand, all anguished, horrifying screams rattled between my ears. (Awkward sentence. I'd pick either a hundred or a thousand. "Anguished" and "horrifying" are on the redundant side. Pick one. And they rattled "between" her ears? Like inside her brain?)

Yellow eyes stared into my soul. Demonic-sounding whispers nestling (I'd use a different word here - "nestling" is a pleasant word, and you want something more sinister) beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head. Amidst the malicious eyes a new pair appeared, as blue as the ocean. (Is there more than one set of yellow eyes? I had thought there was only one pair, so this makes it sound like the blue eyes appear between or inside the two yellow eyes.) Helpful eyes. Trustworthy eyes. The screams, the whispers, the eyes, the pain, forced together, growing, expanding, until one word cut through the chatter and silenced it.

Amara.
Okay, my overall thoughts: the one big thing that stood out for me was that your character goes through a major voice shift, as I mentioned above. You start her out as having a casual, sarcastic, teenage voice, and then suddenly she's speaking in metaphor and her whole approach to the language has changed. She goes from phrases like "Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering" and "Probably a perv" to phrases like "The waters devoured me, pulling me to a dark abyss" and "Demonic-sounding whispers beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head."

Those don't sound like the sort of phrases the girl from your opening would use. The scene itself is gripping and interesting, but the voice is off. Get into your character's head here. Would "smart-mouthed, dry-witted" Jessa speak like that? The second half puts me more in mind of a poetic honor student who's preparing to go to Julliard in the fall. I would think Jessa would be thinking something more along the lines of, "Holy crap, I can't breathe. Everything's dark - what's going on? My lungs are on fire. I have to figure a way out of this. Out of what? I WAS JUST IN A MUSEUM AND NOW I'M DROWNING IN A DREAM-SEA, WHATDOIDO???"

Show us how your razor-witted character would react to the situation.

Outside the voice shift, I think the scene is intriguing! I'm curious if it was the statue that gave her the vision, or the strange man following her, or her own power.

Hope that helps!
aka S.E. Sinkhorn, or Steph

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by Lunetta22 » February 16th, 2010, 6:40 pm

The voice shift doesn't bother me too much, because I kind of like flowery words for visions. However I wonder if it is the setting that is off putting. The famous Percy Jackson books begin in a museum where he first experiences his demigod nature...maybe it is just seeming too similar to those books. Maybe the Parthenon or the Temple Of Zeus would be a good place to show the vision. Just a thought.

I think the writing and voice is nice, however. I would read more. :)

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by Nick » February 16th, 2010, 6:57 pm

maybegenius wrote: (Do they still do people on milk cartons anymore? Would a teenager in 2010 know about it?)
I don't know that they still slap it on a carton, but yes, we do. And not just the older lads like myself. Hell, my 7-year-old cousin knows the whole milk carton thing. It's pretty much a culture staple at this point.

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by taylormillgirl » February 16th, 2010, 7:02 pm

CC13 wrote:Alright, I'm one of those obsessive thinkers, and after a few rejections, I want to make sure it isn't the writing but other mysterious variables that go into an agent making a decision. I've already went in and changed things up, just because I'm compulsive. I welcome all feedback and will do my best to continue critiquing when time allows. Thanks in advance!

***

I hurried past the museum’s ancient sculptures to get back to my class. The guy who’d been following me was no where in sight. Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of guy—let alone a Greek one—follow me around added bonus points to my constantly dipping scale of self-confidence.

But the guy following me wasn’t a teenager, he was a man. Young, but still . . . Probably a perv, and one I’d seen more than once. He’d followed me in the Parthenon with my class tour yesterday and at the Temple of Delphi the day before. To be here at the Acropolis Museum, watching me again, was way too much of a coincidence. Not to mention, I could have sworn I’d seen him poof into thin air. One minute he was there, and the next? Not so much.

As much as I hated overreacting, appearing on the back of some milk carton was definitely not my future ambition in life. Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering. I could imagine it already. “Missing: Jessa Whitley, Age: 16, Eyes: Brown, Hair: Sandy blond. Smart mouth, dry sarcasm, and last seen with her class in Athens, Greece.” No way could that be my fate.

The sun illuminated the glass floor under me. I wished I had the time to revel in the excavations of ancient Greece below. Knowing Mr. Beckett, though, he was probably five kinds of pissed at my disappearance from the class tour. The smell of freshly roasted coffee and sticky sweet rolls hovered around the small café I rushed past. Ceramic pediment sculptures lined the flight of stairs up ahead. My class was up there, in the Archaic gallery. This is when I went into skim mode.

A colonnade of white life-sized statues on the second floor stretched the length of several rooms. As I took the next step, something tugged on my shoe, and I watched in horrified helplessness as my other foot—trapped by a stepped-on shoe lace—sent me tumbling. I flailed forward into a large, doughy man, pushed away, and tried to right myself by grasping the next closest thing. A statue.

My hand tightened over the smooth curves of the statue’s foot, steadying my balance. A weird current pulsed into my skin. My breath hitched. The muscles in my fingers twitched in unison and a thick, coppery taste filled my mouth. “What the—” This is when I started paying attention again, but the whole thing confused me. I didn't know she was having a vision. I thought someone had kidnapped her, put a sack over her head, and was drowning her.


Instead of standing in the museum, black waves suffocated me, choked, pushed, pulled . . . I grasped for something, anything, but only found myself tangled in twirls of white cloth. Spasms laced my legs as I kicked. The cloth tied me up, binding me to my fate beneath the waves. A deafening roar filled my head like the water pooling in my lungs. They blazed, sure to explode as the last bubbles of air burst from my lips. My chest swelled. The pain was unbearable. The waters devoured me, pulling me to a dark abyss.

White fire licked away the waves. I tried figuring out what I was seeing, where I was, why this was happening. The fire lashed around, growing into a frenzy of orange and yellow. The flames enticed me, called to me. I knew it was crazy, but I reached out. Instead of burning my skin, the flames cowered, flickering from my touch. Screams of a hundred, or a thousand, all anguished, horrifying screams rattled between my ears.

Yellow eyes. They stared into my soul. Demonic-sounding whispers nestling beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head. Amidst the malicious eyes a new pair appeared, as blue as the ocean. Helpful eyes. Trustworthy eyes. The screams, the whispers, the eyes, the pain, forced together, growing, expanding, until one word cut through the chatter and silenced it.

Totally, totally agree with the previous poster about the voice shift. The purple prose-ish, dramatic language was not only a contrast from the earlier paragraphs, but I think it takes away from the power of your story. These last paragraphs were very confusing to me. I'd rewrite them in the clear, straightforward tone of your opening paragraphs.

Amara.

***end excerpt**

After this, the break ends and she's back in the museum. I'm wondering if having the vision there is eh, or what? I entered the first 25 pages into an RWA contest and it's in the finals right now. One of the judges liked the vision. A beta reader liked it, too. So I'm not sure if it's this or something else (or hopefully not my writing at all! *cheesey smile*). Is it just the concept? Is it too voicey? I feel like banging my head against the desk. Thanks again to any who can offer their thoughts!
Author of hot & humorous romances, debut novel coming in 2012 from Sourcebooks!
http://macybeckett.com/

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by bcomet » February 16th, 2010, 8:02 pm

CC13 wrote:Alright, I'm one of those obsessive thinkers, and after a few rejections, I want to make sure it isn't the writing but other mysterious variables that go into an agent making a decision. I've already went in and changed things up, just because I'm compulsive. I welcome all feedback and will do my best to continue critiquing when time allows. Thanks in advance!

***

I hurried past the museum’s ancient sculptures to get back to my class. The guy who’d been following me was no where in sight. Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of guy—let alone a Greek one—follow me around added bonus points to my constantly dipping scale of self-confidence.

But the guy following me wasn’t a teenager, he was a man. Young, but still . . . Probably a perv, and one I’d seen more than once. He’d followed me in the Parthenon with my class tour yesterday and at the Temple of Delphi the day before. To be here at the Acropolis Museum, watching me again, was way too much of a coincidence. Not to mention, I could have sworn I’d seen him poof into thin air. One minute he was there, and the next? Not so much.

As much as I hated overreacting, appearing on the back of some milk carton was definitely not my future ambition in life. Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering. I could imagine it already. “Missing: Jessa Whitley, Age: 16, Eyes: Brown, Hair: Sandy blond. Smart mouth, dry sarcasm, and last seen with her class in Athens, Greece.” No way could that be my fate.

The sun illuminated the glass floor under me. I wished I had the time to revel in the excavations of ancient Greece below. Knowing Mr. Beckett, though, he was probably five kinds of pissed at my disappearance from the class tour. The smell of freshly roasted coffee and sticky sweet rolls hovered around the small café I rushed past. Ceramic pediment sculptures lined the flight of stairs up ahead. My class was up there, in the Archaic gallery.

A colonnade of white life-sized statues on the second floor stretched the length of several rooms. As I took the next step, something tugged on my shoe, and I watched in horrified helplessness as my other foot—trapped by a stepped-on shoe lace—sent me tumbling. I flailed fell forward into a large, doughy man, pushed away, and tried to right myself by grasping the next closest thing. A statue.

My hand tightened over the smooth curves of the statue’s foot, steadying my balance. {I felt}a weird current pulsed intoon my skin. My breath hitched(pulsed/hitched/twitched are a bit awkward) caught. The muscles in my fingerstwitchedspasmed in unison and a thick, coppery taste filled my mouth. “What the—”


Instead of standing in the museum, black waves suffocated me, choked, pushed, pulled . . . I grasped for something, anything, but only found myself tangled in twirls of white cloth. Spasms laced my legs as I kicked. The cloth tied me up, binding me to my fate beneath the waves. A deafening roar filled my head like the water pooling in my lungs. They blazed,felt like they were sure to explode as the last bubbles of air burst from my lips. My chest swelled. The pain was unbearable. The waters devoured me, pulling me to a dark abyss.

White fire licked away the waves. I tried figuring out what I was seeing, where I was, why this was happening. The fire lashed around, growing into a frenzy of orange and yellow. The flames enticed me, called to me. I knew it was crazy, but I reached out. Instead of burning my skin, the flames cowered, flickering from my touch. Screams of a hundred, or a thousand, all anguished, horrifying screams rattled between my ears.

Yellow eyes. They stared into my soul. Demonic-sounding whispers nestling beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head. Amidst the malicious eyes a new pair appeared, as blue as the ocean. Helpful eyes. Trustworthy eyes. The screams, the whispers, the eyes, the pain, forced together, growing, expanding, until one word cut through the chatter and silenced it.

Amara.

***end excerpt**

After this, the break ends and she's back in the museum. I'm wondering if having the vision there is eh, or what? I entered the first 25 pages into an RWA contest and it's in the finals right now. One of the judges liked the vision. A beta reader liked it, too. So I'm not sure if it's this or something else (or hopefully not my writing at all! *cheesey smile*). Is it just the concept? Is it too voicey? I feel like banging my head against the desk. Thanks again to any who can offer their thoughts!
I was totally hooked by this excerpt. I would watch some of the awkward words that felt off-voice to me. Not necessarily using what I put in, but something more "typical teenager voice" in those spots. But this was fabulous and I want to READ MORE! Fabulous excerpt!!!
Last edited by bcomet on February 16th, 2010, 8:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.

CC13
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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by CC13 » February 16th, 2010, 8:45 pm

Thank you guys for offering up suggestions! The voice with the visions was an intentional thing. I think differently subconsciously than I do consciously, if that makes any sense. But should I use a better transition, i.e. "A mirage of visions side-lined me." Or something like that? Hm, I may try a version of the visions in her normal voice and see how that goes. Thanks again, and any more suggestions are always welcome.

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by Sea » February 16th, 2010, 9:08 pm

I think it's a great start. The voice in the first few paragraphs is highly appealing. I agree with a lot of what has been said though - I'd cut the first sentence, take out some of the details where she's in a hurry - like others I start skim reading there, and I would definitely leave the vision in, but KEEP HER VOICE CONSISTENT.

Voice is so incredibly important to a good book, especially one told in the first person. You have a great voice at the start, that is very appealing and makes for an easy and enjoyable read. The drastic change when the vision begins changes the whole tone of the book. Suddenly I have to re-read sentences to understand what's happening (and even then I can't really). It is not a good place to get bogged down so early in a book, and I don't think it's even necessary. All the good things the vision does for the story (ie creates intrigue, excitement, something out of the ordinary) can be done using the dry, sarcastic voice of Jessa. She can be scared of course and might not be quite so sarcastic, but use her language.

If an agent or publisher reads that, I imagine they might think 'can't keep voice consistent, that means the characters aren't well-developed'. Keep the power of your strong character of Jessa. It sounds like you have a great premise for a book here. I'd like to read it!

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by CC13 » February 16th, 2010, 9:57 pm

OK, here is a new version with the voice changed (um, I think? hahaha) in the vision scene:


***

The guy who’d been following me was nowhere in sight. Don’t get me wrong, having any kind of guy—let alone a Greek one—follow me around added bonus points to my constantly dipping scale of self-confidence.

But the guy following me wasn’t a teenager, he was a man. Young, but still . . . Probably a perv, and one I’d seen more than once. He’d followed me in the Parthenon with my class tour yesterday and at the Temple of Delphi the day before. For him to be here at the Acropolis Museum watching me again was way too much of a coincidence. Not to mention, I could have sworn I’d seen him poof into thin air. One minute he was there, and the next? Not so much.

As much as I hated overreacting, appearing on the back of some milk carton was definitely not my future ambition in life. Besides, last year's school picture was so not flattering. I could imagine it already. “Missing: Jessa Whitley, Age: 16, Eyes: Brown, Hair: Sandy blond. Smart mouth, dry sarcasm, and last seen with her class in Athens, Greece.” No way could that be my fate.

The sun illuminated the glass floor under me. I wished I had the time to revel in the excavations of ancient Greece below, but knowing Mr. Beckett, he was probably five kinds of pissed at my disappearance from the class tour. Ceramic pediment sculptures lined the flight of stairs up ahead. My class was up there, in the Archaic gallery.

A colonnade of white life-sized statues on the second floor stretched the length of several rooms. As I took the next step, something tugged on my shoe, and I watched in horrified helplessness as my other foot—trapped by a stepped-on shoe lace—sent me tumbling. I fell forward into a large, doughy man, pushed away, and tried to right myself by grasping the next closest thing. A statue.

My hand tightened over the smooth curves of the statue’s foot, steadying my balance. A weird current pulsed into my skin. My breath caught. The muscles in my fingers trembled in unison and a thick, coppery taste filled my mouth. “What the—” In a blink, I was suddenly in a dream. Or having some really messed up hallucinations.


Instead of standing in the museum, dark waves attacked me. Now I had a second to finish my “What the hell?” thought. I grasped for something, anything, but only found myself tangled in white cloth. Holy crap, I couldn’t breathe. I tried untwisting myself to find my inhaler, but then realized what a stupid idea that had to be. And, um, yeah, I was under water somehow. This couldn’t be real. Deep breathes. Open your eyes. Wake up. I had to get out of this. But where was this? A second ago I was in the Acropolis and now, wait a minute, what the heck is that?

White fire licked away the waves. I tried figuring out what I was seeing, where I was, why this was happening. Had someone slipped me a crazy pill during lunch? The flames drew up a wall around me. I had a strange impulse to reach out and touch the fire, and for some stupid reason, I did. Instead of burning my skin, the flames cowered, flickering from my touch. And then a thousand screams of terror tore through my head like someone had turned the volume up full blast, guaranteeing me a skull-shattering headache. This had to stop. I pressed my eyes shut. Go away, I thought. And don’t come back another day, either.

I opened my eyes, only to be greeted by a creepy pair of yellow ones. I tried to scream, but dammit, nothing came out. The demonic whispers beneath the blood cries climbed to a crescendo in my head. Behind the freaky yellow eyes appeared another set, deep blue like an ocean. The screams, the whispers, the eyes, the pain, forced together, growing, expanding, until one word cut through the chatter and silenced it.

Amara.

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maybegenius
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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by maybegenius » February 16th, 2010, 10:58 pm

Yes, I like that so much better! Even though you can feel that she's panicked, she's still being quirky and interesting. I understand what you mean about not thinking the same way you speak, but in a first-person narrative, EVERYTHING is supposed to be inside her head, you know? There are some places where you can cut words (I think you could cut "but dammit" in the last paragraph) and tidy up the grammar.

Yay! I really do like this voice so much better :D
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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by Lunetta22 » February 16th, 2010, 11:22 pm

I like the newer version of this as well. Needs a bit tidying up as maybegenius said, but this seems like a fun read.

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by bcomet » February 17th, 2010, 3:23 am

Good job! Small changes = stronger voice. Makes the excerpt even better! Makes it sing!
Amazing, isn't it, how small changes can do that!

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by CC13 » February 17th, 2010, 11:54 am

Thanks everyone!

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by paranormalchick » February 17th, 2010, 3:34 pm

I like your new verison :D. Nice changes.

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Re: First 2 pages - YA

Post by lachrymal » February 17th, 2010, 9:03 pm

I do like your revision that keeps the voice consistent--it made it much more interesting, actually.

One edit--I think you mean "deep breaths" instead of "deep breathes".

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