Nathan Bransford - The Forums

On the first Monday of every month, the Spider Lady would arrive at their door.  The Spider Lady was the landlord of Slum Lane, where the MacAlastairs and many other poor families lived.  The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came to collect the rent, for they knew that if they came up short, she would not hesitate to throw them to the streets.  Typical of those families, the MacAlastairs had nowhere else to go and knew of nobody who would be willing to take them in.  Eviction therefore meant that they would either freeze to death in the cold, or starve in some dirty, lonely alley. Or both.

As the month of September crept by, from one Monday to the next, the MacAlastairs had to face the unavoidable reality: This time, there was no way they could come up with the rent.  What could be sold had been sold; what could be scrimped had been scrimped.  The bottom of the barrel had been scraped.  And scraped again.

Finally, the dreaded day arrived: the first Monday of the new month.  Outside, the cold October wind howled as it swept up and down the filthy streets.  But the Spider Lady, they knew, was impervious to cold.  It was said she had no blood to freeze.  Any minute now she would arrive at the door, dark purple cloak billowing in the wind like a captive ghost, gloved hand outstretched for the rent.  A meticulous counter, she would immediately discover that they were short.

“Don’t be absurd,” she had been overheard to say to a former tenant, “if I start allowing my tenants to pay me anything less than the full amount due—exactly on time, and in each instance—my rent would no longer hold the very first place among their financial priorities. Excuses, partial payments, and even missed payments would become common. My business would suffer. Why should I allow your irresponsibility and intransigence to cause me financial hardship? Out with you, thou useless parasite thou!”

That tenant had walked away with his suitcases into the winter wind. None of the other Slum Lane tenants had ever heard from him again. It was later said that his suitcases had been found floating in Scum River, but with no trace of the poor, broken soul himself remaining.

Was this to be their fate as well?

Bartle001 wrote:On the first Monday of every month, the Spider Lady would arrive at their door. The Spider Lady was the landlord of Slum Lane, where the MacAlastairs and many other poor families lived. The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came to collect the rent, for they knew that, if they came up short, she would not hesitate to throw them to the streets. Typical of those families, the MacAlastairs had nowhere else to go and knew of nobody who would be willing to take them in. Eviction therefore meant that they would either freeze to death in the cold, or starve in some dirty, lonely alley. Or both.

As the month of September crept by, from one Monday to the next, the MacAlastairs had to face the unavoidable reality: This, that thistime, there was no way they could come up with the rent. What could be sold had been sold; what could be scrimped had been scrimped. The bottom of the barrel had been scraped. And scraped again.

Finally, the dreaded day arrived: the first Monday of the new month. Outside, the cold October wind howled as it swept up and down the filthy streets. But the Spider Lady, they knew, was impervious to cold. It was said she had no blood to freeze. Any minute now she would arrive at the door, dark purple cloak billowing in the wind like a captive ghost, gloved hand outstretched for the rent. A meticulous counter, she would immediately discover that they were short.

“Don’t be absurd,” she had been overheard to say to a former tenant, “if I start allowing my tenants to pay me anything less than the full amount due—exactly on time, and in each instance—my rent would no longer hold the very first place among their financial priorities. Excuses, partial payments, and even missed payments would become common. My business would suffer. Why should I allow your irresponsibility and intransigence to cause me financial hardship? Out with you, thou useless parasite thou!”I think this maybe a sign of to much exposition in dialogue. Would someone really stand there and explain "well if you don't pay your rent then, blah, blah, blah, blah" or would they be more likely to say something like, "if you can't pay your rent then get out. I'm not doing this for free."

That tenant had walked away with his suitcases into the winter wind. None of the other Slum Lane tenants had ever heard from him again. It was later said that his suitcases had been found floating in Scum River, but with no trace of the poor, broken soul himself remaining.

Was this to be their fate as well?

Two major things I noticed - One, you have a lot of repetition in this one page and, not only that, but it really drags down the age from YA to MG. If I were a sixteen-year-old I wouldn't want to read a book that reminded me of "See Spot, See Spot Run, See Spot...." Here you have "The Spider Lady would arrive at the door. The Spider Lady was Landlord of Slum Lane...The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came". If you're wanting it to be Middle Grade instead of Young Adult then it might work better but, as it stands, you should probably work on the repetition.

The other thing I noticed is this is the first page of your manuscript and we never meet the main character. We have a third person reference to his family, but he never appears. Not only that but the entire page is then dedicated to the Landlord, who I'm guessing probably isn't integral to the plot, and a random tenant who was thrown out and is never seen again. Neither of these individuals matters, as far as I know, to your book and really shouldn't be the focus, and they especially shouldn't be the focus of your first page.

Aside from those two things this is good writing and I liked it. Good luck! :)

Bartle001 wrote:On the first Monday of every month, the Spider Lady would arrive at their door. The Spider Lady was the landlord of Slum Lane, where the MacAlastairs and many other poor families lived. The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came to collect the rent, for they knew that, if they came up short, she would not hesitate to throw them to the streets. Typical of those families, the MacAlastairs had nowhere else to go and knew of nobody who would be willing to take them in. Eviction therefore meant that they would either freeze to death in the cold, or starve in some dirty, lonely alley. Or both.

As the month of September crept by, from one Monday to the next, the MacAlastairs had to face the unavoidable reality: This, that thistime, there was no way they could come up with the rent. What could be sold had been sold; what could be scrimped had been scrimped. The bottom of the barrel had been scraped. And scraped again.

Finally, the dreaded day arrived: the first Monday of the new month. Outside, the cold October wind howled as it swept up and down the filthy streets. But the Spider Lady, they knew, was impervious to cold. It was said she had no blood to freeze. Any minute now she would arrive at the door, dark purple cloak billowing in the wind like a captive ghost, gloved hand outstretched for the rent. A meticulous counter, she would immediately discover that they were short.

“Don’t be absurd,” she had been overheard to say to a former tenant, “if I start allowing my tenants to pay me anything less than the full amount due—exactly on time, and in each instance—my rent would no longer hold the very first place among their financial priorities. Excuses, partial payments, and even missed payments would become common. My business would suffer. Why should I allow your irresponsibility and intransigence to cause me financial hardship? Out with you, thou useless parasite thou!”I think this maybe a sign of to much exposition in dialogue. Would someone really stand there and explain "well if you don't pay your rent then, blah, blah, blah, blah" or would they be more likely to say something like, "if you can't pay your rent then get out. I'm not doing this for free."

That tenant had walked away with his suitcases into the winter wind. None of the other Slum Lane tenants had ever heard from him again. It was later said that his suitcases had been found floating in Scum River, but with no trace of the poor, broken soul himself remaining.

Was this to be their fate as well?

Two major things I noticed - One, you have a lot of repetition in this one page and, not only that, but it really drags down the age from YA to MG. If I were a sixteen-year-old I wouldn't want to read a book that reminded me of "See Spot, See Spot Run, See Spot...." Here you have "The Spider Lady would arrive at the door. The Spider Lady was Landlord of Slum Lane...The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came". If you're wanting it to be Middle Grade instead of Young Adult then it might work better but, as it stands, you should probably work on the repetition.

The other thing I noticed is this is the first page of your manuscript and we never meet the main character. We have a third person reference to his family, but he never appears. Not only that but the entire page is then dedicated to the Landlord, who I'm guessing probably isn't integral to the plot, and a random tenant who was thrown out and is never seen again. Neither of these individuals matters, as far as I know, to your book and really shouldn't be the focus, and they especially shouldn't be the focus of your first page.

Aside from those two things this is good writing and I liked it. Good luck! :)

JadePhoenix wrote: Two major things I noticed - One, you have a lot of repetition in this one page and, not only that, but it really drags down the age from YA to MG. If I were a sixteen-year-old I wouldn't want to read a book that reminded me of "See Spot, See Spot Run, See Spot...." Here you have "The Spider Lady would arrive at the door. The Spider Lady was Landlord of Slum Lane...The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came". If you're wanting it to be Middle Grade instead of Young Adult then it might work better but, as it stands, you should probably work on the repetition.

JadePhoenix wrote:The other thing I noticed is this is the first page of your manuscript and we never meet the main character. We have a third person reference to his family, but he never appears.

On the first Monday of every month, the Spider Lady arrived at their door. The Spider Lady was the landlord of Slum Lane, where the MacAlastairs and many other poor families lived. A shivering silence descended upon the neighborhood at this time, for everyone knew that if they came up short with their rent, she would not hesitate to throw them to the streets. Typical of those tenants, Calvin and his family had nowhere else to go and knew of nobody who would be willing to take them in. Eviction therefore meant that they would either freeze to death in the cold, or starve in some dirty, lonely alley. Or both.

JadePhoenix wrote: Not only that but the entire page is then dedicated to the Landlord, who I'm guessing probably isn't integral to the plot, and a random tenant who was thrown out and is never seen again. Neither of these individuals matters, as far as I know, to your book and really shouldn't be the focus, and they especially shouldn't be the focus of your first page.

1. The landlord and her son become the main villains of the story.

2. The random tenant was introduced to show the consequence of coming up short. Don't you think it strange that he disappeared? We never learn exactly what happened to him, but based upon what we later learn about the Spider-Lady we can guess that she ambushed and devoured him. So I was kind of foreshadowing that people who displease her tend to disappear.

JadePhoenix wrote: I think this maybe a sign of to much exposition in dialogue. Would someone really stand there and explain "well if you don't pay your rent then, blah, blah, blah, blah" or would they be more likely to say something like, "if you can't pay your rent then get out. I'm not doing this for free."

I see your point. I had intended it to show that she was pernicious and condescending. I congratulate you on your good fortune if you've never been confronted by anyone like that!

JadePhoenix wrote: Aside from those two things this is good writing and I liked it. Good luck! :)

As I'm new to these boards, I'm a bit unsure on Board etiquette. Allow me to push my luck with you post this exerpt from later in the first chapter. There's a bit more dialogue here.

And, oh yes—I will change that first paragraph in light of your comments. First paragraph! The most important one!

The doorbell rang. Bravely, Calvin unfolded himself and rose from his rickety chair, picking up the small envelope that contained their rent. Trembling, he walked to the door, followed by Kalison, Elsa, and Macavity. He opened it and there she stood.

As always the Spider Lady was covered from head to toe in dark purple. Dark purple was the color of her long gown, dark purple were the gloves on her hands, the boots on her feet, and the hat on her head. Around her shoulders was a large dark purple shawl, which fluttered behind her in the wind like the cape of some ghastly, menacing vampire. Her face could not be seen, for it was shrouded by a dark purple veil. She herself could see through the veil (and, surely, she saw everything around her, missing nothing), but no one could see within. Her face was forever a mystery. It was her privilege to see others, wholly and completely, in the full nakedness of their fear, but nobody ever had the right to see her. Everywhere she went, the Spider Lady always had the advantage of those around her.

She held out her gloved hand, and on it the children saw the platinum ring she always wore, the one called the Widow’s Bite. The stone in the ring was jet black with a tiny red hourglass shape upon it, the insignia of the black widow spider—one of the deadliest spiders on earth.

Calvin stood petrified. She might have been the little sister of Fear Itself, and Calvin had to place himself and his family entirely at her mercy—of which she likely had none, if not a wholly negative supply. In months past, when the Spider Lady had held out her gloved hand, the MacAlastairs had quickly and silently given her their envelope, eyes averted, the waking nightmare of it all confined to the briefest possible segment of time. With horror, they now realized that this particular interaction would be uncomfortably protracted.

“Pay!” she commanded. Her voice was so cold, it was worse than the chill from the open door.

“Ahem! Excuse me, Miss Spider Lady, but I have something to tell you,” Calvin began.

“Spider Lady?” the menacing landlady said irritably. “Who gave you permission to call me by that name? What a detestable, insulting appellation! Know you this: My name is not ‘Spider Lady’. Never has been. Never will be. I am, as always, Dr. Denia Darkling, professional arachnologist! To call me ‘Spider Lady’ is to mock both my field of study and my accomplishments therein. But I am not surprised to find you are the sort to ridicule what you do not understand.”

“But of course!” said Elsa. “An arachnologist is a scientist who specializes in the study of spiders! Why, dear me, I should have guessed! Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea and tell us all about it? We’ve no food left, of course, but there are still a few packets of peppermint-plum perfection.” Elsa didn't appreciate the doctor’s scorn and derision, but as her family was dependent upon Denia Darkling's goodwill, she decided to try her hand at peacemaking.

“Tea? How nauseatingly quaint. Shall we sit under the cherry blossoms and sip daintily until we become best friends?” Dr. Darkling said, her voice dripping with pernicious sarcasm. “I’m not here to be your friend. Friendship has no part in business. Even if I desired friends—which, praise Anansi, I do not—I wouldn’t seek such among company of the sort you provide. The world works best when people keep to their own level. Surely, even you impertinent plebs understand that the well-to-do and the poor just shouldn’t mix.” Kalison covered her ears through this excoriation. Being musically sensitive, her ears were exceptionally delicate. Unpleasant sounds, like Dr. Darkling’s acidic tones, could sometimes make her physically ill.

“You’re a professional scientist?” asked an astonished Calvin. He was repulsed by her, but curious nonetheless. “Do you teach at Roxburghshire?” Calvin was referring to the University of Roxburghshire, where his father had taught. It was Calvin’s understanding that all famous scientists taught at universities, which was his own dream.

“The university? Again with the mockery, eh? The faculty never appreciated my genius! They called my experiments dangerous! Imagine them asking me, with my unrivalled knowledge of arachnology, to leave!” Dr. Darkling’s whole body shook as she spoke, so great was her anger. “Well, the joke is on them. I make much more money as a landlord.

“Speaking of money, you owe me quite a bit, don’t you? Pay up! After treating me so badly, it had better all be there! Not that I have any tolerance for pecuniary laggardness to begin with.”

That is so much better. I am now jealous. :) :)

Ah, I see what it is. What happened is I read your query on the query page and I don't think it mentioned the Spider Lady at all. So then I came over here and was going, "what? who is this person?" That's not anything you have to change, btw, at least I don't think so. You don't have to put every single character in a query so it's fine the way it is, I just got myself confused is all.

I get the idea now about the tenant since you explained it. I think it's just a matter of only having a small amount to read and not being able to see where it's going. I get it now! :)

Bartle001 wrote:

JadePhoenix wrote: Two major things I noticed - One, you have a lot of repetition in this one page and, not only that, but it really drags down the age from YA to MG. If I were a sixteen-year-old I wouldn't want to read a book that reminded me of "See Spot, See Spot Run, See Spot...." Here you have "The Spider Lady would arrive at the door. The Spider Lady was Landlord of Slum Lane...The Slum Lane families quaked in fear when the Spider Lady came". If you're wanting it to be Middle Grade instead of Young Adult then it might work better but, as it stands, you should probably work on the repetition.

JadePhoenix wrote:The other thing I noticed is this is the first page of your manuscript and we never meet the main character. We have a third person reference to his family, but he never appears.

On the first Monday of every month, the Spider Lady arrived at their door. The Spider Lady was the landlord of Slum Lane, where the MacAlastairs and many other poor families lived. A shivering silence descended upon the neighborhood at this time, for everyone knew that if they came up short with their rent, she would not hesitate to throw them to the streets. Typical of those tenants, Calvin and his family had nowhere else to go and knew of nobody who would be willing to take them in. Eviction therefore meant that they would either freeze to death in the cold, or starve in some dirty, lonely alley. Or both.

JadePhoenix wrote: Not only that but the entire page is then dedicated to the Landlord, who I'm guessing probably isn't integral to the plot, and a random tenant who was thrown out and is never seen again. Neither of these individuals matters, as far as I know, to your book and really shouldn't be the focus, and they especially shouldn't be the focus of your first page.

1. The landlord and her son become the main villains of the story.

2. The random tenant was introduced to show the consequence of coming up short. Don't you think it strange that he disappeared? We never learn exactly what happened to him, but based upon what we later learn about the Spider-Lady we can guess that she ambushed and devoured him. So I was kind of foreshadowing that people who displease her tend to disappear.

JadePhoenix wrote: I think this maybe a sign of to much exposition in dialogue. Would someone really stand there and explain "well if you don't pay your rent then, blah, blah, blah, blah" or would they be more likely to say something like, "if you can't pay your rent then get out. I'm not doing this for free."

I see your point. I had intended it to show that she was pernicious and condescending. I congratulate you on your good fortune if you've never been confronted by anyone like that!

Spider Lady creeped me out, which she's supposed to, so good job on that! Anyway, this is all I see so I'll leave it at that and let others on the boards comment. It's always good to get more than one point of view and more than one opinion! I like this book, it seems somewhat Harry Potterish in style (hopefully you like Harry Potter, if not forget I said anything!). :)

Bartle001 wrote:

JadePhoenix wrote: Aside from those two things this is good writing and I liked it. Good luck! :)

As I'm new to these boards, I'm a bit unsure on Board etiquette. Allow me to push my luck with you post this exerpt from later in the first chapter. There's a bit more dialogue here.

And, oh yes—I will change that first paragraph in light of your comments. First paragraph! The most important one!

The doorbell rang. Bravely, Calvin unfolded himself and rose from his rickety chair, picking up the small envelope that contained their rent. Trembling, he walked to the door, followed by Kalison, Elsa, and Macavity. He opened it and there she stood.

As always the Spider Lady was covered from head to toe in dark purplesince you told us right here that she was covered from head to toe in dark purple you don't need to repeat it if you want. You could just say.. "she wore a long gown with dark gloves, boots on her feet ant a hat on her head...." and so on. Dark purple was the color of her long gown, dark purple were the gloves on her hands, the boots on her feet, and the hat on her head. Around her shoulders was a large dark purple shawl, which fluttered behind her in the wind like the cape of some ghastly, menacing vampire. Her face could not be seen, for it was shrouded by a dark purple veil. She herself could see through the veil (and, surely, she saw everything around her, missing nothing), but no one could see within. Her face was forever a mystery. It was her privilege to see others, wholly and completely, in the full nakedness of their fear, but nobody ever had the right to see her. Everywhere she went, the Spider Lady always had the advantage of those around her.

She held out her gloved hand, and on it the children saw the platinum ring she always wore, the one called the Widow’s Bite. The stone in the ring was jet black with a tiny red hourglass shape upon it, the insignia of the black widow spider—one of the deadliest spiders on earth.

Calvin stood petrified. She might have been the little sister of Fear ItselfI don't know if the I in itself should be capped, and Calvin had to place himself and his family entirely at her mercy—of which she likely had none, if not a wholly negative supply. In months past, when the Spider Lady had held out her gloved hand, the MacAlastairs had quickly and silently given her their envelope, eyes averted, the waking nightmare of it all confined to the briefest possible segment of time. With horror, they now realized that this particular interaction would be uncomfortably protracted.

“Pay!” she commanded. Her voice was so cold, it was worse than the chill from the open door.

“Ahem! Excuse me, Miss Spider Lady, but I have something to tell you,” Calvin began.

“Spider Lady?” the menacing landlady said irritably. “Who gave you permission to call me by that name? What a detestable, insulting appellation! Know you this: My name is not ‘Spider Lady’. Never has been. Never will be. I am, as always, Dr. Denia Darkling, professional arachnologist! To call me ‘Spider Lady’ is to mock both my field of study and my accomplishments therein. But I am not surprised to find you are the sort to ridicule what you do not understand.”

“But of course!” said Elsa. “An arachnologist is a scientist who specializes in the study of spiders! Why, dear me, I should have guessed! Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea and tell us all about it? We’ve no food left, of course, but there are still a few packets of peppermint-plum perfection.” Elsa didn't appreciate the doctor’s scorn and derision, but as her family was dependent upon Denia Darkling's goodwill, she decided to try her hand at peacemaking.

“Tea? How nauseatingly quaint. Shall we sit under the cherry blossoms and sip daintily until we become best friends?” Dr. Darkling said, her voice dripping with pernicious sarcasm. “I’m not here to be your friend. Friendship has no part in business. Even if I desired friends—which, praise Anansi, I do not—I wouldn’t seek such among company of the sort you provide. The world works best when people keep to their own level. Surely, even you impertinent plebs understand that the well-to-do and the poor just shouldn’t mix.” Kalison covered her ears through this excoriation. Being musically sensitive, her ears were exceptionally delicate. Unpleasant sounds, like Dr. Darkling’s acidic tones, could sometimes make her physically ill.

“You’re a professional scientist?” asked an astonished Calvin. He was repulsed by her, but curious nonetheless. “Do you teach at Roxburghshire?” Calvin was referring to the University of Roxburghshire, where his father had taught. It was Calvin’s understanding that all famous scientists taught at universities, which was his own dream.

“The university? Again with the mockery, eh? The faculty never appreciated my genius! They called my experiments dangerous! Imagine them asking me, with my unrivalled knowledge of arachnology, to leave!” Dr. Darkling’s whole body shook as she spoke, so great was her anger. “Well, the joke is on them. I make much more money as a landlord.

“Speaking of money, you owe me quite a bit, don’t you? Pay up! After treating me so badly, it had better all be there! Not that I have any tolerance for pecuniary laggardness to begin with.”

JadePhoenix wrote:That is so much better. I am now jealous. :) :)

Thanks. I'm still a struggling unpublished writer, though.

JadePhoenix wrote: Ah, I see what it is. What happened is I read your query on the query page and I don't think it mentioned the Spider Lady at all. So then I came over here and was going, "what? who is this person?"

Well, the title is THE SON OF THE SPIDER, right?

The landlady, Dr. Denia Darkling, is an evil arachnologist. Her son, Octavius—who may or may not be human—is therefore the son of the spider. I guess more correctly he's the son of the arachnologist, but there's no alliteration in that title!

When Calvin inherits a billion pound fortune and an aristocratic title, Dr. Darkling learns that her son is a distant cousin and next in line. Nice, simple premise. You'd think I wouldn't have had so much trouble with my query!

Bartle001 wrote:The doorbell rang. Bravely, I think calling him brave in this line clashes with the description of him as "trembling" later on. If someone was brave would they tremble? I guess they might, but here it doesn't really work for me Calvin unfolded himself and rose from his rickety chair, picking up the small envelope that contained their the rent. Trembling, he walked to the door, followed by Kalison, Elsa, and Macavity. He opened it and there she stood.

As always, the Spider Lady was covered from head to toe in dark purple. Dark purple was the color of her long gown, dark purple were the gloves on her hands, the boots on her feet, and the hat on her head. Around her shoulders was a large dark purple shawl, which fluttered behind her in the wind like the cape of some ghastly, menacing vampire. Her face could not be seen, for it was shrouded by a dark purple veil. Like the repitition of "dark purple" here She herself could see through the veil (and, surely, she saw everything around her, missing nothing), but no one could see within. Her face was forever a mystery. It was her privilege to see others, wholly and completely, in the full nakedness of their fear, but nobody ever had the right to see her. Everywhere she went, the Spider Lady always had the advantage of those around her.

She held out her gloved hand, and on it the children saw the platinum ring she always wore, the one called the Widow’s Bite. The stone in the ring was jet black with and in the shape of a tiny red hourglass shape upon it, the insignia of the black widow spider—one of the deadliest spiders on earth.

Calvin stood petrified. She might have been the little sister of Fear Itself, and Calvin had to place himself and his family entirely at her mercy—of which she likely had none, if not a wholly negative supply. In months past, when the Spider Lady had held out her gloved hand, the MacAlastairs had quickly and silently given her their envelope, eyes averted, the waking nightmare of it all confined to the briefest possible segment of time. With horror, they now realized that this particular interaction would be uncomfortably protracted.

“Pay!” she commanded. Her voice was so cold, it was worse than the chill from the open door.

“Ahem! Excuse me, Miss Spider Lady, but I have something to tell you,” Calvin began. For someone who trembles at the sight her, would Calvin really have the nerve to address this woman in such a manner? If he was petrified, would he start the sentence with "Ahem!"? I don't think so. Maybe he stutters, or mumbles.

“Spider Lady?” the menacing landlady said irritably. “Who gave you permission to call me by that name? What a detestable, insulting appellation! Know you this: My name is not ‘Spider Lady’. Never has been. Never will be. I am, as always, Dr. Denia Darkling, professional arachnologist! To call me ‘Spider Lady’ is to mock both my field of study and my accomplishments therein. But I am not surprised to find you are the sort to ridicule what you do not understand.”

“But of course!” said Elsa. “An arachnologist is a scientist who specializes in the study of spiders! Why, dear me, I should have guessed! Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea and tell us all about it? We’ve no food left, of course, but there are still a few packets of peppermint-plum perfection.” Elsa didn't appreciate the doctor’s scorn and derision, but as her family was dependent upon Denia Darkling's goodwill, she decided to try her hand at peacemaking.

“Tea? How nauseatingly quaint. Shall we sit under the cherry blossoms and sip daintily until we become best friends?” Dr. Darkling said, her voice dripping with pernicious sarcasm. “I’m not here to be your friend. Friendship has no part in business. Even if I desired friends—which, praise Anansi, I do not—I wouldn’t seek such among company of the sort you provide. The world works best when people keep to their own level. Surely, even you impertinent plebs understand that the well-to-do and the poor just shouldn’t mix.” Kalison covered her ears through this excoriation. Being musically sensitive, her ears were exceptionally delicate. Unpleasant sounds, like Dr. Darkling’s acidic tones, could sometimes make her physically ill.

“You’re a professional scientist?” asked an astonished Calvin. He was repulsed by her, but curious nonetheless. “Do you teach at Roxburghshire?” Calvin was referring to the University of Roxburghshire, where his father had taught. It was Calvin’s understanding that all famous scientists taught at universities, which was his own dream.

“The university? Again with the mockery, eh? The faculty never appreciated my genius! They called my experiments dangerous! Imagine them asking me, with my unrivalled knowledge of arachnology, to leave!” Dr. Darkling’s whole body shook as she spoke, so great was her anger. “Well, the joke is on them. I make much more money as a landlord.

“Speaking of money, you owe me quite a bit, don’t you? Pay up! After treating me so badly, it had better all be there! Not that I have any tolerance for pecuniary laggardness to begin with.”

Good read. The only thing I would change is their immediate perception of her. For a family who are supposedly at her mercy, they really have no problem speaking their mind. That doesn't make sense to me. I was also left wondering what role Calvin played in the family. I'd harbour a guess that he's the father, but it should be made clear.

But please take my suggestions with a pinch of salt. It is, after all, your story.

theepicwinner wrote:
But please take my suggestions with a pinch of salt. It is, after all, your story.

I think your suggestions are perceptive, and need to think about them when I'm not so exhausted!

Many thanks!

Constructive criticism is a writer's best friend.

theepicwinner wrote:

Bartle001 wrote:The doorbell rang. Bravely, I think calling him brave in this line clashes with the description of him as "trembling" later on. If someone was brave would they tremble? I guess they might, but here it doesn't really work for me Calvin unfolded himself and rose from his rickety chair, picking up the small envelope that contained their the rent. Trembling, he walked to the door, followed by Kalison, Elsa, and Macavity. He opened it and there she stood.

Okay, I've thought about it. You're correct. Revision:

The doorbell rang. Trembling, Calvin unfolded himself and rose from his rickety chair, picking up the small envelope that contained the rent. With uncertain steps, he walked to the door, followed by Kalison, Elsa, and Macavity. He opened it and there she stood.

theepicwinner wrote:

Bartle001 wrote:“Ahem! Excuse me, Miss Spider Lady, but I have something to tell you,” Calvin began. For someone who trembles at the sight her, would Calvin really have the nerve to address this woman in such a manner? If he was petrified, would he start the sentence with "Ahem!"? I don't think so. Maybe he stutters, or mumbles.

Agree again. Revision:

“Pay!” she commanded. Her voice was so cold, it was worse than the chill from the open door.

Calvin tried to talk, but found he could only stutter.

"I am here for your money," said the Spider Lady curtly, "not your witty repartee. Or is this what passes for elocution lessons hereabouts?"

“Excuse me, Miss Spider Lady," said Calvin hoarsely, finally finding his voice, "but I have something to tell you.”

Much better now. And part of the all-important first chapter!

Thanks for the assist. You can pick my nits anytime! :)

B