I should make that a bit more clearer. The librarian was the one addressing her. Perhaps, I’m trying too hard?
It feels a bit like that. Is it the very start of the book, or are you in the middle? If we already know the characters, it is easier. If it is the first time we meet them, perhaps start with a sentence that states Who is doing What Where to kick off the scene and introduce the main character.
The start of the book and I’ll do that.
My niece started Chapter 19. It’s my turn to write next, and I’m wondering how I should pursue this. The point of this chapter is, Rose gets into a fight with her friend after the friend steals her journal. Several issues get brought up in the fight, and Rose storms out and goes to her new boyfriend’s house. My problem is…how do I get to that point?
Rose sat, pencil in hand staring at the blank page of her journal. It had been a few days since the party, and Rose finally broke down at Cat’s behest and went to see the town psychiatrist. He recommended that she keep track of her days in a journal to help sort out her thoughts. He wanted her to write no less than one page every day until her next visit in a week. Frankly, Rose didn’t see how writing down all of this would help her sleep.
She flipped back to the previous day’s entry, re-reading it hoping for some inspiration for today’s entry. It was already nine pm and she hadn’t even managed to come up with a single word worth writing down. Yesterday she had spent several hours at the hotel making sure everything stayed in order for the big Crimson Inc. conference taking place. She noticed the red-haired woman seemed to have vanished and no one would acknowledge it. Lucifer even acted like Rose was crazy for suggesting the woman existed at all.
If that were true, then why had this particular woman been mentioned so many times in her first entry? Nothing seemed to make sense in her writings. One day she would write about someone or something, but the next everyone would deny it even happened.
With everything else becoming a huge puzzle, it was nice Komazzi was becoming one of the few stable things in her life. They had been texting nonstop since the party. Sometimes serious things, other times they would send each other a funny or cute picture. The last message she had gotten from him an hour ago was a picture of him in a meeting room rolling his eyes. It was random, but it still made Rose smile when she saw it.
I like this! I like how there is a bit of a mystery. I would say to get to the scene you have in mind, mention that her friend stops by and she leaves the journal unattended. Maybe Rose gets frustrated because she is unsure of what to write, and leaves it open. The friend uses the restroom and finds the journal somehow.
This is from a story of mine about a vampire named Marjorie. She is basically the head vampire of New Orleans, runs a badass coven, and she is ruthless and cunning. This is from the beginning of her story, only I am unsure if this is where it should start.
There was no fear in Marjorie’s heart as she considered what would need to be done tonight. There was only anger.
Three months ago, a small coven had emerged. They began to feed on other vampires, which was against Marjorie’s rules for her city. The first time she paid them a visit, they had sworn not to ever drink the blood of another vampire. Three days later, she found the body of one of the fledglings in her coven.
Drained. Beheaded. The sickest part? The cannibalistic coven had taken her extremities and strung them along their necks. As though they were proud of what they had done. Like a twisted trophy.
But they didn’t call Marjorie Charles Devereaux the Queen of Hell for nothing. And she was about to repay the coven in kind for their services.
As she walked down the hallway, her ears detected noise at the end of the corridor. Her heart beat slipped into a calm rhythm- it was showtime.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” She crooned, her voice a crowbar covered in velvet. “You sick, perverted bastards.”
“Hm?” I think my voice is a little strained right now. No worries. A hall of fame hockey puck is probably just stuck in my throat. I lost the ability to form a coherent string of words. His gravelly voice interrupts my brain from trying.
“Tell me why you couldn’t sleep.”
From Chapter 5 of my alternate history novel
“Well that’s what I’m getting to,” Lorca replies evenly. “That bombing at the rally in Atlanta a couple days ago, gave us the break we’ve been waiting for.” Lorca pulls out another sheet and slides it in front of Stephens. “We arrested those three suspects in the aftermath and they, for the first time in two years, have given us testimony directly linking the Klan to the attack. And that means,” he motions toward the massive binder, “we can finally use CAHR to get warrants to search every location linked to the Klan and look for any other evidence of hate crimes. If we happen to find other illegal items or evidence of crime in the search by happy coincidence,” he shrugs, “well then anything found through a CAHR warrant search can be prosecuted before the CAHR court.”
“Now who’s exploiting legal loopholes?” Stephens asks, though with the skepticism in his voice disappearing. He flips through the binder nodding and giving vibes of approval. He looks at Lorca. “When you wrangled that concession out of the lawmakers to let you prosecute anything you found with a CAHR warrant in a CAHR court, I will admit I was shocked. Thought they would never go for it. Guess they never thought you would be able to make use of it.”
Thanks for the advice! It helped me get going. I love what you’ve written here, the details are so good!
“You aren’t wrong, it has been even more stressful than I would have imagined.” Katrina paused for a moment, wondering if it were proper to mention her recent run-in with a woman threatening to kill her and the strange donation of money from someone she had never heard of. She decided against it as worrying Henry was the last thing she would want to do, he already had enough on his plate as it is.
“But, I think it is just the upcoming exam and maybe my dad. His health is just deteriorating so quickly, and his treatments are getting more expensive.” Katrina wasn’t lying, but she was only telling a half told truth - if only he knew what the last few days were like for Katrina.
“Do they have any idea on his prognosis? If he has - well - much time left?” Katrina cringed at those words as her throat tightened up. She had not spoken to her father much as his ill health left him busy most the time. All she knew was his prognosis wasn’t well and that the cancer has spread to multiple other major organs.
“It could be better,” Katrina mustered up as their meals arrived. Katrina got a simple chocolate croissant with a side of scrambled eggs while Henry got a large cinnamon roll with chocolate sauce sputtered on the top. Two cups of hot chocolate were served on the side as Katrina licked her lips as excitement bubbled in her stomach. She never treated herself to such an expensive meal; she decided to stick with a cheaper cafe that did not cause such a dent in her scholarship.
“Well, at least we know she wasn’t suicidal,” I said.
“At least we got our proof now,” said Tanta.
“Not so fast,” I said. “We need more. What else was on the document you found?”
“A payment of 4,000 tali from Janie Mara to Savonal Staffing Solutions. That’s all that was on the paper. That, and the King’s stamp.”
“Janie Mara… Why does that name sound familiar?” I muttered to myself. Janie… Janie… Janie…
“Janie!” exclaimed Kurie. “Janie Mara, the new Minister of Defense! He was the one who ordered the model B-2s!”
“The model what?”
“The ships. The ones I pointed out to you.”
“Oh, god. I hardly even remembered that.”
“Well, you should have,” said Kurie with a smirk. “Sometimes it pays off to be a nerd.”
“We would have found out who Janie was anyway without your obscure knowledge.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Guys, as much as I love watching you guys banter,” said Tanta, “we need to get more info. Who is this Janie Mara guy?”
I’m glad of this thread because the paragraph I was working on yesterday feels kind of awkward but that could just be me ^^
Context: this is the end of a diary entry written by a former doctor and survivor of a nuclear war, from my work, the Society.
I haven’t seen Maria or her husband since Charlie died, or at least, since he was buried. Maria and James were married before the disasters; people in the Society have mostly reverted to effective polygamy. The younger of the two boys who buried Charlie told me yesterday that he saw Maria’s husband sitting in front of their house after the burial. It is not uncommon to forgo a funeral here, especially for someone so young, but Maria’s family had come from Mexico and were involved very heavily in the Catholic faith before the wars. Perhaps Maria has since lost her faith in prayer. They were far closer to the blast area than I had ever been when it happened. Still, she wears her rosary even today, and I find it strange now that she held no procession or vigil over the body. I find it strange too that she didn’t say anything to me when she brought Charlie; she looked like she had been crying then, but did not do so in front of me. Now, though, I find myself too tired to worry more about it. In truth, I’m probably too tired to sleep.
What part feels awkward? Maybe you can break up the paragraph a bit, kind of separate her thoughts into paragraphs.
I scrutinize at Kyro’s hand and back at his beautifully sculpted face. Although he’s physically towering over me, I feel like I’m towering over him with emotions. Kyro finally looks at me in the eyes. “Why is this even necessary? We basically both made it clear that we hate each other. So just save your breath and energy and dance with someone that’s more enjoyable ,” I criticize.
Then I realize as I study the people around me, they’re giving me strange looks. I sigh. I glance back at Kyro, who’s now two footsteps in front of me. “Anna, can we just save it and just act like decent people for once?” Kyro takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. He leans in closer to me as he puts his arms around my waist and his mouth so close to my ear, I can feel his breath, breathing in and out. My head is laying on his chest. “We are trying to act like a couple aren’t we?” His breath lingers on the side of my cheek and my earlobe.
My eye twitches in frustration. “I don’t want to be affiliated with the likes of you. You almost punched a hole through my face. Why should I obey you?” I murmur harshly.
Nit-picky grammar things that don’t affect the story as a whole but you may find important (skip if unimportant):
- in the first paragraph “if it were proper” is just as correct as “if it was proper” (because there is no conditional tense following it), so you can pick whichever one you think sounds better
- “of someone she had never heard of” should technically be “of whom she had never heard” but colloquially, I think only John Green cares about this grammar rule
- “if he has - well - much time left?” can/maybe should be “if he has, well, much time left?”
- “his prognosis wasn’t well”, -> “his prognosis wasn’t good”
- not a grammar thing but the word for cancer spreading to multiple organs is metastasized, if you didn’t know that already. It could potentially shorten the sentence.
- also not a grammar thing but are chocolate croissants paired with scrambled eggs good…?
Overall, I’m interested and it kept my attention which I guess is what any part of a story should do^^ structurally, it’s good and the dialogue isn’t awkward or forced which I personally struggle with (like, a lot).
About the 3rd sentence to the 6th, felt like 'splainsposition to me, even though I wrote it
I might consider breaking it up; maybe make a new paragraph at “it is not uncommon”. Thanks for the feedback^^
Thank you thank you thank you! I suck with everything grammar-wise. And I couldn’t find the right word for metastasized, I legit couldn’t remember. And OMG YES. The croissant is on the side but the eggs are scrambled with some cheese and bacon bits make it delicious.
Also, thank you. I am happy I haven’t posted it yet, lmao. Needs a lot of work.
The second to last last paragraph seems like it needs broken up or something. It’s Rose listening to Allie talk over the phone, so does it work?
The shrill ringing of her cellphone demanded Rose’s attention. She cringed at the contact photo on the screen. “Hey, Allie,” she yawned, feigning exhaustion. Maybe Allie would get the point and not talk for long. “I was just about to go to bed.”
“You never answered my texts,” Allie whined. Rose heard the low drone of the TV in the background, mingled with the voices of Effie and Duke arguing over the remote. “Is everything okay? Josh told me that there was a party in the forest this weekend. He said you went with Kocoum, why didn’t you tell me he asked you out?”
Rose shoved her journal aside; so much for getting an entry finished tonight. She would have to write two pages tomorrow to catch up. “It wasn’t a big deal, I won’t be seeing Kocoum again,” she said firmly.
The events at the party replayed like a strange dream in her mind. The attack on Komazzi was horrible enough, but Rose wondered if Kocoum felt threatened by her other friends too. He watched them constantly when they were in view, as if observing their actions. From her years of therapy, she knew that jealousy was typical behavior of a possessive person. When he saw Matt, Rose could only describe the look in Kocoum’s eyes as a hunter who stumbled upon fresh meat. Rose still couldn’t shake the creepy feeling that look gave her.
“Nobody invited me,” Allie said, and Rose braced herself for the impending bitch fit. She had the feeling Paxton put the word out to everyone not to let Allie know about the party. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Jessie there either. “We all went to school together, a reunion would have been fun! Cat is trying to turn you against me, she’s already got most of our friends in her clutches. You can’t let her get to you, Rose, she’s dangerous!”
“Huh? What does Cat have to do with you not getting an invite?” Rose groaned.
Here’s the last paragraph I wrote and uploaded just now:
Upon seeing the results, Roni ranks second in her short program. She doesn’t mind since she knows her FS is her trump card. The trio gets caught by a female reporter as they exit the arena.
“Hi, Miss Veronika! I’m a reporter for an ice skating magazine. I hope you don’t mind answering some questions about you.”
“No, I don’t mind.” Roni blushes a little.
“First off, how did you get to be so good with the quads?”
“There’s no secret really. It’s just I practice hard. In fact, I’ve been practicing them since I was a kid. It’s only recently I mastered them. And even then, I still have ways to go before I attain perfection.”
“So the black boots you wear in your FS…”
“They’re actually painted white boots. I refuse to wear covers because it makes my costume less authentic.”
“Amazing! Even the laces are painted?”
“Yep, everything painted. Including the laces.”
“This is the first time I see a female skater doing this.”
“Wow, I feel so special!” Roni blushes again.
“Yes, and that makes you so brave and unique. Any words for us?”
“Yeah! Look forward to my tomorrow’s FS! It’s gonna be so awesome!”
I’m Australian and we don’t really mix breakfast with desserts…
Also you’re welcome!