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Review of rag bag  Open in new Window.
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.5)
Hi Cappucine,

I love it! Partly it really spoke to me because I have also been cleaning out my closet in preparation for a move. I'm a very sentimental person, so those old things people gave me that I never wore, I always want to keep them, because they were gifts. I have moved, no exaggeration, approximately thirty times in my life, and I still have my Van Halen concert t-shirt from 1984. So every time I purge for a move, I find it painful but exhilarating, and I think you've captured those feelings in this poem. It also reminds me of "Warning" by Jenny Joseph, which my grandmother used to quote.

I do have a couple of things I wanted to point out:

I don't know why there's a line break between "anklefreeze" and "jeans." Sometimes poets use a line break to draw attention to a specific word or idea, but I'm not sure why you would select "anklefreeze jeans" to stand out above all the other clothing items you've mentioned.

I love the line "a tutu or two". However, a bit later the tutus go into the rag bag, and in my experience a rag bag contains the old t-shirts we use for dusting and cleaning. I don't think tutus would be very useful for dusting or cleaning, so I'd rearrange these lines. Maybe I'd be more comfortable with the hello kitty t-shirt going into the rag bag. I know you mentioned earlier that it's a bag for a rag man, whom I assume is a rubbish collector; we also put our bags of clothes out for the rubbish collectors, so I can relate to this image. But the image of tutus in a rag bag seems wrong to me.

That's all. Thanks for sharing your awesome poem, and write on!
Katt


*Gold* My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Get CASH!Open in new Window..
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Review of Lay it straight  Open in new Window.
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.0)
Form:
Freestyle poetry. There is some rhyming and rhythm which gives the poem a "rap" feel. There is some deviation from poetic standards, such as some lines begin with a capital and some do not. In fact, the poet follows capitalization rules for prose rather than poetry. This gives the effect that it is somewhere between a poem and a monologue.

Style:
Use of first person POV speaks directly to the reader. Other persuasive methods used: triples, repetition, use of pronouns "I" and "you" make the poem's purpose to persuade effective. Rhyme and near rhyme and quick pace, rhythm, and creative spelling "dialect" words give the poem a lyrical feel, which adds to its "rappiness." I can imagine this would appeal to students.

Theme:
individuality, autonomy, idealism
The poet seems to want to persuade the reader to be an individual. "You're the only one can be in charge" seems to say to the reader that he/she is in charge of his/her own decisions, actions, and future.

Central Idea:
Anyone can make a difference through words, without breaking rules. Words are power.
I think this poem is suitable for a middle-grades English class.

Enjoyable; thanks for sharing and write on!
Katt



*Gold* My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Get CASH!Open in new Window..
3
3
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.0)
Form: freestyle poem
The consistency of line lengths and use of ellipses creates a slow and steady pace and and sombre atmosphere, which juxtaposes with the simplistic, somewhat childlike subject matter and style.

Themes: aging; losing power
words like "used-to-be's" and "already gone" and the repetition of the first and last line "a mighty lion was I" create a theme of loss. "Soon I'll be set free" could be a metaphor for impending death.

Central Idea: As time passes, one loses power
This makes me think the theme is aging. The images like "mane" "roar" and "powerful paws" could be metaphors for the idealism and energy of youth. "Twisted mess" "scratch" and "shadows" make the reader imagine that the subject of the poem is now only a faded, powerless nobody. Maybe it is the thoughts of an elderly man or woman alone in a retirement home, with someone looking after his/her needs because he/she is too feeble to do anything for him/herself, and he/she reminisces about the past and the things he/she has done, like fought in war, managed a company, raised a family... all things that require strength and leadership powers.

Style:
simple, clear, metaphoric. This poem does not require a lot of background knowledge or 'reading between the lines'. It is suitable for a thematic anthology for young people. The language is straight-forward. Clean and tidy; there are no noticeable errors in spelling, grammar, or punctuation.

Overall, an enjoyable read. Thanks for sharing, and write on!

Katt


*Gold* My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Get CASH!Open in new Window..
4
4
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ | N/A (Review only item.)
 
FOLDER
The Decoherence of Kevin Open in new Window. (18+)
The mystery of his lover's death haunts Kevin. He must learn the truth at all costs.
#1878019 by Max Griffin 🏳️‍🌈 Author IconMail Icon


Plot:
I have read the first two chapters before reviewing this one, so I would know what was going on. In this chapter, Kevin wakes up in hospital, but is not able to find out whether Khalid survived his gunshot wound. An element of the supernatural is introduced with a visit from a strange elderly figure clad in black.

Style & Voice:
Very vivid and immediate. Moves along at a quick pace, keeping the reader turning virtual pages. I find the use of dialect at first useful in building characters, but eventually becoming a little bit distracting/annoying. Since you write with a lot of dialogue, I’d recommend reducing the dialect to a few instances here and there just to remind the reader of the particular character’s accent, background, or what-have-you, without it being too distracting. That also goes for Kevin’s slurred speech as he comes to in the hospital - it was initially amusing but started to border on slapstick, which I don’t think is the effect you’re going for, or redundant.

Referencing:
I like your use of the slang word “A-rab” I think without going too much overboard you’ve established cultural ignorance / insensitivities among your characters. I’ve lived in the Middle East for almost five years, though, and I have yet to meet an Arab who is known for his/her punctuality. Just an aside. Maybe later in the book I’ll find out that Khalid was raised in Britain?

Scene/Setting:
It does seem that characters appear and disappear in the hospital room. Is Kevin in a private room in the hospital, or shared, and is there a curtain around his bed? Are there any hospital noises of note?

Characters:
Kevin and Elmira are well portrayed, but I don’t get much sense of the male nurse. Maybe he isn’t that important. I’d still like to see him a bit more through Kevin’s eyes, as that will help develop Kevin’s character as much as it will the nurse’s.

Grammar:
No grammatical errors, but a couple of spelling oversights, wrong word errors, and awkward wordings, mentioned in the line-by-line in lovely violet.

Just My Personal Opinion:
I like reading the novel so far. Like I said above, it moves along nicely. I like the switching POV. Reading / reviewing your work is helping me hone my own skills  I do feel bad that a heroic young man like Khalid had to die, but it’s all in the name of literature, isn’t it?

Since I prefer to correct my students’ work in purple or pink (sometimes green), I’ve chosen WDC’s “violet” for my line edits on your chapter below:

Line edits:

Kevin woke to the murmur of voices. His head ached, and when he winced, something stiff clenched the right side of his face. He blinked his eyes open to a darkened room. He raised fingers to his cheek, and they met a bandage and numbness. The door to the room stood ajar, and dim light from a hallway leaked around the edges. The too-stiff mattress pushed against his body in unfamiliar ways. Open blinds filtered moonbeams through the windows, and light alternated with shadow across the sheets. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness and nausea flooded through him and pulled him back to the sheets. repetition of “sheet” - try “bedding” in the first instance.

Rails. The bed had rails. He must be in a hospital. An IV dragged at his arm.

Memories seeped back into his mind, murky as if seen through a fog. The mall. The cineplex. A screaming mob. A heavyset woman named Elmira. How did he know her name? Khalid was there too...he had a gun! Prickles raced down Kevin's arms and out his fingertips.

"No!" The word rasped against his throat.

A sound rustled nearby, and a woman's face loomed over his head. "Are you awake now, sweetie?" Concern pooled in her eyes.

Kevin caught a whiff of magnolia and honey that reminded him of his mother. But this woman's voice was soft and caring, nothing at all like his mother's.

She reached out with a gentle hand and stroked his brow. "You're gonna to be all right. Your noggin took a thumpin'. You're in the hospital. The docs, they say you're gonna be fine. You just need to rest."

"Elmira?" he croaked. He recognized her plump features and the twang of her voice. He even knew her name. But how? They had met, but he couldn't recall when. Memory needled at him but wouldn't penetrate his awareness.

"That's my name, sweetie. You remembered. That's good. I told you I'd stay with you, and I did. They wanted to send me away, but I wouldn't let them." She leaned down and her lips caressed his forehead. "You poor thing. I prayed for you and Jesus answered, praise the Lord."

"Khalid. Where'sh...where's Khalid? He was late." Lead weighed down his tongue and talking scraped his throat raw, as if he'd gargled razor blades. The dull ache in his head throbbed again, and his thoughts slogged through his muddied awareness. There was something he needed to remember...something important...

"Don't you worry your head, none, sweetie. You just work on gettin' yourself better, you hear?"

He lay back and closed his eyes. "We were at the mall." The mall. That's where he met Elmira. She held him in her arms after...what? His eyes snapped open. "He was shot! In the head!" An impossible image of Khalid, twisted on the floor in a puddle of dark, thick blood flashed into his memory and snatched his breath away. He clasped her hand. "How is he?" He remembered that congresswoman in Arizona who got shot in the head and survived. Hope surged. "Ish...is he all right? Did they get to him in time?" They had to get to him in time.

"I don't know nothin' 'bout that, hon. Won't do you no good frettin' now, no how."

Footfalls whispered and another voice, a masculine voice, spoke in hushed tones. "How's our patient?"

Elmira's stage whisper did nothing to hide her answer from Kevin. "He just woke up. He remembered my name without me askin'. He wants to know about that Ay-rab guy at the mall." In the first two chapters you spelled it “A-rab” which I would pronounce the same way. Is there a reason for the change? Personally, I prefer the Camus spelling.

The man ignored Elmira. "Good to see you're awake, Kevin." He wore scrubs, and a stethoscope hung about his neck. In the dark, Kevin couldn't read his nametag. The man must be a doctor, or maybe a nurse given that it was dark outside and must be after hours. I find this sentence awkward. Try “The man appeared to be a doctor, though he may have been a nurse, as it was dark outside and ...” He clasped Kevin's wrist. "Can you hear me?"

Kevin nodded. "Do you know how Khalid ish...is?" He concentrated on controlling his wayward tongue. "He was shot at the mall. Is he all right?"

"Sorry, no, I don't. Maybe he's in on another floor. Kevin, my name is Monroe. I'm the night nurse for this floor. How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts." His tongue was stiff as an old shoe and about the same size. "I feel loophy...loopy. Shtupid."

Monroe's matter-of-fact tone reassured him. "The Ativan will can do that. Do you remember what day it is?"

"Friday? We were going to the movie on Friday." He licked chapped lips.

"Good. It's still Friday, almost midnight. I need to look in your eyes next. It's going to be bright. Just stare straight ahead, okay?" He peeled back Kevin's right eyelid and a brilliant light dazzled. A moment later he did the same with the left eye. "That's good. You're pupils are normal." He pointed the light down at the sheets. "Follow the beam."

Kevin blinked against little circles of blindness while he followed the moving circle of light.

The nurse nodded. "Good." He made a note on a clipboard. "How's your head feel?"

"It aches. The right side of my face is numb."

"We gave you some Lidocaine earlier, and we've had an icepack on it to help reduce the swelling. You've got a couple of stitches on your cheek. Nothing major. At your age, you'll heal up without any scars and be as handsome as ever. Give it a few months and the girls will be chasing after you like nothing ever happened."

Kevin frowned. "I'm gay. Khalid'sh my boyfriend."

The nurse nodded. "Well, then, you'll still be as good-looking to him as before. Can you sit up for me?"

"Maybe. Thought I was gonna throw up earlier."

"It's normal to be nauseous. Don't worry; we'll take care of it if you do." He slipped an arm underneath Kevin and levered him to a sitting position on the edge of bed. "Just relax. I want to check your reflexes." He tapped at Kevin's knees, and again at his ankles. "All, right. That's all good, too. Did you have anything to eat or drink before you hit your head?"

"No. I was going to buy bobcorn...popcorn, but Khalid wasn't there yet."

"No alcohol?"

Kevin shook his head.

He tapped on Kevin's chart with his pen. "I see Dr. de la Cruz consulted earlier tonight and consulted with Dr. Brouwer. How's your tummy now? Still nauseaus?" spelling? My spell-checker prefers nauseous or nauseas.

A touch of vertigo made the room spin and Kevin had to replay the nurse's words. "De la Cruz? What wash...was he doing here?"

"You might not remember. The notes say you gave them quite a time in the ER, so Dr. Brouwer prescribed Ativan and Midazolam, which can cause short-term amnesia. Nothing to worry about."

Amnesia. He didn't want to forget, but when he tried to speak a fit of coughing convulsed his throat.

"Let me get you some water." Monroe filled a cup from the pitcher on the nightstand, and Kevin sucked from the straw. "Not too fast, and not too much. That's a good fellow."

Kevin licked his lips. "Thanks." He frowned and cleared phlegm from his throat. "I need to find out about Khalid. I need to know he'sh...he's all right." That horrible memory of Khalid in a pool of blood foamed do you mean formed? in his memory again. Somehow, though, the image was distant, as if seen by looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Khalid must be okay; otherwise they'd tell him, right?

The nurse inspected his IV. "You're worried about him, aren't you?"

Kevin nodded and the room swirled.

"Tell you what. It's late, and everything's closed down for the night. You won't be able to find anything out until morning. I'll give you something remove “something” another Ativan which will help you relax. Maybe you'll even go back to sleep. The doctor's rounds are early tomorrow, before ten. She might discharge you tomorrow. In any case, there will be people who can help you track down your friend."

The ache throbbed again deep inside Kevin's skull and he rubbed his brow.

"Does your head still hurt?" The nurse flipped through his chart. "The doctor left orders for Ibuprofen, too, if you need it. Would you like some?"

"Yes, pleash...please. Thank you."

"The Ativan should help you relax, too." The nurse bustled away and Elmira followed him into the hallway.

A shadowy figure joined them and more stage whispers ensued, but this time Kevin could only pick up bits and pieces of indistinct voice. Miyamoto. De la Cruz. Kayla. Kayla was the Aunt he'd listed as next-of-kin with the University. He hoped she wouldn't show up; he didn't want her praying for Jesus to make him straight. He was sure his parents wouldn't come. Dr. de la Cruz ran the Quantum Brain Institute where Kevin worked, but they must be talking about someone else.

Kevin's thoughts slogged through a mind turned muddy, and he couldn't concentrate. He played nurse's words in his head. He'd heard of Ativan, but what was the other drug? Midal? That couldn't be right. Still, it sounded familiar, like he'd heard of it someplace before.

A name whispered in the hallway percolated through his hazy thoughts. Miyamoto. Who, or what, was Miyamoto?

Kevin jerked his head to the right as feet shuffled next to his bed. Pain clenched his brain from the movement and he winced. An elderly, stooped man coalesced from the darkness. He wore black: black pants, black shirt, and a black suit coat. Wisps of white hair flickered about his head and glowed in the moonlight. He leaned forward and spoke in a fragile whisper. "Kevin. You're so young. I'd forgotten."

Kevin nodded. For a moment Kevin thought his Uncle Roy had come to visit, but he'd passed four years ago. "Do I know you?"

A smile wrinkled the man's features. "You might say that."

Kevin was too tired for guessing games. He closed his eyes. He opened them again when a hand clasped his.

The man spoke again, his voice still delcate. delicate. "Rest, lad. Things are going to be hard for a while, but they'll get better. Trust me." He squeezed Kevin's hand with fingers brittle as sticks and skin stiff as parchment.

Kevin struggled to sit up. "Who the fuck are you?"

Silence.

"Where'd you go?" Kevin pushed against the too-hard mattress, wobbled to his feet and gripped the IV stand for support.

The nurse's sharp voice answered. "I went to get your meds, of course. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Where did the guy in black go?" Kevin's head swam and he relaxed as the nurse helped him back into the bed.

"No one's been in here, Kevin. Just me." He tucked the covers and fussed with Kevin's IV. "Don't worry. It's normal to be confused after a concussion. Some people even see things and hear voices." He held out a cup with two pills and a glass of water. "Here. These will help you rest."

He watched while Kevin gulped them down and then clipped the call button to the pillow. "You sleep now. If you need anything, just push this button." He bustled out, leaving Kevin alone.

Elimira slipped in after the nurse left, and Kevin turned to face her. "Thank you for helping me. I remember now you holding me in the mall. Did your hushband...husband call 911? Thank him for me, too, will you?"

She lowered her eyes and shuffled her feet. "It's the least I could do. Floyd, that's my husband. I swear, he's like a pig in a china shop sometimes, bless his heart. Anyways, him and you got all tangled up when them shots was fired, and that's how you fell and hurt yourself. He's all broke up about it." She snuffled and ran a finger under nose. "'Sides, it's the Christian thing to do to sit with someone what's in need."

Weariness flooded through Kevin, and he strugged struggled. with leaden eyelids. "Not his fault. Thingsh..things happen." His tongue was too big for his mouth and his words mushed together. "There were gunshots, right?"

She still wouldn't look at him. "So they say." Her gaze roamed the room, and then finally landed on Kevin's forehead. "That nurse fella said you was gonna sleep from them pills what he give ya. Would you mind if I went home, afterwards? I'll sit 'til you're sleepin', and I'll be here in the mornin'. I promise."

"Sure. Need to sleep. Both of us." Sleep. That's what he needed. Sleep that cures all ills.

"Well, you sure? If they send you home tomorrow, you'll be needin' somebody to help you. I'll be back, I will." She hesitated, then leaned over and again kissed his forehead, the way his mother did when he was little. "You're like a little lost lamb, sweetie. It's a blessin', takin' care of them what's in need."

"You're an angel." He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

"'Night, sweetie. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

He forced a murmured word from slack lips. "Night."

She squeezed his hand and he watched through slitted eyes while she backed away and faded into the shadows.

Kevin closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world. The image of Khalid, broken and bloody, kept playing through his mind. He knew it should bother him, terrify him. But instead, it was like a scene from a movie he'd watched years ago, not a nightmare that just happened. What did happen at the mall? Why wouldn't anyone tell him anything? Where was Khalid?

Words meandered in his brain, chaotic and arrhythmic. Antipsychotic. Anxiolytic. Anti-anxiety. Anterograde amnesia. He pictured the gleaming, white hallways of the Quantum Brain Institute. The words echoed down the corridors in brilliant red: psychedelic, hallucinatory...an auditory and visual concatenation of images reflected in light and sound, bouncing off sterile walls. Endless copies of Khalid's smiling face shimmered there, too, vibrating, resonating with the sounds, receding to infinity. The old man hovered there, too, his face familiar yet strange at the same time.

Kevin floated in the semi-conscious twilight between wakefulness and slumber. The strange bed, the astringent odors of the hospital, the murmur of voices down the hall: all of these blended with the disorder of incipient dreams. Hypnagogia. That was what they called it at the Institute: the transition between awareness and sleep, when neural quantum cycles swarmed in acyclic decoherence. The words echoed in purple eddies through the corridors of his mind, swirling to oblivion.

Lips touched Kevin's mouth and breath warmed his cheek. He twitched but didn't wake. Khalid's voice whispered, "I'm still with you, my love. We're entangled in space and time, you and I."

A smile bent Kevin's lips as he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Go NoticedOpen in new Window..
5
5
Review of Crashed Witches  Open in new Window.
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ | (5.0)

*Smile* Hi, my name is Katt. I enjoyed reading your story and wanted to share some thoughts with you about it.
__________

As always, these are just one person's opinions. Only you know what is best for your story! I've read and commented on your work as I would try to read my own. I hope you find something here useful *Smile*, and that you will discard the rest with good cheer. *Heart* My reviews always have suggestions for improvement. Please know that they are offered in the spirit of making this fine piece even better.*Smile*

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*Check2*Plot
Explains the background of the witch-smashing-into-pole symbol, and warns others against drinking and flying.
__________
*Check2*Style and Voice
Second-person POV, used for instruction or giving advice. Written in an entertaining, casual style, making the piece fun to read.
__________
*Check2*Referencing
I'm not a magic-nut myself, so I'm not sure if your referencing checks out, but in the fantasy genre you're always going to have the odd Harry Potter fan or Bewitched fan going "That's not true!" so in fantasy especially, I think it's ok to stretch the boundaries anyway.
__________
*Check2*Scene/Setting
Not very descriptive. I would like to have more here, even if it is through adjectives or literary devices to add some sense of where and when the story took place.
__________
*Check2*Characters
As for setting, I don't really have any image of Eliza, and even less of the narrator. I had the sense that the narrator was an omniscient entity till it turned out he/she was bedding down some guy towards the end of the story. I think the story would be even better if the reader was given a bit of a mental image of these two characters, again through a few descriptive passages or literary tools. Was Eliza old? young? short or tall? slim, fit, fat, plump? pretty, or face like a warthog? etc.

*Exclaim* Dialog.*Exclaim* This is a great way to move the plot forward and to add depth to characters.
You haven't used any dialog. That may be because you are following a word limit, or because of the detached nature of the narrative. Maybe you would like to consider adding a short passage of dialog to help develop Eliza's character.

__________
*Check2*Punctuation

I've noticed that you like the dash a lot. It's nice to get away from the typical punctuation (period and comma) but you might want to make sure you're using your dash correctly -- just a minor detail, but a dash should have a space before and after. In standard manuscript format (if you want to send your writing to publishers or magazine editors) you should type two hyphens without spaces, and turn off your word processor's automatic dash-maker. That is so the typesetter can easily distinguish between dashes and hyphens.

__________
*Check2*Just my personal opinion
This is a fun story that could be told in a more vivid way, with more use of imagery to give readers a setting and characters.


/////////////////////

__________

I only review things I like, and I really liked this story. I'm a teacher by day, and find awarding grades the least satisfying part of my job. *Frown* Since I'm sure you worked hard on your story and deserve top marks for that, I have recently decided to give a rating of "5" to everything I review, thus avoiding the necessity of "grading" things on WDC. So please don't assign any weight to my "grade" -- but know that I selected this story for review because I liked it and thought I could learn from studying it. *Smile*


*Exclaim* Again, these are just one person's opinions. Only you know what is best for your story! The surest path to success is to keep writing and to be true to your muse! *Exclaim*

Thanks for sharing this item! I only review things that I enjoy reading and I truly did enjoy this piece. Please keep on writing more things just like this!!!

Katt
(pen name K. I. Borrowman)
My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Go NoticedOpen in new Window..
6
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Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (5.0)
Thanks for the extremely helpful advice! I've written hundreds of queries over the past several years, and even though of course I've read other articles full of advice for how to write them, you have included some excellent pointers in here and some very valuable information that I didn't know before. It never occurred to me, for example, to do the "encl" thingy at the bottom! I remember learning to do it in typing class in high school, but have never thought to add it to a query letter.

Only one comment: I'm a writer and teacher currently living in the Middle East. There are two things I can't get here: IRCs (international Reply Coupons) and USPS to send me US postage stamps (they only ship in the US). Luckily for me, my mom is a philatelist and works in a stamp shop, so she can send me US stamps whenever I need them. But I had the same problem when I lived in Canada: Canada Post doesn't even sell IRCs anymore. What is the nomadic writer to do? Any suggestions?

Thanks again for your help; very useful. I'm saving a copy in my computer for future reference :)
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Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (3.5)
This is lovely! I was once a security guard :) It was when I was very young, before I went back to university. My only criticism of your work is that I would like there to be more of it! Tell me more, more! I get the impression from this that there is so much going on that you're keeping from me and I want to know what it is! I mean, I think the idea you're trying to get across is that your job is not very exciting and that nothing much seems to be happening, but regardless, the impression I have now is that you're in the same place every night, all night, all year long. There must be so many little details that you're not telling me and you have a nice, enjoyable style so I personally could read on and on about these nights that to you must seem dull and monotonous, but in your poem you are able to illustrate them in a vivid, enjoyable way. Try for two or three stanzas for each season and let me know if you do so; I beg you. I will happily read it again. P.S. I teach literature.
My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Go NoticedOpen in new Window..
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Review of Illegal  Open in new Window.
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (3.5)
I like the concept and the execution, in terms of structure, but the style is too much for me. This piece reads like a mine shaft, and by that I mean that there are some shiny gem-stones in here but they are obscured by a little too much writer. I would say you need to take out about half of the adjectives for starters. Secondly, look at the dialogue and try to make it more realistic. Finally, dependent clauses need to be separated by commas. More liberal use of punctuation would slow down the pace and add clarity in a few areas. Eg: "she said smiling condescendingly" needs a comma after 'said'.
I can see that you have a clever, thoughtful mind and a very literary style, but it seems to be too bunched together which makes this piece a bit overwhelming. My advice would be to take it easy and spread it out a bit.
For example, these lines:
The lights in the house at no. 24 are never on. Some candles seem to glow from time to time on the kitchen windowpane.
are lovely and descriptive; they give just enough information for the reader to be able to form a mental image. The next line, however, bogged me down a bit:
The house itself doesn't inspire much light either, with its grey walls, utterly black roof and doors, and reddish front-door stairs.
Maybe by leaving out some of the details, and leaving more to the reader's imagination, we could create less confusion and thereby a more clear image:
Gray with black trim, the house itself blends into the night. (for example)
Overall, I like your ideas, and I hope you will keep writing. Thanks for sharing!
My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Go NoticedOpen in new Window..
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Review of Love Close Up  Open in new Window.
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.0)
Well, maybe Mr. (or Mrs.) "not a fan" has just been through a difficult break-up that involved name-calling and throwing table-ware. But I think the real issue here is that your love-poem is too personal. I mean, it appears to be a personal expression some kind of epiphany you had when you recently reailsed how much you loved someone, and just had to get those feelings down on paper. That's nice for you,and anyone else who is currently experiencing the same feelings, so it might be good for Hallmark. But if you want to write poetry for the masses, it is a good rule of thumb to "show, not tell". Try to re-write this with some imagery, some snapshots into the narrator's life, the person being loved; show your reader what it is that makes you feel this way, so the reader can share your feelings, not just read about them.
Of course it is worth more than 1.5, and phooey on the bitter 'not a fan.' He (or she) is a sad, cold little man (or woman). Thank you for sharing this, and keep writing!
My review has been submitted for consideration in "Good Deeds Go NoticedOpen in new Window..
10
10
Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (5.0)
First of all, I personally don't like present tense. It seems childish, probably because it reminds us of Dick and Jane. Additionally, I think it's really tricky to pull it off effectively, like Collins did in The Hunger Games. I'm not the only one who feels that way; in fact, I recently had a twelve-year-old student come up to me in the school hallway (I'm an English teacher) and ask me why the Hunger Games novels were written in present tense. We discussed it and came to the conclusion that the author maybe did it to make the story seem more immediate, more intense, and put the reader right there in the action.

As for POV, I have heard, though I'm not sure that I agree, that it is more difficult to pull off first person convincingly. I'm quite certain that it would be more difficult to pull off multi-character first person convincingly. Keep in mind that you will have to know each character as well as you know yourself. That is, each character's favourites, fears, likes, dislikes, memories, no matter how inconsequential, mothers' maiden names, the way their first pets' fur felt, the way each character feels when he/she hears the sound of water dropping onto stone and why, smells wet earth after a storm has passed and why, what makes each one smile and why, what makes each one want to go back to bed, what each one wanted for his/her sixteenth birthday, all these little details for each first-person character.

Personally, I think it will be a major undertaking to be able to convince your readers that you are these (how many) people, and at the same time present and develop this fantastical world to readers, about which they know absolutely nothing. I think you already have your work (as an author) cut out for you in developing the setting, context, background, history, etc, and you would be making your job that much more difficult by working in first person, especially multiple first persons.

So that is why I say, "Past tense, third-person omniscient narrator, I choose you!"

Hope this helps.

-Katt

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Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: ASR | (5.0)
LOVE IT! The times, they are a'changin', eh? Very clever the way you have manipulated the meanings and the rhymes / rhythms to fit for a cohesive whole. I think you should take your talent beyond parodying and into actually writing lyrics for songs. Well, if you are not already doing that, I mean. I like the way you alluded to cultural points without spelling them out. I did notice one typo - fourth stanza, seventh line, I think 'though' should read 'thought.'
Keep writing, very enjoyable!
-Katt
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Review by katt Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E | (4.5)
It's very touching and I like the way the story is revealed bit by bit. There are a few bits that do need attention:
1. eyes the color of cinnamon stirred into milk, filled with the essence of life; the world around her seemed so vapid and listless, as if all the energy and excitement in the air had been transmodulated into a new form and given a new home, as her eyes. => this whole passage is confusing, and plus i don't like the image of eyes that have anything to do with milk. I think it is the opposite of what you're trying to portray about her.
2. humble abode => a bit cliche for such a serious piece
3. megawatt smile => also cliche
4. “It was my own fault I saw the gangsters in the next class trading drugs.” => I would flip these two sentences around to improve the flow to the next sentence.
5. It was confusing because at first i thought the protagonist was a husband, and in the end I was not sure if the protagonist became a dancer or not. So maybe the character could be made more clear throughout, not necessarily revealed but through character development, voice, something like that.
Overall, I do think you have a winner here and I agree that with a little editing, it will be an excellent story, though sad :(
Keep writing, and thanks for sharing this tear-jerker!
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