Young Writers Society

My throat was dry and I was terrified. Joining hands with me in a full circle was the rest of our team, the theater team, a.k.a Junior Thespians. Although we were outside in the frosty December air, the space was filled with the warmth I had always felt when with my troop. After performing our spectacular one-act (45 minutes long and performed for 3 judges) and receiving excellent critiques the day before, we were all anticipating the IE portion of the competition. IE’s are individual events, and within that category are a multitude of performance options, including monologues, duet scenes, solos, and many other types of performances. That particular year followed an incredible year for me, as the previous year, my sixth grade year, my friend and I had achieved a superior (that’s the best you can get!) at both district and state Junior Thespian competitions. Exactly one year prior to that day, we had stood in the same circle that the whole team now stood in, on the exact same campus. We were at Bak, a performing arts school. This time though, I was alone. I was performing a monologue, which is just you, performing a piece of theater by yourself, without anybody else. There were butterflies, no, there were rocket-ships taking off inside my stomach, whirling around and spinning and crashing and exploding! And in addition to being one of the most difficult events to pull off, our troupe’s monologues just happened to be up first. And I was third.
After wrapping up the last of our warm ups and completing a successful team huddle, our troupe marched out of the chilling air and into the toasty building. Immediately all of the shivering shoulders relaxed… except for the shoulders of us who would be performing in a matter of minutes. It was so quiet, you could hear the small buzz of a little fly across the room. Lining the hallways were turquoise doors, guarded by volunteers of all ages in bright green shirts. I’m ready, I thought, rubbing my hands together and embracing the new-found warmth. Troupe 8---8 (that’s us!) traveled steadily down the hall, looking for Monologue Room 2. We found it in a short while. At this point, tens of thousands of rocket ships were storming around in my stomach, forcing me to shut my eyes and breathe in, begging the rocket ships to land themselves safely whereever they’d come from. The door opened as the previous monologue performance victim exited. Their own troupe surrounded them with hugs and words of encouragement, and we filed in. Silently, without a word, we found seats, mine on the floor in front of my friends and beside some others. Suddenly, my heart must’ve thought it had entered a race, because reality had struck and it was thudding against my chest wildly! Watching the few monologues before my turn didn’t help. Especially the best ones. The actor’s enchanting performances scared me to death, with their realistic tears and comedic genius. Finally, my name was called. “A----- P---, Troupe 8---8.”
I forced my legs to stretch out and found myself practically dragging my feet behind me. Even my body knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. I stood in front of the three intimidating judges, well aware of my hammering heart, ready to burst if I didn’t take a breath! Breathing in, and out, and in, and out… You can do it! my brain tried to scream to my mouth. I was afraid that when I tried to speak, nothing would come out. But that wasn’t the case. “Good morning, my name is A----- P---, and I will be performing a monologue entitled I Didn't Mean It. And I proudly represent…” I moved to where I would begin my scene, and breathed deeply. As I let my breath go, the rocket-ships, with my quivering voice and shaking body as their passenger, all flew out with it. “Troupe 8---8.” And then, I performed. What happened throughout is unclear in my mind, just blurred events I barely remember. I didn’t mess up though, I performed exactly how I’d practiced it. Sitting down, I felt a wave of relief, as friends took my hands and hugged me. My heart began to pump slower, acknowledging the torture’s end. I know for many people, it’s just another monologue for them to watch, a cute little performance. However, for me, it was much more than that.

Your writing is pretty good. It's thoughtful, developed, and paced. You give us insight into the narrator at appropriate points.

One major point: Do away with extraneous wording.
The worst offender is this one:

Silently, without a word, we found seats,

"Silent" and "without a word" basically mean the same thing. Yes, you could stomp your feet without a word, but the understood meaning is often the same. Look for places where you've overdescribed something. Maybe you don't need every word in "small buzz of a little fly" because a lot of this is already understood.

Or this one:

the previous year, my sixth grade year, my friend and I

Does it matter that it was your sixth grade year last year? We already understand that the narrator is young and in school. Does your interjecting the sixth grade part illustrate your point better? Not really. It's throwaway information and it just interrupts the pace and bogs down your writing.
Look for other things like that. Places where you're giving us information just for the sake of information, and not anything that develops your story, your characters, or your mood. Particularly throwaway information in parentheses or appositives.

Also, in your first paragraph, look again at the way you've given us the exposition. It's extremely matter-of-fact and conversational. Maybe this is your style. But if you're going to be conversational at one point, you risk a difficult segue into being introspective at another.

And continuity issue:

our troupe’s monologues just happened to be up first.

the previous monologue performance victim exited. Their own troupe surrounded them

Your troupe was first, but there was another troupe before them?

So, all in all, the writing is good. But the story is "ehhh." A day in the everyday life, kind of thing. Not stellar, not particularly riveting. It feels more like an essay prompt than a story. And this becomes more apparent with the very essay-like, boring title. It's written with a clear, confident voice, but maybe you should be applying that clear, confident voice to a slightly more gripping storyline.

First impression: those are some rather massive paragraphs. Can you break them up a little? It would make it easier to read. The general rule of thumb for paragraphing is that every time you move to a different topic or a new person speaks, you start a new paragraph.

Now, once I started reading, I noticed that you tended to jump a bit between your ideas, hopping back and forth sometimes. For example:

IE’s are individual events, and within that category are a multitude of performance options, including monologues, duet scenes, solos, and many other types of performances. That particular year followed an incredible year for me, as the previous year, my sixth grade year, my friend and I had achieved a superior (that’s the best you can get!) at both district and state Junior Thespian competitions. Exactly one year prior to that day, we had stood in the same circle that the whole team now stood in, on the exact same campus.

You jump from describing IEs to the previous year, and then back to the current one. This idea-hopping is further exacerbated by the excessive wordage, which sarg already pointed out; the excessive (and sometimes redundant) wordings wind up more confusing than anything, and it really bogs down your writing.

Try condensing your prose before you add embellishments, and try and avoid redundancies as much as possible. It will make your prose more accessible and easier to read, which in turn means that readers will be more likely to read the entire piece through.

Overall, this was a cute story. Nothing particularly spectacular, but a cute story, nonetheless. It would have been better if a bit more care had gone into the formatting, especially paragraphing, and if the prose were a bit less redundant/indirect in its phrasing.