Young Writers Society

This has been edited. I mainly used Icaruss's critique, and I ended up taking out the girl's death scene. So, two questions for all of you:

1) I want the reason for the girl to leave to be vague, but do you get that she leaves/dies?

2) A lot of people have been telling me that I ramble in perfectly good sentences, and I'm seeing that. The only thing is, I'm bad at spotting it. While I'm learning to spot my own rambles, can you guys point them out to me? Just so I can see more of what you mean.

This is for ambercoultis's A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words contest.

The picture I chose to work with is at the end. Please don't look 'til the end - I want you to picture what I describe, not the picture. I just was required to add it for the rules.

Out of Focus

I picked a great day to end it. Dark and dreadful, the clouds hang low in the sky. The sun can't break through, and fog hides the dock, hugs the water.

My polished black shoes are speckled with gritty sand. It's nearly solid from the rain – it feels like clay. Like the clay I dragged her onto.

No. I won't think of her. Not now.

Behind me lie the sole blemishes on the beach – a straight line of my shoe prints. They draw attention to themselves, but there's no one around to pay any attention to them.

The beach is empty today.

-----

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She just smiled, throwing her arms above her head and spinning. Her yellow curls – golden beneath the afternoon sun – lifted off her shoulders, twirling along with her, beckoning me to come too.

"Dancing!" she said, her voice a music of its own.

"But there's no music," I argued. She laughed.

"You don't need music to dance, Mike!"

-----

This is a good place to do it. I'm so sick of the silence, but the ocean isn't quiet. It's an endless recording of noise: waves splashing against rocks, the dock, creating a foam cover; gulls crying out to each other, looking for food, killing, scavenging; the echo of my shoes as I walk down this endless dock.

-----

"You're crazy!" I told her as she swirled around, but I was laughing.

"It's fun; I promise!" She reached out to grab my wrist, pull me closer. Her hand is small, but her grip is tight on my wrist, and I come closer, breath in her scent.

"Fine. But if someone laughs at me…"

"Who's going to laugh? The trees?"

"You."

She came up right next to me, lifting her mouth to my ear. I drew in a sharp breath as her breath tickled my ear, bringing the smell of the trees and her hair in with the air. "I wouldn't laugh at you."

She drew back and pulled a little harder, her soft hand now clasped in mine, and I relented. I couldn't stand to be the one causing her to stand still when she was made to be in motion, even if there was no one but me around to see.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I asked her, a grin on my face. "Twirl?"

-----

I shove my hands deep into my pockets and walk onto the dock. I hadn't bothered stripping out of my Ralph Lauren suit earlier – it'll help weigh me down. But even with my shoes, I don't think I'm heavy enough. And I don't want to come back up.

Maybe I should have put rocks in my pockets. I heard of some author who did that once – it sent her straight to the bottom. That's what I need.

I look back over my shoulder, but I can't tell if the end of the dock's three or thirty or three hundred feet away through this fog. I try to tell myself that they wouldn't make a dock that long – that it's probably only a few steps – that if I turned around to get rocks, it wouldn't even take that long.

But I walk forward, convincing myself that my jacket is thick, made for autumn, and that my shoes are big and heavy.

If I had turned around, gone to get rocks, I don't think I would be able to make myself come back. And I want to do this. I have to do this.

-----

"You're supposed to dance!" She pulled me closer, grasped both of my hands in hers. Leaned back, pulled against me, left me to do the same. We twirled around, faster and faster, both of us relying on the other to defy the gravity that was crashing down on us.

"This isn't exactly dancing!" I yelled over the tornado we had created.

"Is it fun?"

She spun faster and faster, pulling me along with her. I gripped her hands tightly, using her weight to balance myself while she used mine. "I guess."

"Then it's dancing!" Her smile was huge, lighting up her pale face. She was all I could see. The rest of the world – the bridge, the trees, the slowly setting sun – they all flashed by too quickly. But she was the constant. She was right there, right in front of me.

-----

It's easier this way. I know it's not right, but it is easier.

I doubt this will feel good. Actually, it will probably feel like shit, having my lungs fill up with water, my clothes weigh me down, darkness everywhere.

But it can't be worse than not doing it.

-----

My hands became coated in sweat as we danced, and they started to slip through her grip. She smiled slyly at me and loosened her grip. Her fingers let go and left me to fly through the air alone. I landed on the ground with a thud, and when I looked up, I couldn't get my head to stop swimming long enough to focus on her.

But I heard her laughter – the music to her dance.

"I thought you said you wouldn't laugh at me," I accused.

"I'm not laughing at you," she replied, spinning and spinning, closer and closer to the water. She paused for a minute, leaned over, her hands on her knees, a big smile on her mouth. "I'm laughing with you!"

The way she said it, the way she looked, it made me laugh too. She was acting just like a little child, innocent and carefree and happy. The way I used to be. The way she made me again.

But my head was still spinning from our dance, and though I tried to focus on her smile, I couldn't. She became part of the background, just another tree that flashed by every once in a while.

-----

I'm standing here staring out at the ocean, big and menacing, just waiting to eat me up, and all I can think is how much bigger it is than me. I mean, it's bigger than everyone, but it just feels like I'm even smaller than everyone else in the world. Like nothing will happen when I jump in – that no water will even have to move to compensate for my body. Like there's not enough of my body to matter.

The ocean's hungry. The waves claw at me, splashing my legs, my arms, my face, desperately clinging to anything it can reach. Come, it's saying. Come with me – I'll keep you safe. I'll make you feel better. I'll take away all the pain.

And I believe it, because it's easier.

-----

"Are you going to get up?" she asked as she looked down at me. I shook my head, not wanting to be dragged into twirling around again, not after how dizzy the last dance made me.

"Fine. I'll dance by myself!" She swung her arms out again, her laughter flying up into the air, her body seeming to follow.

And I just sat there, watching her spin further and further away from me.

-----

The last thing I think of is her face with her beautiful smile flashing by, just like on the day it happened when my head was so dizzy I couldn't see anything; just another tree that flashed by every once in a while. There, but out of reach. Visible, but out of focus.

My chest squeezes as I look into the water. It's finally real. I'm not just thinking about it anymore – I'm going to jump. My eyes squeeze shut, and I count to myself. Just like jumping into a cold pool, only this time, I won't come back up.

One.

Two.

Three.
__________

Link to picture here.

Hmm... I have mixed feelings about this. All at once, I want to feel sad because you're taking your life away, right? But some of this fluff that just makes it pathetic (and not in the character but the writing itself):

I know I shouldn't do it. I know I'm being a stupid coward, taking the easy way out, but isn't that what everyone does? Run away from what hurts? Doing whatever brings the least amount of pain? It's just??it's easier this way, you know? I know it's not right, but it is easier.

I doubt this will feel good. Actually, it will probably feel like shit, having my lungs fill up with water, my clothes weigh me down, darkness everywhere.

But it can't be worse than not doing it.

This, I didn't like. Rhetorical questions taken a little too far, if you ask me.

However, getting nearer to the end of the story, I found I actually enjoyed it. This bit was bloody brilliant:

Then I jump, and pray that no one saves me this time.

Famous last words.

And kudos to the Virginia Woolf reference. :]

Good writing.
--Medusa.

I really like the beginning. "A great day to do this..." What a bizarrely optimisic thought to think about the situation. Makes me love it even more.

I also really like the mix between what the main character is doing now and the flash backs. It's a hard thing to do without there being any awkwardness, and you've done it beautifully.

I know I shouldn't do it. I know I'm being a stupid coward, taking the easy way out, but isn't that what everyone does? Run away from what hurts? Doing whatever brings the least amount of pain? It's just… it's easier this way, you know? I know it's not right, but it is easier.

I doubt this will feel good. Actually, it will probably feel like shit, having my lungs fill up with water, my clothes weigh me down, darkness everywhere.

But it can't be worse than not doing it.

I agree with Medusa here... I just don't quite like this. I think it's because he seemed somewhat serene the entire time, and then here he breaks out into "stupid coward" and the pitiful moroseness. I think you should mention how it will hurt and feel like shit, but ditch the rest of it. Or something... this threw everything off for me.

And I also don't understand why she hates him. She fell. He failed to save her. Not his fault, I mean, he was hurt too. I think there should be a better reason for this.

It's still beautifully written, and I enjoy the overall concept.

I like it, really it's actually very interesting and the title drew me in, great job. I think this will be fine for a contest :]]
wish I could be a bit more help

-Max

This was really good. I was able to get the picture before I reached it because it was kind of obvious (what else would have happend), but it was really interesting.

I found this bit:

Later on, the doctors filled me in on what happened.

She fell in, got caught up by the currents, hit her head on a rock.

very abrupt. There was no indication of what had happened before. I assumed that the grl had dumped him (which turned out to be right), but you gave no clues as to her falling into the water.

Another thing is, when the firefighter is in her house, I don't think he would have his uniform with him. Maybe I'm wrong, but it's just something that occured to me.

I don't know if there's any other entries to this contest yet, but this has a serious chance of winning, I reckon.

Hello JFW! I've just got one mistake to show you...

She ignored me, just threw her arms above her head and spun. Her yellow curls – golden under the afternoon sun – lifted off her shoulders, flying around her, spinning and spinning along with her, beckoning me to come, too.

It's daytime here, right? Well read this paragraph...

"Then it's dancing!" Her smile was huge, lighting up her pale face. She was all I could see. The rest of the world – the bridge, the trees, the moon – they all flashed by too quickly to be seen. But she's the constant. She's right there, right in front of me.

But it's nighttime here? Unless a long period of time has passed, which I doubt, you should fix that.


I liked this piece and it goes along with the picture quite well I think. But I must tell you that I was kind of disappointed when I found out the reason why he was jumping into the ocean. All because that dude who saved the girl is with with her now... it's just kind of... pathetic. I mean, move on, dude! I think it would be much much more tragic and understandable if this girl had died. But that's just me.

I love your style of writing. though. Very nice and detailed. I especially liked the part when he puts his hands in his pockets and you describe what's in there. I'm one to love all the little things. Hee hee.

Good luck!
Holly

I like it! When I read the entire thing and saw the picture at the end, the whole story sort of just flashed through my mind.

I second what bittersweet said too. I got confused on that part and had to take time to skim back in case I missed some important points.

I thought that the girl died in the end and that's why he's jumping in too. Although I don't have much objection on why he kills himself, I think it would be better if there was more than one reason.

The title is good, well, for me that is.

Good luck!

I like this story, how it's split up between the present and the past. And, I like the imagery. My mind didn't exactly put the picture together while I was reading, but you did an awesome job of describing it and blending it into the story.

One nitpick I do have is the rating, because of the F-word. I'm just weird like that...

Waves splashing against rocks, the dock, each other, creating a foam cover.

Gulls crying out to each other, looking for food, killing, scavenging.

I love this description of the ocean, I love the shore and you can really see the ocean through this.

I didn't bother stripping out of my suit, figuring it would help weigh me down.

I am slightly curious as to why he's wearing a suit...

But I walk forward, convincing myself that my jacket is thick, made for Autumn, and that my shoes are big and heavy.

I think that this part could use a bit of a connector to his worries before, although it does fit his disjointed thoughts. Maybe something like: 'They will weigh me down,' or 'I'll sink.'

But she's the constant. She's right there, right in front of me.

Looking back, I really do like this line. It's ironic.

Actually, it will probably feel like shit, having my lungs fill up with water, my clothes weigh me down, darkness everywhere.

I'm not sure if the way the underlined part is phrased really works with the rest of the sentence. It needs a connector word, for starters, like 'and,' to connect it to the list. Then, you go from 'having... fill up... weigh...' to just 'darkness everywhere.' It just seems like it needs some work.

She fell in, got caught up by the currents, hit her head on a rock.

This part is a bit confusing, how did she fall in? I mean, the last flashback she was laughing at him. This just seems a bit sudden.

I got some type of temporary amnesia when I hit my head. I couldn't even remember her for a few months.

I also find this part confusing, wouldn't the doctors have filled her in on his condition? Why didn't she go and find him? And why is she so upset with him, I mean, he did jump in after her?

The last thing I think of is her face with her beautiful smile flashing by, just like on the day it happened when my head was so dizzy I couldn't see anything, just another tree that flashed by every once in a while.

This sentence seems a bit long, and also might be missing some punctuation.

Then I jump, and pray that no one saves me this time.

I love this ending line, though, it's such a fitting ending. I do have to wonder why he chose to end his life over the one girl... But, I like this story, the variation between depression and lightness throughout the story really matches the photograph.

Good luck with the contest!

Edited.

The last flash-back needs a lot of help. Anyone willing to rip it to shreds?

Thanks for the reviews, guys!

~JFW1415

Out of Focus
I picked a great day to do this, I think as I step out of my car. The clouds hang low in the sky, painting the world like an old photo. The sun can't break through. The waves are harsh. [A good introduction but maybe lengthen that first sentence to give a greater contrast with the short, choppy sentences. And also, 'step' doesn't sound quite right. It's too light. You want to set a darker, heavier atmosphere. Maybe drop. You could have something like '...as I drop out of my car and into the damp, squelchy sand.' Also, I'd love to see you get the image of a vast beech marred only by a single trail of footsteps. Part of your problem is that you stick too closely to the one photo but I'd like to see this as a series of photographs. I'd like to see the empty beech with that one car and the line of footprints leading to this man. Footprints that will be covered, smothered by other people's as the day progresses and then eventually washed away with the tide. That's the atmosphere you want to create: a man alone with his past.]
The weather finally matches my mood. I know it's cliché – 'the sky was raining for me,' 'the sun broke through right when I saw him,' yada yada ya. But I guess sometimes it's true.
The sky's empty today, just like me. [I like this sentence but I'm not sure about the previous two. They show some character but at the same time, that contrasts with the words. He felt empty when describing the scenes but picking at clichés while in that mood just doesn't fit.]
-----
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She ignored me, just threw her arms above her head and spun. Her yellow curls – golden under the afternoon sun – lifted off her shoulders, flying around her, spinning and spinning along with her, beckoning me to come, too.
"Dancing!" she said, her voice like a music of its own.
"But there's no music."
"You don't need music to dance, Mike!" [A good, ghost like image. You chose a nice scene to replicate, a scene that should be so lively but at the same time, you can see that it's a distant thought in his head.]
-----
I'm glad I chose to do it this way. [This could be phrased better. Maybe 'This is the right way to do it.'] I'm so sick of the silence, but the ocean isn't quiet. It's an endless recording of noise. [I'd love to see a colon here...]
Waves splashing against rocks, the dock, each other, creating a foam cover. [A semi colon would work nicely at the end of this line and then next. Work on that list style. It's good. Gives the impression of a clerk or a lawyer, someone in a rather boring, organised job. It gives some character.]
Gulls crying out to each other, looking for food, killing, scavenging.
The echo of my shoes as I walk down this fucking endless dock.
-----
"You're crazy!" I told her as she swirled around again, but I was laughing. It was harder not to.
"It's fun! I promise!" She reached out to grab my wrist, pull me closer.
"Fine. But if someone laughs at me…"
"Who's going to laugh? The trees?"
"You." [I love that!]
"I wouldn't laugh at you!"
She pulled a little harder, her tiny hand clasped in mine, and I relented. I couldn't stand to be the one causing her to stand still when she was made to be in motion, even if there's no one around to see.
"So what do I do?"
-----
I stick my hands deep into my pockets, ignoring the lint and paper clips and crumpled up post-it notes in there. [Good description. But maybe describe the texture of one of these items. Like the cold, smooth paper clips. They're like rocks if you think about it: the ones on the beech that have been worn down to a smooth surface and are slicked wet from the waves. Bring that image in. And the paper is rouch, almost gritty like sand, especially when crumpled. You don't have to do it for every item but this man can't touch the rocks or the sand and tell you how they feel: that would be out of place. But he can describe the touch of items and through them set the scene.] I didn't bother stripping out of my suit, figuring it would help weigh me down. But even with my shoes, I don't think I'm heavy enough. And I don't want to come back up once I do it.
Maybe I should have put rocks in my pockets. I heard of a lady who did that once – it sent her right to the bottom.
I look behind me, having to squint a bit through the fog. I can't see the shore.
I can't tell if the end of the dock's three or thirty or three hundred feet away. I tell myself that they wouldn't make a dock that long – that it's probably only a few steps away.
But I walk forward, convincing myself that my jacket is thick, made for Autumn, and that my shoes are big and heavy. [Good description. I'd love you to throw the name of an expensive fashion designer in here. Give the image of quite a wealthy businessman/ lawyer.]
I don't think I could have made myself come back if I turned around, if I had gone to get more rocks. And I want to do this. I have to do this. [I'd suggest changing the phrasing of that first sentence and nix the and and change the have to 'If I had turned around, gone to get more rocks, I don't think I could have made myself come back. I want to do this. I need to do this.' Can you see how that's more dramatic? And yet the words and meaning are practically the same.]
-----
"You're supposed to dance!" She pulled me closer, grasped both of my hands in hers. Leaned back, pulled against me, left me to do the same. We twirled around, faster and faster, both of us relying on the other to defy the gravity that was crashing down on us.
"This isn't exactly dancing!" I yelled over the tornado we had created.
"Is it fun?"
She spun faster for a moment, and we both held on tightly. "I guess."
"Then it's dancing!" Her smile was huge, lighting up her pale face. She was all I could see. The rest of the world – the bridge, the trees, the slowly setting sun – they all flashed by too quickly to be seen. But she's the constant. She's right there, right in front of me.
-----
It's just… it's easier this way, you know? I know it's not right, but it is easier.
I doubt this will feel good. Actually, it will probably feel like shit, having my lungs fill up with water, my clothes weigh me down, darkness everywhere.
But it can't be worse than not doing it. [A good little section. It really shows this man's emotions.]
-----
And then she was gone.
I landed on the ground with a thud, and I couldn't get my head to stop swimming long enough to focus on her.
But I heard her laughter – the music to her dance.
"I thought you said you wouldn't laugh at me," I accused.
"I'm not laughing at you," she replied, spinning and spinning, closer and closer to the water. She paused for a minute, leaned over, her hands on her knees, a big smile on her mouth. "I'm laughing with you!"
The way she said it, the way she looked, it made me laugh too. She was acting just like a little child, innocent and carefree and happy. The way I used to be. The way she used to make me.
But my head was still spinning from our dance, and though I tried to focus on her smile, I couldn't. She became part of the background, just another tree that flashed by every once in a while. [I love the imagery of this and the metaphor behind it, it works so beautifully.]
-----
I'm standing here staring out at the ocean, big and menacing, just waiting to eat me up, and all I can think is how much bigger it is than me. I mean, it's bigger than everyone, but it just feels like I'm even smaller than everyone. Like nothing will happen when I jump in – that no water will even have to move to compensate for my body. Like there's not enough of my body to matter.
It's hungry. [s]It's[/s] Its [Its works as his or her. There's no need for the possessive apostrophe.] waves claw at me, splashing my legs, my arms, my face, desperately clinging to anything it can reach. Come, it's saying. Come with me – I'll keep you safe. I'll make you feel better. I'll take away all the pain.
I believe it, because it's easier.
-----
"Are you going to get up?" Amber asked as she looked down at me. I shook my head, not wanting to be dragged into twirling around again, not after how dizzy the last dance made me.
"Fine. I'll dance by myself!" She swung her arms out again, her laughter flying up into the air, her body seeming to follow.
But then she tripped. [I think 'And then she tripped' would fit more smoothly so that it's almost a continuation of her dance, her dance through life.]
She fell into the river behind her. The currents were strong, the water white.
She struggled. I got up, ran over to her – but I couldn't run fast. I was too dizzy. [I'd suggest fragmenting this line a little more. Maybe 'She struggled. I was dizzy; too late; too slow.']
My clothes weighed me down when I jumped in, my shirt clinging to my body. I held onto rocks, [Smooth rocks hard to hold onto? Or the rough rocks that shred your fingers. Description is your friend, my dear. Even in an action scene just slot in little bits and pieces, tell us what stands out to him.] fighting my way over to her. She grasped a rock, [You can't hold on when you're unconscious. I'd suggest. 'She snagged on a rock' or something. Give that lifeless, rag-doll feel to her. Have him relieved at first maybe. And then tell us about the blood.] but she wasn't moving.
An unconscious body feels heavier than when the person is awake, but I managed to drag her to the shore. I lay her on the ground, her red-stained hair fanning out around her. My fingers shook as I dialed 911.
When I got home from the hospital that night, her blood coated my body. [Hmmm. I'd suggest something a little more dramatic. Maybe 'Every piece of clothing I owned was stained with her scent and my flesh was stained by her life.']
-----
The last thing I think of is her face with her beautiful smile flashing by, just like on the day it happened, when my head was so dizzy I couldn't see anything, just another tree that flashed by every once in a while. There, but out of reach. Visible, but out of focus. [Good. I really like this line.]
Then I jump, and pray that no one saves me this time. [It's a nice, dark ending. I like it. In general this is well written.]

Overall

This is good. It could be a little more dramatic in places but from my flick through of other comments, you've made some amazing improvements. I think you need to remember that there are other senses than sight and sound. What about the taste of the salt air? Or in the last flashback, does he try to give her mouth to mouth? Can he taste the salt and water crusted across her lips? Feel the slippery, gritty texture of them? When they twirl, can he feel her hand in his growing warmer and slippy with the sweat, can he feel his grasp on her weakening? Can he feel the wind tugging at his as he walks across the dock? Does he wish it would pull him from there, that he wouldn't have to jump? Or does he have an irrational fear of it doing just that? It's like when you intend to jump into a freezing cold pool and you both wish for something to just push you in, get it over with, but at the same time when your sister comes up behind you, you want to jump by yourself, you suddenly don't want to be pushed or thrown because you want to brace yourself: you want an opportunity to back out right until that last moment.

The next thing that needs a little work is your characterization. Okay so we know why he's jumping, we know he's scared but determined but who is he? Give us clues of the sort of life he's lead. Strengthen those impressions of the sort of man who sits behind a desk. I've given a few suggestions as to that throughout the main body of my critique but see if you can thread it in other places too. And show us more of his thoughts. Italics is an amazing feature. He seems the type to be a little sarcastic, darkly humorous, especially after that first line. Does he maybe throw his arms out before he jumps, does he spin around and fall from the edge like that. So the photo ends with him stood there but you can go further, mesh these two stories together completely, have him twirl and fall backwards, gazing up at that story sky with a smile. Have his fall mirror hers. At the moment, as pretty as this whole piece is, I don't feel bad about his death. It feels fitting that he should fall and I'm thinking of ways that he could die better rather than begging you not to kill him.

I've never been too great with overall comments but I think you get the idea. This is good but I'd love to see it better. If you have questions on any specific part, feel free to pm me and ask me to take a closer look. Hope this helps a little,

Heather xx

OMG!! I'm crying. This was so beautiful and the way you've written this kept me hooked to the end. I felt that you captured behind the picture very well. Some people would see something different but the mellow, sad approach you took was unique and beautiful at the same time. The merry go round technique that you used made me see what others might not see if they were just looking at the camera. It was as if you were there writing of two real people who loved each other and were close. I loved your title but I just have a few in my mind. Dying For Sun because he mentioned that she was like the sun. And also I know that it is like the first one but Dying For Life because his life was Amber and to be with her he needed to die. Those are just suggestions but really I think this can go untitled. Let the words speak for itself. This was magnificent, in fact it deserves a star.
Keep writing and thanks for writing such an amazing piece,
Angel

Hey Jen,

First off this is a very good piece. There were only a few things that I could pin-point and to be fair most of what I'm going to say will just be echoing the other people who have critiqued this (especially Heather).

The echo of my shoes as I walk down this fucking endless dock.

Hm, it's the swear word that made me dislike this sentence. It just doesn't seem to....fit. This guy has sort of resigned himself to the fact that he's going to jump off the dock yet you have him swear about it. Swearing makes it seem like he's angry about it - like someone is making him walk down the dock rather than his own doing. Now, the endless bit is good. It creates this feel of helplessness. Perhaps try expanding on that and cutting the swear word?

It was harder not to

This is fine as it is but when reading it aloud I keep wanting to say 'It was hard not to.' I think it just flows better from the last sentence.

Maybe I should have put rocks in my pockets. I heard of a lady who did that once – it sent her right to the bottom.

Perhaps mention Virginia Woolf properly here. It works fine as it is but surely he would know who she is. Or have him not remember her name? Have him relate something to her - depression or insanity (depending on how you view Woolf, obviously)?

I can't tell if the end of the dock's three or thirty or three hundred feet away.

Very nice.

"Then it's dancing!" Her smile was huge, lighting up her pale face. She was all I could see. The rest of the world – the bridge, the trees, the slowly setting sun – they all flashed by too quickly to be seen. But she's the constant. She's right there, right in front of me.

A chance to elaborate? Why is she always there? Who is she? Has she always been there - since they were little? Or has she always been there for the past five years?

but it just feels like I'm even smaller than everyone.

Perhaps this sentence needs lengthening? Possibly try '...even smaller than everyone else in the world.' Re-iterates the helplessness.

She struggled. I got up, ran over to her – but I couldn't run fast. I was too dizzy.

I don't quite like the wording here. It's not panicky enough. It could be more emotive. You may want to try to play around with it a bit until you find something that conveys the scene better.

When I got home from the hospital that night, her blood coated my body

Fine as it is, but again just this niggling that there should be a 'still' after 'blood'.

Visible, but out of focus.

Then I jump, and pray that no one saves me this time.

Nice.



OK, this is a good piece. I like the use of flashbacks and you incorporate them very well. Again, I have to echo Heather when I say that you could do with improving your characterisation. Mike and Amber both are a bit flat - which is why we don't get the full impact of him jumping or her dying. Maybe try putting in more detail - him breathing in her scent as they twirl around. His heart beating against his suit before he jumps.

Keep writing and don't give up on this piece - it's very good.

Alainna
xxx

JFW! *glomps*

Okay, so. You know how much I love your writing already; I don't think I need to repeat myself. ^_~ I'm a sucker for the "a lot in a short space" thing, so I loved how you switched between the present and your main character's flashbacks. This piece was just as gorgeous as the picture that came with it.

A few things:

CAUSE OF DEATH

One thing that really confused me was how the girl died. It was kind of strange--there was blood, but we don't know why, seeing as how it appears that she drowned. It'd be kind of strange if she drowned, though, because most people these days have at least a little badge from their local YMCA that says that they know how to tread water and all of that.

I just re-read it, again. If they're on a dock, it wouldn't be in a place where the river is "white with rapids" because the dock would be structurally unsound and all of the boats would separate themselves from their moorings. I used to live in a town where people drowned annually in the river; it was a marina town, too, so they kept the docks downstream from where the rapids got really bad. It would make more sense if she injured herself on the dock itself and then fell in the water. You don't have the most control of yourself when you're unconscious and under water, as fabulous as you might be.

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

You're a person who likes to write about death, which is my absolute favorite thing to read about. We make a good pair. However, I feel like some of your characters lack the franticness that accompanies suicide. People who commit suicide often don't want to suffer too much--they're just like everyone else. They might appear calm on the outside, but on the inside they're a complete wreck. Why? Every instinct in the human body is designed to keep us alive. A person who completely violates that by committing suicide is, frankly, quite messed up. Every fiber in their body is rebelling against what they're trying to do, and it makes for a fairly jittery, distressed person, no matter how calm they might appear.

___

I loooove this, JFW. ^_^ You know where to find me if you have any questions.

Jen,

This is an interesting story. Not my favorite, but I think I know why it’s not quite up to par with the rest of your writing. I don’t want to be rude in any way when I say this, but I feel that this was a bit childish. Not mature. Not the subject or anything—that’s good and all, but the voice. The man’s voice isn’t like a man at all.

I’ve included a line-by-line review in the attachment below. I hope I can help with the editing there for a bit.

CHARACTERS:

Your main character, Mike, is the one that I’m having problems with. As I said up there, he doesn’t sound like a real man. He sounds like a character that was whipped together in about an hour. By the way, that’s probably what you did, to hurry and enter this contest. If you are ever going to revisit this story, what I would work on is building Mike. Right now he’s this dull man that hates life. He hates that he couldn’t save his love. That right there is a cliché. Don’t you always read short stories like that? A man lost someone near and dear to his heart, and then has to solve everything by killing himself? It’s a bit overused.

Choose someone you know personally that could be Mike. It would be easier if you actually pick a man that has the same name. Watch him. Observe him, and then BAM! you have a fully, fleshed out character. I call it the Cheater Character. Using a real life person, you can make a character realistic because the man is real. He really existed, which makes these short contest stories really effective.

Amber. The dead lover. As I said up there, it’s cliché. We’ve heard about it over and over and over. Can’t we have something a bit different? We don’t know a whole lot about her right now. If this is the end of the story, then we’re not going to remember her at all. She’s really nothing to us. She’s not that memorable. Writers strive to have memorable characters. Conner, in your Suicide Kills Us All (I believe) is a very memorable character because he is a very fleshed out character. This is what you need to work on with both of these characters. They aren’t just stick figures. They are real, breathing people. You need to make them live.

Let’s face it. Being a writer is playing God.

-Jared

After reading, this is pretty good. For a contest i can understand you whipped this up quick smart and wasn;t too deep on the time management and letting yourself fall into it.

- Mike is a weak character. Although it is clearly evident from the start he is utterly suicidal, and has reservations, there is no explanation as to why. I spoiled and peeked at the picture, but when i read the story, that picture didn't exactly come together for me. It was there, but was very faded and if you are going to persist with this story, i reccomend you come from a different angle and approach it with plenty of time to construct it properly.
- When you change to his past, what tense is it? it kind of changes - so i slid it into present. Or at least i tried. Probably you'll hate it but those parts are the strongest and the weakest in your story. He's dancing with her, but then you go off about how 'The way I used to be. The way she used to make me'. Just doesn't fit.
- are the readers going to see the photo then read or read then see the photo? Because until the girl is introduced and actually says the characters name, the sex of this person is unknown and it’s slightly a turn off. but it can work, but knowing the sex helps develop the character just that little bit more.

I am having trouble following his private thoughts. He's talking to himself/thinking to himself, but it's all like he's telling a story, than actually thinking to himself. If he's thinking to himself wouldn't he be trying to convince himself to do it? I don't know what to really make of all you wrote on his thoughts. i like it, the description is amazing and it's all very lifelike, but um, not that easy to follow.

Sorry to sound like a hag, and don't get me wrong i adore where this story went. It just needs some tweaking and more quantitiy. You're a talented writer, and the story moulds around that picture, in most parts, quite well. Just takes a bit to sort of imagine the picture.