Chapter 1 of Pepita Borrico

[pre]Dear Diary,
I’m Pepita Borrico. I never knew who I wanted to be as I grew up, but I know I have dreams. I still don’t know who I want to be, but I’m working on it. This is my world, and how I live it.
My mother was a strong person who never let anything stop her from reaching her dreams. She was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 19. That was three months after I was born. My mom was raped at a college party right after she turned 18. Her life was hectic, but she never let me, her sickness, or anything else get in the way of accomplishing her dreams. She is forever in my heart, and my role model. She died four years later.
I didn’t have any other family, and my “dad” was in jail for her rape. I never knew him, and I don’t even think he knew I existed. As sad as it was, I have a great life because I was raised by the sweetest, strongest woman in the world, my mother. Before she died, she taught me more than I could ever learn in 20 years of college, the secrets to surviving. Those are the little things I am sure I will always have with me.
After she died, I was put into a foster home. I was the only foster child at Mamà Marìa’s. She taught me everything my mom did not have the chance to. I was sent to her the day after my mom died. I was always in the saddest mood, and Mamà Marìa helped me through. The day of her funeral, I locked myself in my room. I fell asleep for just a few short minuets, but it was enough time for her to sneak in through the closet,(there was another door linking our closets) and wake me up.
Mamà Marìa carried me out to the car. It was a small car, but it was just right for us. Once we arrived to St. John’s Funeral Home, I sat in the front with Mamà. She held me tight in her arms like mom used to do. I felt like I was home again, and nothing had happen.
The service seemed like it went on for years, but finally it was over. We went to the cemetery right behind the church where she was buried. If there was anything I liked about that day it was where she was buried. Her casket was put into the ground right under a ginormous Weeping Willow. It was mom’s, and my favorite type of tree.
Mama Maria said, “A Weeping Willow is the best type of tree there is. It means the person buried there is watching over everyone they ever loved, and since your Mother definitely loved you, she will always be looking over you.”
That was the best news I ever could hear on that day, besides that this was all a complete, and very sad, depressing dream. But it was not. It was real, and my mom was dead.
Mama Maria told me, “You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their parents, not the other way around.’ “ Well, this is my life’s story, and so it begins.
Pepita Borrico[/pre]

I allowed you to be my friend after this review. All of my added stuff is in braces.


Dear Diary,

I’m {Contractions should be avoided in formal writing. This is a letter to a diary, so it's personal and doesn't have to be formal. As you can see, what I'm writing is formal. } Pepita Borrico. I never knew who I wanted to be as I grew up, but I know I have dreams. I still don’t know who I want to be, but I’m working on it. This is my world, and how I live it.

My mother was a strong person who never let anything stop her from reaching her dreams. She was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 19, that was three months after I was born. My mom was raped at a college party right after she turned 18. Her life was hectic, but she never let me, her sickness, or anything else get in the way of accomplishing her dreams. She is forever in my heart and my role model. She died four years later.

I didn’t have any other family, and my “dad” was in jail for her rape. I never knew him, and I don’t even think he knew I existed. As sad as it was, I had a great life because I was raised by the sweetest, strongest woman in the world, my mother. Before she died, she taught me more than I would ever learn in 20 years of college, the secrets to surviving. Those are the little things I am sure I will always have with me.

After she died, I was put into a foster home. I was the only foster child at Mama Maria’s. She taught me everything my mom did not have the chance to. I was sent to her the day after my mom died. I was always in the saddest mood, and {always} Mama Maria helped me through. The day of {Mom's} funeral, I locked myself in my room. I fell asleep for just a few short minut{e}s, but it was enough time for her to sneak in through the closet (there was another door linking our closets) and wake me up.

Mama Maria carried me out to the car. It was a small car, but it was just right for us. Once we arrived to St. John’s Funeral Home, I sat in the front with Mama. She held me tight in her arms like {M}om used to do. I felt like I was home again, and nothing had happen.

The service seemed like it went on for years, but finally it was over. We went to the cemetery right behind the church where she was buried. If there was anything I liked about that day it was where she was buried. Her casket was put into the ground right under a ginormous Weeping Willow. It was {M}om’s and my favorite type of tree. Mama Maria said {on that day}, “A Weeping Willow is the best type of tree there is. It means the person buried there is watching over everyone they ever loved, and since your {m}other definitely loved you, she will always be looking over you.”

That was the best news I ever could hear on that day{. All I wanted} this {to be was} a very sad and depressing dream. But it was not, it was real, and my mom was dead. Mama Maria told me, “You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their children, not the other way around.’” {I believe the saying is “parents shouldn't have to bury their children.”} Well, this is my life’s story, so I’ll never be forgotten.

Pepita Borrico


{I am very impressed. To this date, I've written eight reviews, and your exerpt is the best. (Don't take offense, other-guys-that-I've-reviewed.) The worst part was the saying at the end of the story (there was also one misplaced letter in “minutes”). I have a question though. Although I'm assuming this story to be fictional, have you written it from experience?}

I like it, but it does feel like your dumping information in my lap. You're very good at writing and I do want to read more of you stuff. Just put more detail in in because she's still a blank canvas to me. the way its written does look like a diary but it sounds like she's writing a paragraph for her teacher. I need to feel like I know her and feel the way she feels. All in all its a good story line and I'm excited to read what happens. You're awesome!!!

I like this piece, the story line of it. I think you should make it more personal though, yes, that is the type of thing she would write in her diary, but make her say stupid little things like "I got my test back today, it was a 90" stuff like that.

You could even add in about crushes and type of stuff. I think you need to add more detail because the character is still not clear to me.

Looking forward to more of this!

I really like what you've written, but it really should be more personal if its a diary, you should say more stuff thats on her mind. Also try and make it more discriptive, i`m having a hard time trying to belive that her and mama maria are close, btw how old is this girl.

Also i found it kind of confusing when you said

Mama Maria told me, “You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their children, not the other way around.’ “ Well, this is my life’s story, so I’ll never be forgotten.

shouldn`t it have said

‘children should bury their "parents", not the other way around.’ “

it might of been a typo but i`m not sure

i really like this i want to see where it goes from here.

Hi Jeni! I'll do the next three chapters right away, if I don't have to go to bed first. I will also do the rest of the works you posted! Also let me know if you ever post something else and want a critique on it.

Here are my comments:

“dad”

put: 'dad' Instead of the other.

The service seemed like it went on for years, but finally it was over. We went to the cemetery right behind the church where she was buried. If there was anything I liked about that day it was where she was buried.

Erm, it would take a while before the mother is buried, so they would wait for a long time before going to her grave.

ginormous

not a real word.

“You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their parents, not the other way around.’ “ Well, this is my life’s story, and so it begins.
Pepita Borrico

Put what Mama Maria says a line down, and also put the girl's name a line down.

Now for the other things. It needs to be spaced out more, it would look a lot better, and be easier to read.

Dear Diary,

I’m Pepita Borrico. I never knew who I wanted to be as I grew up, but I know I have dreams. I still don’t know who I want to be, but I’m working on it. This is my world, and how I live it.
My mother was a strong person who never let anything stop her from reaching her dreams. She was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 19. That was three months after I was born. My mom was raped at a college party right after she turned 18. Her life was hectic, but she never let me, her sickness, or anything else get in the way of accomplishing her dreams. She is forever in my heart, and my role model. She died four years later.
I didn’t have any other family, and my “dad” was in jail for her rape. I never knew him, and I don’t even think he knew I existed.

As sad as it was, I have a great life because I was raised by the sweetest, strongest woman in the world, my mother. Before she died, she taught me more than I could ever learn in 20 years of college, the secrets to surviving. Those are the little things I am sure I will always have with me.


After she died, I was put into a foster home. I was the only foster child at Mama Maria’s. She taught me everything my mom did not have the chance to. I was sent to her the day after my mom died. I was always in the saddest mood, and Mama Maria helped me through. The day of her funeral, I locked myself in my room. I fell asleep for just a few short minuets, but it was enough time for her to sneak in through the closet,(there was another door linking our closets) and wake me up.
Mama Maria carried me out to the car. It was a small car, but it was just right for us. Once we arrived to St. John’s Funeral Home, I sat in the front with Mama. She held me tight in her arms like mom used to do. I felt like I was home again, and nothing had happen.
The service seemed like it went on for years, but finally it was over. We went to the cemetery right behind the church where she was buried. If there was anything I liked about that day it was where she was buried. Her casket was put into the ground right under a ginormous Weeping Willow. It was mom’s, and my favorite type of tree. Mama Maria said,

“A Weeping Willow is the best type of tree there is. It means the person buried there is watching over everyone they ever loved, and since your Mother definitely loved you, she will always be looking over you.”


That was the best news I ever could hear on that day, besides that this was all a complete, and very sad, depressing dream. But it was not. It was real, and my mom was dead. Mama Maria told me, “You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their parents, not the other way around.’ “ Well, this is my life’s story, and so it begins.
Pepita Borrico

Doesn't that look much better? You had a plot hole or two, I pointed one out. Also, just for future writings, try not to have your character give all the info for the story. You did well to avoid that, but when I first started reading it, I thought it might be like that. But good job!

I'm going straight to chapter two! This story caught my attention and made it so I want to turn the page and read on, although there is no page, just a few clicks. xD


Great, very Great job with this! Let me know if something doesn't make sense, and I'll try my best to explain it in a better way.

~Fire

Pretty good. Spacing would be good so it's easier on the eyes.

I agree with the others. Please, space, mate. If I go blind, I blame you. haha.

I would like more pathos. She seems too lassez-faire about her mom dying and her dad being in jail for raping her mother. She may be uber-smart, but, though she may be composed on the outside, she should still be a bit traumatized. I'd like to see her cry, and I want to cry with her. This is made easier by your decision to use a diary entry. For instance, you could say, "Sorry for those tears. It won't happen again; I'm composed now." Or, "I'm taping a picture of my mom and a piece of that weeping willow here. I don't want to forget."

But all in all, good job. I like it.

First, I think you need to space out your story more. I read all the way through but it is hard to read when your on the computer and everything is together like that.

Besides that, you are a good writer and I find this to be an interesting piece.

However, I think you should keep some of the information you just gave for later if you choose to continue it. Too much information at one time can overload on the reader.

Overall, I think this was a very good and I hope you continue it!