Bubbling, chapter 5

This is just awful. I'm stunned. I don't know what to do. I promised and swore to be as mean to Cinnamon as possible. I'm cracking. It's nearly impossible to snarl at her. She's so... I don't know. It's like she absorbed all the nasty words I'm planning to say. I bet she'll become some sort of a psychologist, the follower of Oprah. Cinnamon's still eerie. Although – I'm not sure whether I want to admit this – I'm kind of starting to like her.
I can't believe I said that!
But isn't it scary? She notices everything, even the tiniest details. You can't keep anything from her.
However, there is one thing she's right on. Blowing soap bubbles is relaxing. I hadn't ever tried it before.
Should I give her a chance or shall I carry on like this? The latter tempts me just a little yet do I know that Cinnamon couldn't care less although I'd eat the whole bread without butter or stop talking at all.
The carpet stares back at me. It was pretty dumb, eating the toast with nothing on it, just to protest.
Maybe I should listen to the Beatles: all you need is love. I have to love Cinnamon as she was my sister, because I can truly imagine what it would be like to live two months in a place where nobody says a friendly word.
Unbelievable! How can I even consider it? A sister? I always hated it when some little brats claimed to be sisters just because they were the best of friends and wore the same hairdo or something.
But Cinnamon's definitely not my friend. She's a pain in the neck. My neck, to be exact. I bet all the teachers at her school keep her as a cheeky know-it-all.
Though deep down inside me, on the horizon of my mind, I can see a part of my real thoughts. Cinnamon is probably everyone's favorite in the village of hers. All the old women at the marketplace slip bracelets and cashew nuts into her pockets, all the children follow her wherever she goes, all the little birdies eat from her hand.
It's a thought so unfair – but presumably correct – that I just must go back to her room just to see what exactly is the glorious and excellent thing about her.
Cinnamon's dipping the ring in the bottle and sighing. Then, she starts talking softly to herself:
"I still don't know my place here. At first I didn't feel welcome, but now the stone wall has started breaking. Of course that's nice, but I also think it's difficult for them to decide what to think of me."
I didn't see she was feeling that way. I just thought she was trying to become noticed and draw the attention to herself. Have I caused that other emotion in her? It's a pity if I have.
Hey, I was supposed to collect the mercy and moan all I can, but suddenly I'm feeling sorry for her. Is it even possible for someone to change someone else so much in one day?
Can it be possible to me to change so much in one day?
But I can't decide whether I have changed. I have to wait and see.
Unexpectedly, Cinnamon opens her mouth again. I'm still thinking she's talking to herself.
"What do you think about this, Satin?"
Okay, maybe not.
I start my floor very smartly with "Um" and then go on:
"I... don't really know...Are you in a bad mood because of me?"
She closes the bottle and puts it away – The Talk is on its way. As well as The Thinking.
"No. I can't say that. A mood cannot be bad. Bad is like evil. No. I'm not sad because of you, but I have to admit I'm not really used to this kind of prejudice."
"'Tis a long word", I state. Although I'd rather cringe, like all the idiots should do.
Again that unfamiliar, not-fitting-in-our-kitchen laughter that suddenly doesn't sound so strange after all. "Some people panic when I use long words they don't understand."
"I don't. I understand."
"I know that", Cinnamon convinces. How can someone be like that, knowing she causes headache for someone else and still is innocent like an angel from the heaven, kind and obedient, although the inside of the someone else splits into many directions and finally burns in a volcano, the Big Bang of the end that covers the whole world in boiling lava, and still, there she is, smooth and cool like a surface of a teaspoon... Cinnamon must be enjoying this, she sees how I suffer and what I go through, and there she just is, watching with her olive Bambi eyes...
I have no idea who I am, where I am and what the heck I am doing here. I can hardly imagine what I thought at the moment she stepped in on her size 3 feet (I saw her soles when she crossed her legs), when I didn't know that my life was about to change completely within the next 24 hours. It's scary. She is scary.
Although the cleverest human being on the Earth. A little bit like Gandhi.
There is someone called Gandhi, right?

Demeter wrote:This is just awful. I'm all all is redundant here stunned. I don't know what to do. I promised and swore to be as mean to Cinnamon as possible. I'm breaking reconsider word choice . It's nearly impossible to snarl at her. She's so... I don't know. It's like she absorbed all the nasty words I'm planning to say. I bet she'll become some sort of a psychologist, the follower of Oprah. Cinnamon's still eerie. Although – I'm not sure whether I want to admit this – I'm kind of starting to like her.

I can't believe I said that!

But isn't it scary? She notices everything, even no need for 'eve' all the tiniest details. You can't keep anything from her.

However, there is one thing she's right on. Blowing soap bubbles is relaxing. I hadn't ever tried it before.

Should I give her a chance or shall I carry on like this? The latter tempts me just a little yet do I know that Cinnamon couldn't care less although I'd eat the whole bread without butter or stop talking at all.

The carpet stares back at me. It was pretty dumb, eating the toast with nothing on it, just to protest.

Maybe I should listen to the Beatles: all you need is love. I have to love Cinnamon as she was my sister, because I can truly imagine what it would be like to live two months in a place where nobody says a friendly word.

Unbelievable! How can I even consider it? A sister? I always hated it when some little brats claimed to be sisters just because they were the best of friends and wore the same hairdo or something.

But Cinnamon's definitely not my friend. She's a pain in the neck. My neck, to be exact. I bet all the teachers at her school keep her as a cheeky know-it-all.

Though deep down inside me, on the horizon of my mind reconsider phrase, has a nice ring to it but is a bit awkward all the same , I can see a part of my real thoughts. Cinnamon is probably everyone's favorite in the village of hers. All the old women at the marketplace slip bracelets and cashew nuts into her pockets, all the children follow her wherever she goes, all the little birdies eat from her hand.

It's a thought so unfair – but presumably correct – that I just must go back to her room just to see what exactly is the glorious and excellent thing about her.

Cinnamon's dipping the ring in the bottle and sighing. Then, she starts talking softly to herself:

"I still don't know my place here. At first I didn't feel welcome, but now the stone wall has started breaking. Of course that's nice, but I also think it's difficult for them to decide what to think of me."

I didn't see she was feeling that way. I just thought she was trying to become noticed and draw the attention to herself. Have I caused that other emotion in her? It's a pity if I have.

Hey, I was supposed to collect the mercy and moan all I can, but suddenly I'm feeling sorry for her. Is it even possible for someone to change someone else so much in a no need for a one day?

Is it possible to change so much in a no need for 'a' one day? Ineffective wording here, sounds like unnecessary repetition. "Would it be possible for me to change so much in one day?" would sound better, I think

But I can't decide whether I have changed. I have to wait and see.

Unexpectedly, Cinnamon opens her mouth again. I'm still thinking she's talking to herself.

"What do you think about this, Satin?"

Okay, maybe not.

I start my floor very smartly with "Um" and then go on:

"I... don't really know...Are you in a bad mood because of me?"

She closes the bottle and puts it away – The Talk is on its way. As well as The Thinking.

"No. I can't say that. A Mood cannot be bad. Bad is like evil. No. I'm not sad because of you, but I have to admit I'm not really used to this kind of prejudice."

"'Tis a long word", I state. Although I'd rather cringe, like all the idiots should do.

Again that unfamiliar, not-fitting-in-our-kitchen laughter that suddenly doesn't sound so strange after all. "Some people panic when I use long words they don't understand."

"I don't. I understand."

"I know that", Cinnamon convinces. How can someone be like that, knowing she causes headache for someone else and still is innocent like an angel from the heaven, kind and obedient, although the inside of the someone else splits into many directions and finally burns in a volcano, the Big Bang of the end that covers the whole world in boiling lava, and still, there she is, smooth and cool like a surface of a teaspoon... Cinnamon must be enjoying this, she sees how I suffer and what I go through, and there she just is, watching with her olive Bambi eyes... Great paragraph, love the imagery

I have no idea who I am, where I am and what the heck I am doing here. I can hardly imagine what I thought at the moment she stepped in on her size 3 feet (I saw her soles when she crossed her legs), when I didn't know that my life was about to change completely within the next 24 hours. It's scary. She is scary.

Although the cleverest human being on the Earth. A little bit like Gandhi.

There is someone called Gandhi, right?

OK, another good part.

You should refrain from starting so many sentences with "It's"; that's too vague and repetetive. Just to note.

And, still character development. You need to work on that.

What I mean by it is the way your character is crated in the reader's mind. Good character development is when they seem realistic; looks, behaviour, the way they speak, their actions, the lot. The reader has to be able to understand the character, and their feelings, to see the reasons behind their actions, for the development to be good.

Bad character development is when you simply tell me what the character does without sayingwhy. Or when you don't give any insight on the character's thoughts and feelings and emotions, they various things that trigger their behaviour.

You want the reaer to understand your characters, to know exactly what they do and why they do it. Otherwise, the things you have your characters do seem unrealistic, awkward, and therefor they make your character seem less real.

Good character development is when you've convinced the reader that your character could come alive at any minute and come strolling through teh door; you've made them into a living person with thoughts and feelings, who have their actions justified somehow.

Uh, I hope that makes sense... let me know if you have any more questions, I guess

Hey D- sorry I took so long getting around to review this. Things just seem to create themselves to distract me. But anyway, I'm babbling. Or bubbling, perhaps? That joke was awful. Thankfully, this chapter wasn't.


Pegasi_quill has picked out most of the grammatical errors in this piece so I won't bore you with them, however my biggest problem is that there's simple not enough happening to sustain the reader's interest. There's simply not enough excitment- no new problems, change of scenery or time change. This seems as if it should be condensed into smaller chapters. There's far too much juvenille telling, and over description. We need action- less thoughts. Good writers find a balance.

Other wise, you've really got something here. Don't let it slip away. I have personally edited my chapters of my novel within an inch of their life. Don't be afraid to hack, axe and butcher your piece to make it shine.

Hope this helps,

Eimear xx

Demeter-
So I'm reading this and I feel like it's not getting anywhere. Where's the plot? (I don't want to sound mean) I just feel like something's missing. And Lizzie talks or thinks to herself, way too much. It's over-used at times. Anyway, I'm going to go on to the next chapter...bye.
-Merry

Another review, as promised

Demeter wrote:This is just awful. I'm stunned. I don't know what to do. I promised and swore to be as mean to Cinnamon as possible. I'm cracking. It's nearly impossible to snarl at her. She's so... I don't know. It's like she absorbed all the nasty words I'm planning to say. I bet she'll become some sort of a psychologist, the follower of Oprah. Cinnamon's still eerie. Although – I'm not sure whether I want to admit this – I'm kind of starting to like her. This paragraph is, again, repeating everything Cinnamon said in a new format. The "I'm cracking" pushes it.
I can't believe I said that!
But isn't it scary? She notices everything, even the tiniest details. You can't keep anything from her.
However, there is one thing she's right on. Blowing soap bubbles is relaxing. I hadn't ever tried it before.
Should I give her a chance or shall I carry on like this? The latter tempts me just a little yet do I know that Cinnamon couldn't care less although I'd eat the whole bread without butter or stop talking at all.
The carpet stares back at me. It was pretty dumb, eating the toast with nothing on it, just to protest.
Maybe I should listen to the Beatles: all you need is love. I have to love Cinnamon as she was my sister, because I can truly imagine what it would be like to live two months in a place where nobody says a friendly word. This feels unnatural. You spend two chapters of Satin's viewpoint explaining how she will hate her second-cousin who's been imposed on her for the summer, and one paragraph practically renouncing everything. Even with the stuff below, the change feels a little too quick.
Unbelievable! How can I even consider it? A sister? I always hated it when some little brats claimed to be sisters just because they were the best of friends and wore the same hairdo or something.
But Cinnamon's definitely not my friend. She's a pain in the neck. My neck, to be exact. I bet all the teachers at her school keep her as a cheeky know-it-all.
Though deep down inside me, on the horizon of my mind, I can see a part of my real thoughts. Cinnamon is probably everyone's favorite in the village of hers. All the old women at the marketplace slip bracelets and cashew nuts into her pockets, all the children follow her wherever she goes, all the little birdies eat from her hand.
It's a thought so unfair – but presumably correct – that I just must go back to her room just to see what exactly is the glorious and excellent thing about her.
Cinnamon's dipping the ring in the bottle and sighing. Then, she starts talking softly to herself:
"I still don't know my place here. At first I didn't feel welcome, but now the stone wall has started breaking. Of course that's nice, but I also think it's difficult for them to decide what to think of me." I get the effect your trying to achieve, but mentioning the cracking stone is a little much. Again, the mind-reader thing.
I didn't see she was feeling that way. I just thought she was trying to become noticed and draw the attention to herself. Have I caused that other emotion in her? It's a pity if I have. A very sharp character change again
Hey, I was supposed to collect the mercy and moan all I can, but suddenly I'm feeling sorry for her. Is it even possible for someone to change someone else so much in one day?
Can it be possible to me to change so much in one day? I'm asking the same thing here.
But I can't decide whether I have changed. I have to wait and see.
Unexpectedly, Cinnamon opens her mouth again. I'm still thinking she's talking to herself. Awkward. Try: "I think she's still talking to herself."
"What do you think about this, Satin?"
Okay, maybe not. I loved this line!
I start my floor I stare at my floor, perhaps? Even then the flow is off. Try: "I stare at my floor and start..." very smartly with "Um" and then go on:
"I... don't really know...Are you in a bad mood because of me?"
She closes the bottle and puts it away – The Talk is on its way. As well as The Thinking. What is The Talk and what is The Thinking?
"No. I can't say that. A mood cannot be bad. Bad is like evil. No. I'm not sad because of you, but I have to admit I'm not really used to this kind of prejudice." This is saintly, even for Cinnamon. Too saintly.
"'Tis a long word", I state. Although I'd rather cringe, like all the idiots should do. 'Tis? That doesn't sound like Satin at all.
Again that unfamiliar, not-fitting-in-our-kitchen laughter that suddenly doesn't sound so strange [s]after all[/s] anymore. "Some people panic when I use long words they don't understand."
"I don't. I understand."
"I know that", Cinnamon convinces. How can someone be like that, knowing she causes headache for someone else and still is innocent like an angel from the heaven, kind and obedient, although the inside of the someone else splits into many directions and finally burns in a volcano, the Big Bang of the end that covers the whole world in boiling lava, and still, there she is, smooth and cool like a surface of a teaspoon... Cinnamon must be enjoying this, she sees how I suffer and what I go through, and there she just is, watching with her olive Bambi eyes...
I have no idea who I am, where I am and what the heck I am doing here. Now Satin is sounding like herself again I can hardly imagine what I thought at the moment she stepped in on her size 3 feet (I saw her soles when she crossed her legs), when I didn't know that my life was about to change completely within the next 24 hours. It's scary. She is scary.
Although the cleverest human being on the Earth. A little bit like Gandhi.
There is someone called Gandhi, right?

It feels like your starting to loose any focus you had been setting up in the chapters before. I expected Satin to take off, go talk to Misty and totally vent. This change in her character is so sudden that it becomes unbelievable.

The style on it's own is good, but it doesn't fit with the style of the previous chapters.