Chapter 1

"This is the way it is, Arabelle. Get used to it because you can't change it," I said guiltily. It always made me feel so awful to upset my little sister. Especially when I knew exactly how she felt.

Tears streamed down her perfectly edgy face, "Am, I don't want to wear this itchy scarf. Or the bug-eye sunglasses. Or make the funny faces. I want to be you. Can't we switch?" She pulled at the sequin covered fabric that wrapped around her neck. I could see the red skin where it was scratching her. If only things were like a simple game of dress up. I could be Ashta and Ashta could be Arabelle and Arabelle could be me. Like it were all just a little game.

It wasn't a game. It was life.

"I wish. We are who we are. We always have been. It's just the way things work."

"Can the doctors fix me?"

"No. The time is long past for that, Sissy."

It took me a moment to realize there were running down my face as well as Arabelle's. As we both looked at the full length mirror in her bathroom I put my hands on her shoulders. They were fragile and sometimes I was scared she would break in my hands. She just stood there with rivers of tears flowing down her cat-like eyes and sharp nose.

We looked almost nothing alike. My eyes were big and inviting, hers were almost piercing. Where I had almost platinum blond hair, Arabelle was dirty blond with think streaks of brown. Yet, we were sisters.

Soon to be the most popular sisters of the generation. No pressure or anything.

After a few more seconds of looking at our reflections I turned Arabelle towards me and used my thumbs to wipe away her sadness. "Now smile like the glam goddess you are," I spoke with confidence, hoping some of it would rub off on her. She only smiled grimly and walked , with her head held high like we were taught, out of her bathroom. I stood watching her. For a thirteen year old girl, my sister was stronger than me.

I followed her steps out of the beautiful granite covered bathroom, past her bedroom and into to the hallway. That's when I smelled the absolutely tempting scent. A smile swept across my face and the tears seemed to evaporate.

Bacon.

My pace quickened a little as I walked into the silver gleaming kitchen. What I found only made me want to sigh with annoyance.

Over the stove, with his shirt off, was Ashta's underwear model of a boyfriend. Clarke. Arabelle was looking dreamily at the sizzling bacon. She knew it was against our diet. I couldn't blame her for dreaming, though.

"Clarke, grease is going to pop and burn your prized abs and I am going to laugh," My voice was flat and matter-a-fact. At that moment Clarke jumped back a couple of feet from the oven. He acted as if he had just been shot and his facial expression made me almost curl over in laughter. The glare he gave me after the initial shock made me laugh even more.

"Would you look at that," I said in between laughing fits, "It's like I'm physic. I should open my own booth on the pier! My next prediction is that maybe you should put a shirt on, Hercules. Those abs of yours aren't as mesmerizing after seeing them every waking second."

"Am, do you enjoy laughing at me?" His stupidity never ceased to amaze me so I spoke this time like I was talking to a fifth grader.

"Why, of course not, Clarky-poo! Didn't you know? Insults are the new compliment. It's all over Vogue."

"Really?"

"Sure, I figured you, of all people, would know."

I gave Arabelle a sly smile and walked out of the kitchen. I wanted to run back in and grab the bacon, but I didn't. The scent seemed to follow me to my room where I grabbed my iPhone and texted Ashta.

You're trophy boyfriend is in our kitchen cooking bacon. Better come put him on his leash. I think he needs a walk.



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There is more to come of my first chapter! This was just all I could think of at the time.

So, I actually liked this a lot. It was a pretty intriguing start; I've very interested to know the story behind her and her sisters and what they were made for and such.

Clark was Ashta's underwear model of a boyfriend. He was a good six years older than her seventeen years, but you would never know it by his immaturity. They boy, excuse me, grown man, in my kitchen was standing over a pan of sizzling hot bacon shirtless, looking as dumb as ever. It was no surprise to me that the grease was going to burn his perfectly sculpted abs any moment. When it did he leapt three feet back from the pan and his expression made it look as if he had been shot or something. The big baby.

"So, I could have told you that was going to happen you bubble brain." I said enjoying the unsupervised ridicule I was unleashing. Normally Ashta stopped me before I got to say what I really wanted about her brainless boyfriend.

In his low, supposedly sexy, voice, Clark replied, " Am, you seem to be in a good mood as always....NOT."

"Wow, Clark, that was such an amazing insult. I feel so hurt," Sarcasm was dripping from my words, but undies boy didn't seem to get it. I let out a long sigh. What possessed my sister to date such an idiot?

So yeah, you kinda overdid it with all of those. I get it that he's stupid.

And then I don't really like the ""you bubble brain." Not a very good insult, in my book. I don't know how far you wanna go with the language and stuff in your story, so that affects what I'd suggest you change it too, but I think just a simple "you idiot" would be universally good. "You dumbass" would be good if you wanna go there with the language. Buuut that's all just my opinion.

And maybe just italicize the "NOT" instead of capping it, the capitalization is a little extreme and is just a big no-no in dialogue, usually.


Anyway, great start. I'm very interested to see how you continue this!

Thank you for the advice! I was thinking the same things you said. I need to work on my vocabulary a little. lol But I will for sure take your criticism into account!

I've read countless 'chapter 1's' and beginnings of short stories (and novels, too, actually) that begin with that tried and tested cliche of the main character waking up and carrying out there normal routine, in doing so surveying and describing themself and their surroundings in great detail to familiarise the reader with their life. I'm not a big fan of this beginning precisely because it's so cliche. Where's the catalyst? Where's the hook? It's like: 'MC wakes up. MC looks around at their room at themself and goes down to eat breakfast.' It's a perfect place for an info-dump - and you must avoid info-dumps at all costs.

I see this idea as having quite a lot of potential, actually, and it's a shame to see such a disappointing beginning. However, precisely because it's a beginning, it's not too late to change it.

Everyday started the same in my house.

This is like the beginning to the Harry Potter series (which I used to love as a child and have now over-read and over-analysed). The first page, I believe, begins with something saying that 'When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday...Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked his most boring tie for work.' Ask yourself: when the author has already established an utterly boring scene of sameness and uniformity, do you really want to read on? What faith is the reader going to have in their ability to rack up something juicy and interesting?

I see what you're doing with separating that line out from the rest - it's supposed to create impact, make a statement of fact, be assertive. But the thing is...the line in itself needs a bit more life than the static image of everything being the same. It's better to start in media res - right in the middle of the action - and reveal details slowly, throughout the action (action-description-dialogue-reflection coming in quick succession and all) than to overload the reader with all the info at once. Though in your case, it's not really a question of ovreloading; it's more just setting the stage too meticulously before getting to the main story. Why not just jump in in the first place? I can see you're brimming with ideas on where this is going - why not just dive headfirst into the main action instead of beating around the bush?

I woke up to the incessant buzzing of my pink alarm clock. My long blond hair had broken free of its pony tale last night and now frizzed around my face. The scent of my own shampoo made me smile as I sat up in my bed. Tangerine Twist, my favorite. My hands were in my hair, trying to push down the invincible hair fluff, as I looked around my pink coated room. The four post bed I slept in was draped with pink fabric and surrounding it were pink night stands, a pink desk, pink doors, pink carpet, pink electronics and even pink freaking fish. I would have traded anything to not have a pink room, but this was me. Pink was my color. That didn't stop me from wanting to walk around with my eyes closed, though. The longer I lived in that pink abyss of torment, the more I thought I was going to go insane. Actually, I knew insanity was slowly creeping in.

So...first paragraph is a straight a simple character description. No plot, no action (no significant action, that is), no movement, which is why I say no life. This kind of paragraph better belongs in your own notes on the character and not in the story as jam-packed as that is. And why do you say that 'pink freaking fish...I would have traded anything to not have a pink room...walk around with my eyes closed...abyss of torment' [too melodramatic, this last one - too emo] - all of which imply the girl hates the pink colour and then go on to say 'this was me. Pink was my colour.' I don't get it - does she like pink or doesn't she? If the answer is both yes and no, you need to make that clearer.

Prep was my label. Ashta was the punk and Arabelle was the glam queen with the sparkles and frilly things. We had no choice on who we wanted to be. We just were. Our genetics were shifted and altered in the womb so that we could physically and mentally fit for certain teenage stereotypes. One glance at me screamed prep. My hair was blonde, so blond it almost looked platinum. People used to say I looked like a walking Barbie doll. It was true. With my small nose, plump lips, and defined cheekbones I looked like I belonged in a cardboard box. Everything about me looked plastic. My clothes were neat and perfect with the quaint little sweater vests and strands of pearls glowing on my sun kissed skin. The only things I could call different on my entire body were my eyes that shined a bright, incredibly vivid, green. I was the only one of my sisters with green eyes. It was something I began cherishing more and more as my life took the wild spin I knew it would.

Too much explanation and not enough action. Only Shakespeare could dole out entire acts before getting to the main story. I'm sure you've heard this before: show, don't tell. I feel like I'm being told here, not shown. Showing means subtly incorporating little nuggets of details throughout the action - telling is when you slap it all in the reader's face in one big go. I don't remember half of what I've read above because there's too much, and because I wonder how much of it is actually relevant. I mean, is there any need to describe each and every miniscule detail of your MC and their family to the reader? They've got imaginations, and if the description really does matter, then they'll remember it when you put it in. Putting in this amount of description means that none of it becomes siginificant, and hence all of it is hard to remember.

It was no surprise to me that the grease was going to burn his perfectly sculpted abs any moment. When it did he leapt three feet back from the pan and his expression made it look as if he had been shot or something. He was a drama queen.

"So, I could have told you that was going to happen. Its what you get for doing everything with your shirt off. The muscles start to lose their appeal after a few days, you know," I said

Now this is getting better. We have some action instead of straight description. I feel like I understand your MC much better just from that line of dialogue above than I did from the whole two paragraphs before that. This bit is funny, light and clever. I'd remove the 'you know' from her words, too, since they're space-fillers and nothing else.

enjoying the unsupervised ridicule I was unleashing. Normally Ashta stopped me before I got to say what I really wanted about her trophy boyfriend

The 'enjoying...unleashing' was completely unecessary. It's obvious she found that incredibly funny from the way she talked, just before. And the 'Normally, Ashta......' line - what's the point of it? Try and make your details count, rather than cramming every possible detail in there. Sometimes authors have too much information, sometimes not enough, and sometimes both - by which I mean too much unecessary information and not enough relevant information. It's all well and good to create the scene with details - in fact, I would most definitely encourage you to do so - but at the same time, it's good to remember that the details must matter in some way and not be thrown in there for the sake of details.

sarcasm was dripping from my words

Do we really need this? I can tell the MC is sarcastic just from the way she said the line.


Overall, I still think you've got a good idea here. A novel that captures a similar idea of popularity and personal integrity is Ninteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult. It's riveting, deep, fast-paced and just amazing. You might like to give it a read.

I hope that has been helpful. PM me if you have got further questions, have made changes or would like to discuss an aspect of your novel (actually, do PM me anyway since I'm rather curious to know exactly how the story is going to pan out) and I'd be happy to help.

Oh, I see! You edited it on the same post! Okay, so that's perfectly fine - normal routine, actually - it's just that someone like me find it easier to comment when they can compare them side by side. But that's okay - since you planned on giving it a full rewrite from start to finish (later posters might wonder where the quotes in mine and Attolia's reviews came from, though!). Hehee.

Anyway, I felt that this was quite an improvement from the age-old beginning of the character waking up. What I liked is how you began in media res - right in the middle of the action, the dialogue, the main CONFLICT. That was great thinking on your part, and it sort of sets the scene for the rest of the book as well (or short-story or whatever you intend this to be).

However, as said before, an element of mystery must still be maintained at the beginning. The reader has to know bits and pieces, but not everything, otherwise they: a. get bored and lose interest if the whole story is revealed and b. don't find subsequent parts as intriguing. What was good was the absolute paring down of adjectives and descriptions of the characters - all the unecessary details being relegated to the back corner of your mind. What wasn't so great about the beginning here was that it sounded almost too preachy, like we were getting the message shoved down our throats right before the story even began. The conflict revealed here is exactly that - the main issue that you're trying to get across - appearance vs reality, shallow identity vs depth of character, inner desires vs outer glamour. Do we need this revealed right at the beginning? And if yes, then do we need it to be revealed this obviously, in this much detail? Why not underplay it instead? Make the reader think it's less important and then...bam, hit them with things to connect this with events later on in the story?

"This is the way it is, Arabelle. Get used to it because you can't change it," I said guiltily. It always made me feel so awful to upset my little sister. Especially when I knew exactly how she felt.

Argh. This just ruined it for me. 'This is the way it is' - I hate to see that kind of a dejected take on life straight from the first words. Imagine opening a book, reading those first words. What kind of first impression do you have of the main character? The main situation? And the line itself is one great big cliche, too, so doesn't give the reader much of a hint of some new thing about to be revealed, some new idea, some new way of thinking.

Like it were all just a little game.

It wasn't a game. It was life.

"I wish. We are who we are. We always have been. It's just the way things work."

The little sister's dialogue was great till this point, but perhaps a bit melodramatic. Make the crying more believable. Make her throw a tantrum, like all little sisters do (trust me: I know). And please, please do not try and dive headfirst into the 'moral of the story' right from the beginning. Or if you want this scene to be symbolic...underplay it. Show Amalee (is that her name?) getting feisty, frustrated, angry with her sister (isn't that what you'd do in that situation?) or being a loving older sis - whichever fits her character the best: any philosophical sides to Am can be well-revealed later on. Subtlety is going to be your biggest ally here, since even the barest hint of overwriting is going to kill the depth of the overall theme. Instead, it might come out fake and contrived. Not exactly your intention at all.

It took me a moment to realize there were running down my face as well as Arabelle's. As we both looked at the full length mirror in her bathroom I put my hands on her shoulders. They were fragile and sometimes I was scared she would break in my hands. She just stood there with rivers of tears flowing down her cat-like eyes and sharp nose.

This is a 'normal day,' right? So why this excessive nervous breakdown? As a girl, yeah, I cry, but not regularly and not nearly at the tiniest thing. We haven't really been introduced to the earlier parts of where and how the conflict began (which is ABSOLUTELY FINE by me, since it's better to begin straight in the middle of it), and that's why this seems quite unbelievable. No need to have them drowning in tears before the main story starts.

(Gabby, I just want to say here that what you've accomplished in rethinking and rewriting is GREAT and that I am being horrifically specific about this...but that's only because I see you as someone who has so much potential to make this a winner, and I KNOW you will work at it and make it better - the fact that you pretty much scrapped the old beginning is a testament to that. )

I could be Ashta and Ashta could be Arabelle and Arabelle could be me.

Okay, I know this is just a tad out of order, but I quite liked this line - it sort of gets a point across, but more vaguely and more subtly than some of the other lines. I'm not sure about it's placement, though...is it dislocated? Might it have greater impact later in the story?

"Can the doctors fix me?"

I also like the vagueness of this. At this stage we don't really know what's medically wrong with them - if anything - so this simple child's question makes it all the more intriguing.

Yet, we were sisters.

Soon to be the most popular sisters of the generation. No pressure or anything.

First line above is unecessary. The second line...gives away too much too fast. There really is a fine balance between exposition and subtlety to be achieved here!

I followed her steps out of the beautiful granite covered bathroom, past her bedroom and into to the hallway. That's when I smelled the absolutely tempting scent. A smile swept across my face and the tears seemed to evaporate.

Bacon.

Hahaha. That was funny! Perhaps the transition from ridiculous sadness to humour was a bit fast, but it was a much-appreciated transition. Your main character is more herself when being funny, sarcastic and sassy. I'd like to think that she even enjoys it, this role of being a glam queen; and that sometimes it is just wow. But of course, the conflict you want to portray is the internal one, that of the little snatches of time when she doesn't like who she is or who she has to be. Which is why I am cautioning you not to reveal it too quick!!!

"Clarke, grease is going to pop and burn your prized abs and I am going to laugh," My voice was flat and matter-a-fact. At that moment Clarke jumped back a couple of feet from the oven. He acted as if he had just been shot and his facial expression made me almost curl over in laughter. The glare he gave me after the initial shock made me laugh even more.

"Would you look at that," I said in between laughing fits, "It's like I'm physic. I should open my own booth on the pier! My next prediction is that maybe you should put a shirt on, Hercules. Those abs of yours aren't as mesmerizing after seeing them every waking second."

"Am, do you enjoy laughing at me?" His stupidity never ceased to amaze me so I spoke this time like I was talking to a fifth grader.

Go and count the number of times you've said the word 'laugh' in there. Have a think: are some parts unecessarily overdoing it ('curl over...the glare he gave me'). Make the reader, not the MC laugh.

You're trophy boyfriend is in our kitchen cooking bacon. Better come put him on his leash. I think he needs a walk

Yay for another bit of light humour! There's a sweet simplicity of this moment, of the slight sandpapery relationship that Am and Clark have - that any girl and her sister's bf could have - and it sort of slaps us right down into reality again, showing that A, A and A's family might have a humungous point of difference, but at the end of the day, they're a real family with real people and real feelings and interactions.

So...well done on the revisions, keep planning, keep writing and rewriting, and PM me if you've got problems or when you want me to look over something again!