My Name is L Phoenix Chapter 1

My name is L Phoenix. I am 15 years old. I am writing this from a hospital bed. I'm being fed by a tube and my best friend is painting my nails bright blue. Blue like the sky. Blue like my mood.

I don’t know why I’m writing this all down. The only reason I can think of is that it would make me feel like my life has meant something. This book is not for people who are looking for action or excitement. This book is written by a girl who likes the sound of a pen scratching on paper, who tries to paint colour with words, who tries to fix things by writing. I'm not perfect, which is obvious, and I don't try to be.

Six months ago it was a Friday in October, and I sat in class listening to the drone of my teacher. Rain drizzled down from lazy clouds, evaporating as soon as it hit the school asphalt. I drew spirals in the little checker squares of my maths book, fiddled with the strands of my green school skirt and didn’t look forward to the sound of the bell. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stare the clock down.

The bell rang and I watched everyone around me leap to their feet, ready to start the weekend. Their excitement clashed dramatically with my mood and I tried on a smile as I stuffed books into my patchwork satchel and scuffed my way across the grounds to my dad's car.

The car trip was long without music, so Dad turned on the stereo and started to sing along to The Proclaimers. I'm on my way to what I want from this world...

That day my name was Lucy. I didn’t know why, but it had always sounded like a name for a shy person. Someone who worries a lot. Perfectly suited to a girl with a bitten off thumbnail and more ladders than actual tights. Perfectly suited to a girl who was just about to find out whether the poison that had once eaten into her body had come back.

That might sound morbid but it's the truth, and I can't stand it when things are sugar-coated in novels to make you feel better. I'm not going to try to make you feel better because this is my life, and I don't see the point in making it reader-friendly. But I'll try not to gross you out too much.

Dad switched off the car stereo. I shivered into the silence. As if sensing my apprehension, Dad put his callused fingers on mine. “Ready?” I turned away. What was I supposed to say to that? In reply, I yanked the door open and revelled in its reluctant moan. Dad’s a musician. That sort of job doesn’t buy you a Porsche.

We walked through the white corridors. Although I had seen everything before, I drank it in all over again. The paintings of wildlife that were so out of place in this sterilised labyrinth, the grubby little fingerprints on the ‘up’ button of the lift. I busied myself with looking at the details rather than thinking about what was coming.

There was a long wait for the paediatric oncologist. Nobody was talking. That suited me perfectly fine. I still remember the feeling of nerves- it was as if a discontent ocean was sloshing around in my stomach. Dad came back from the vending machine with a packet of MnMs. He poured some into my hand and I crunched the brown ones up in my mouth as I played with the others, making patterns with their colours, and watched the second hand of the clock tick on. The door of the office opened and a 5 year old walked out, clutching her mum’s hand; dragging behind was a one-eyed scruffbear. I wished I was that young again. I shut my eyes and whispered a split second prayer for this girl.

I found myself walking into the office, finding a seat, staring at my shoes. I thought about how I needed to tie the laces, and how if I tied them right then it would seem like I didn’t care about what Doctor Hodgson was saying. But I didn’t hear him anyway. I didn’t want to.

I only really opened my ears to his words when I felt his eyes on my bowed head. “L?” he says.
“It’s Lucy, today,” I replied.
“Lucy, have you been listening?”
I didn’t reply. He knew I hadn’t been.
He explained some technical saga that was going on inside of me. He used heaps of long words which although I’d heard before, I did’t understand. I didn’t understand anything.
“What are you actually saying?” I asked, not sure whether I wanted to know the answer.
“Lucy,” he said. It sounded grim. “I’m afraid...”
He looked at Dad. He looked at me. He looked at a poster telling people how to wash their hands, in both Maori and English. He looked at the floor.
“Your leukaemia has come back. We’re putting you back on chemotherapy on Monday.”
And then the worst two words you can hear a doctor say to you.
“I’m sorry.”

I really enjoyed the first chapter of this novel, you hear the stories about people with cancer and their deaths and the saddness of it but I like how the narrator is the girl with cancer. I can feel how she already has the gut feeling that she does have cancer again, but you need to work on your character development more. Yes I thought it was good but not great, which is what we want. I liked the way the first chapter was pretty short because it's easier to read, but you might need to add more in order to help with the development of the main character.

First of all the introductory paragraph seems a little weak when you look at the main theme of the story which is cancer and this girl Lucy fighting through it. Try to add more emotion from the Lucy, you have to make sure not to add to much but also like you have now not to much. Describe the feeling of her not caring in a more deep and eye opening way, sort of like when you write a persuasive essay.

That was the main thing I had to say about this chapter is the character developement, believe me I know how hard it is to get the perfect amount in your first chapter but I see great potential in this novel so we need to try and make it as perfect as we can. If you have any questions about this review or anything else I would be happy to attempt to answer them! Thanks for posting I truly enjoyed this piece, it was sad and heartbreaking yet made you want to read more!
Peace,
Snickerdooly
P.S- I'll keep a lookout for chapter 2!

My name is L Phoenix. I am 15 years old. I am writing this from a hospital bed. Have I got your attention? Good. Let’s begin.

This beginning sentence was a little cliché for me. Plus when you ask if you have my attention… well… then you kind of loose it. You should strive to catch my attention with your description and writing, not with specific words like that.

The only reason I can think of is that I want to clarify that my life has meant something.

Kind of an awkward sentence, and I don’t know if clarify is the right word for this. Who is she trying to clarify this to? Does someone already doubt that her life had meaning? Maybe say something like, “The only reason I can think of is that I want to prove that my life had meaning.” Or “The only thing I can think of is that I want to show that there was a purpose to what I did.” My opinion, I just feel it should be different.

this book is written by a girl who likes the sound of a pen scratching on paper.

I liked this sentence. Not because I am a girl, but because I too like the sound of a pen scratching on paper

6 months ago it was October. It was a Friday, not yet summer.

Say “Six months ago” not “6 months ago.” And the whole “it was October. It was a Friday” is way to repetitive and too many “it was”. Try to combine these sentences, like “Six months ago on a drizzly Friday afternoon I sat in class.” Or something to this extent that helps it all flow better.

As I sat in the car, rigid with nerves, I thought about a lot of things.

Random jump for me because we were in school and all of a sudden we were in the car. What happened? How did we get there?

When I was going to die.

Kind of a morbid thought for a 15 year old. Not saying it isn’t valid but this seems kind of an extreme thing for her to be pondering. I know you go on later to say people don’t think you should be so negative, and as a reader I felt the same way when there is little background for me to sympathize with you.

But as they got closer to where their car was parked, which happened to be two cars away from ours, a particularly observant person could see the stick-insect looking wrists that poked out from the girl’s oversized jumper, the stitches at the scalp of her auburn ‘hair’ and the snail-track tear stains on her mum’s face.

This is a LONG sentence. Please shorten it up a bit.

The paintings of wildlife that were so out of place in this sterilised labyrinth,

Word should be sterilized

That suited me perfectly fine. I still remember the feeling of nerves- it was as if a discontent ocean was sloshing round in my stomach.

Should be “around”

He poured some into my hand and I crunched the brown ones up in my mouth as I played with the others, making patterns with their colours, and watched the second hand of the clock tick on.

Should be “colors”

Anyways use spell check, it does wonders for simply spelling mistakes.

Not a bad start. I understand that you are trying to create this “L” girl with a darker personality. She is beat down and depressed because she is dying and feels like there is little hope. I got that. It works sometimes, and other times it feels a little force instead of natural. I would encourage you to let it happen as it goes. Develop and play with her more. What does she think about this disease? What does she think when she sees healthy kids?

Also i would play around with the dad a little more. He doesn't really do much and is just kind of... there for the sake of driving L around. How does he feel? Is he nervous? Does he have pain in his eyes that he tries to hide from her? Has she seen him crying ever? Or does he pretend like everything is going to be okay and jokes about the whole thing? I just feel like her father should have more of a reaction in the story. He isn't the main character, but he is still affected by the events that are taking place.

Anyways good job, hope this helps!

Thanks, you two, for the great constructive feedback! I edited it a bit and will keep working on it, obviously that was just a rough draft.
I really appreciate you saying the things you like as well as the stuff you didn't like.
Some of the words you corrected me on can be spelled differently depending- for example sterilised and colour are how we spell them in New Zealand. I know it's different in America but I think you'll understand if I don't change them?
Thanks again!

Hahaha yea if you spell them differently in New Zealand then don't bother to change them. I wasn't aware of that

Oh my God! That poor girl. I feel sorry for her. Your writing had that effect on me. You seem to amaze me every time. Do carry on with this story. I'm a girl that likes adventure and fantasy but something about your story just caught my eye. Now I want to read more of it. I find it very interesting. I would definitely want to know what becomes of this poor girl. I like her name. L Phoenix. You're creative with that and you seem to like the word phoenix a lot.
I would suggest you change the way you've begun your story. It threw me off a bit. I agree with snickerdooly. It would be an excellent beginning if you describe the girl's emotions. Anyway, I'm a fan of yours. I'll keep an eye on your new posts and hopefully review them as well.

Wow. Your really good at describing things. It was like I could see your words in my mind. I really liked that, it was very interesting and the end was a cliffhanger (sort of) I can't wait for the next chapter!