Young Writers Society

ClimberSquirrel wrote:She sighed, wishing there was someone to ease the long hours, someone to laugh and play with in spare time.

ClimberSquirrel wrote: She reached the door and stepped inside.

ClimberSquirrel wrote:She grabed the milk pail and stool and headed out to the barn.

ClimberSquirrel wrote:This is only part of the story, I haven't finished it yet. This is also my first story so please critique as much as needed.

Vashoa stared out over the vast, empty nothingness she called home. She had lived on the prairies of South Dakota since she was a baby, all fifteen hard years of her life. She started back to the old, ramshackle farmhouse where she dwelled with her ma and grandma. They couldn't do all the chores themselves, not with grandma almost ninety-five and her ma with a baby on the way. There was plowing, planting, trading, milking, and feeding the animals to be done. Sighing, she wished there was someone to ease the long hours, someone to laugh and play with in spare time. But there was no one. The nearest town was a days journey away, she couldn't abandon her duties just to talk and see sights. Pausing before stepping inside, her thoughts started wandering.Shaking herself, she stepped inside and was instantly met with the smell of cookies baking. There was no time to enjoy the smells though. She grabbed the milk pail and stool and headed out to the barn. She settled herself down to the steady plink,plink of the milk hitting the pail. When the pail was full, she lugged it back to the house and pored some of it into the churn and skimmed the rest.

Instantly, she was met with the smell of bread.

She settled herself down to the steady plink, plink of the milk hitting the pail.

Unless she counted dreams, she hadn't seen him since she was seven. Until the burial.

But pa hadn't.

But pa hadn't.

hadn't what? "Come?"

Spring had come at last, much to everybody's relief. But pa hadn't.

Vashoa stared out over the large space[s],[/s] - empty, except for some shrubs and rivers she called home.

Vashoa started back to the old, ramshackle farmhouse, where she dwelt with her ma and grandma.

She sighed, wishing there was someone to ease the long hours[s],[/s]; someone to laugh and play with in her spare time. But there was no one. The nearest town was a day's journey away[s],[/s]; she couldn't abandon her duties just to talk and see sights. Reaching the door, she paused to collect her thoughts. Then, grabbing the cold handle, she pushed into the house.

It lasted three months[s],[/s] - so terrible, she couldn't see a lantern a foot away. Spring had come at last, much to everybody's relief. But pa hadn't. Two years later, another hunter [s]had[/s] found him, dead, rifle in hand, with bear wounds on him. Ever since then, Vashoa, who was his "hunting helper", had hunted to feed the family. Finishing the butter, she put it on a platter and salted it, then put it in the icebox. Time to feed the animals[s],[/s] and gather the eggs.

Pausing before stepping inside, her thoughts started [s]wandering[/s]to wander.Shaking herself, she stepped inside and was instantly met with the smell of cookies baking. There was no time to enjoy the smells, though. (Was this the only new part? I think it is. Haha.)

Why, hello there! First of all, thanks so much for requesting a review! I have a goal to reach 75 by March 16th.

Overall, I thought it was a pretty interesting piece. I'm just wondering where the plot is going with this. Will there be a new friend? Romance? Just a tale of her troubles on the farm? Well, I guess the reader should be wondering this at this point of the story. Haha.

As mentioned before, you do use "she" to begin sentences a lot. Perhaps include her name just a tad more, and try to reword some of the sentences.

I'm sorry that the most I could offer was this; I'm really mostly a grammar freak. Haha.

Keep me posted on this and thanks again!

Love,
Music.

Vashoa stared out over the large space, empty, except for some shrubs and rivers, she called home. She had lived on the prairies of South Dakota since she was a baby, all fifteen hard years of her life.

Vashoa started back to the old, ramshackle farmhouse where she dwelt with her ma and grandma.

They couldn't do all the chores themselves, not with grandma almost ninety-five and ma with a baby on the way.

She sighed, wishing there was someone to ease the long hours, someone to laugh and play with in spare time.

She grabbed the milk pail and stool and headed out to the barn.

When the pail was full, she lugged it back to the house and pored some of it into the churn and skimmed the rest.

Two years later, another hunter had found him, dead, rifle in hand, with bear wounds on him.

Ever since then, Vashoa, who was his "hunting helper", had hunted to feed the family.

Vashoa stared out over the large space, empty, [nix this comma, dear] except for some shrubs and rivers she called home. She had lived on the prairies of South Dakota since she was a baby, all fifteen hard years of her life. [If it was all her life, why don't you say 'since she was born' instead of 'since she was a baby'? What you have makes it seem like she moved there when she was a baby. But, really, this is just a nitpick.]

Vashoa started back to the old, ramshackle farmhouse where she dwelt ['dwelt' seems a bit stuffy and sophisticated for a farm gril living on the prarie, if you ask me] with her ma and grandma. They couldn't do all the chores themselves, not with grandma almost ninety-five and ma with a baby on the way [95 is very old for a grandmother whose daughter is pregnant, just warning you. You might want to bring it down to 75 at least, for realistic purposes]. There was plowing, planting, trading, milking, churning, and feeding the animals to be done. She sighed, wishing there was someone to ease the long hours, someone to laugh and play with in spare time. But there was no one. The nearest town was a days [day's] journey away, [semi-colon here] she couldn't abandon her duties just to talk and see sights. Reaching the door, she paused to collect her thoughts. Then, grabbing the cold handle, she [s]pushed[/s] walked into the house.

Instantly, Vashoa was met with the smell of bread. Ma must be baking already, she thought. She grabbed the milk pail and stool and headed out to the barn. She settled herself down to the steady plink of the milk hitting the pail. When the pail was full, she lugged it back to the house and pored some of it into the churn and skimmed the rest.

You have an awful lot of 'ands' in this paragraph, methinks. Perhaps break some of these long sentences up with semi-colons or even just plain commas to avoid falling back on a conjunction so often. Of course, this would mean rephrasing a few things.

Pumping the churn up and down, Vashoa tried to remember the last time she had seen her pa. Unless she counted dreams, she hadn't seen him since she was seven, after the burial. Her pa had gone hunting, when an unexpected blizzard blew through. It lasted three months, so terrible, [replace this comma with a 'that'] she couldn't see a lantern a foot away. Spring had come at last, much to everybody's relief. But pa hadn't. [My favorite line, hun. It's wonderfully simple yet very effective.] Two years later, another hunter had found him, dead, rifle in hand, with bear wounds on him. Ever since then, Vashoa, who was his "hunting helper", had hunted to feed the family. [Start a new paragraph here, for dramatic effect (and grammatical purposes).] Finishing the butter, she put it on a platter, [s]and[/s] salted it, then put it in the icebox. Time to feed the animals, [no comma] and gather the eggs.

Vashoa stared out over the large space, empty, except for some shrubs and rivers she called home. She had lived on the prairies of South Dakota since she was a baby, all fifteen hard years of her life.

Vashoa stared out over the large space, empty, except for some pitiful shrubs and rivers she called home. She had lived on the open prairies of South Dakota since she was a baby, all fifteen hard years of her life.

She settled herself down to the steady plink[Notice the italics] of the milk hitting the pail. When the pail was full, she lugged it back to the house and pored some of it into the churn and skimmed the rest.


Pumping the churn up and down, Vashoa tried to remember the last time she had seen her pa. Unless she counted dreams, she hadn't seen him since she was seven, after the burial. [okay... why would she think about this if she knows he is dead. Usually you would resume with the memory, him hunting or something, but you just cut off - do you know what I mean?]Her pa had gone hunting, when an unexpected blizzard blew through. It lasted three months, so terrible, she couldn't see a lantern a foot away. [Hm, I haven't been in a blizzard, but I'm pretty sure that it wouldn't be that bad constantly for 3 whole months. Also, you shouldn't have 'so terrible' in there, because it is out of character, because it is a narrative, not her thoughts!]

Vashoa started back to the old, ramshackle farmhouse where she dwelt with her ma and grandma. They couldn't do all the chores themselves, not with grandma almost ninety-five and ma with a baby on the way.

There was plowing, planting, trading, milking, churning, and feeding the animals to be done. She sighed, wishing there was someone to ease the long hours, someone to laugh and play with in spare time. But there was no one. The nearest town was a days journey away, she couldn't abandon her duties just to talk and see sights.

Ma must be baking already, she thought.

She grabbed the milk pail and stool and headed out to the barn. She settled herself down to the steady plink of the milk hitting the pail. When the pail was full, she lugged it back to the house and pored some of it into the churn and skimmed the rest.

Two years later, another hunter had found him, dead, rifle in hand, with bear wounds on him.