Another Excerpt From Dream Catcher

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Hey guys ^^ Shina here ;)
Last edited by Angels-Symphony on Sat Dec 26, 2009 7:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself into one.

The writer, when he is also an artist, is someone who admits what others don't dare reveal.




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That’s the new girl, they whisper, what a loser. Their murmurs blow around the room like bubbles, popping secrets and then vanishing.


Try italicizing the whispering parts, so it's like: That's the new girl, they whisper, what a loser I also dislike the analogy to bubbles, I don't know, it just doesn't work here.

I square my jaw
You square your jaw? What the heck? I don't know what that means.
An aisle splits the classroom into two sides, and the desks into two rows.


Sitting in the front are your the typical teacher’s pets: students with perfect postures and textbooks opened wide to follow along with the instructor.


What do you mean by textbooks open wide? I didn't know textbooks could be opened wide, I thought they were a one-width only kind of deal.


What are you doing here? Their stares are empty, like their words.


“Can I sit here?” I swallow hard. The boy keeps smacking his gum and throws his feet on the bench.


Who is the boy? Since when do we sit on benches in schools?

“There’s no room for you here,” a girl in the back row points out with a wry smile.

“I know,” I mutter, hands clenched at my sides.

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrow pokes up. I let out a rough sigh.

“I said I know.” Her face tightens.

“Don’t you dare talk like that to me,” she snaps. “Do you think any of us want a tramp like you at our school?”


I've never been a new kid, but I can garuntee (however you spell it) that the students are NEVER that openly mean. And if they were, a teacher would intervene.

She turns to the boy with an elbow propped up sitting next to her. I didn’t notice him earlier, but now that I look at him, I’m nearly breathless. His ice blue eyes are serious and unsettlingly familiar, one shade lighter than the other girl’s. He brushes a strand of hair, a pale blond color, out of his face and I can see the several silver cuffs and piercings on his ear.


Silver cuffs? Huh? And he sounds too attractive to be real.

“Yes, commander,” she sputters


What the heck?

Invisibility, invisibility, I plead.


“Will you move over?” There’s no point in being polite anymore, not when all of your classmates are assholes forcing you to ask permission to sit in the corner with the class loser and no one else.


The profanity and the run on sentence makes this sound really informal.
“Do I have to?” The boy groans, his exhale fogging up the thick black glasses he’s thumbing. He looks like a dorkier version of Harry Potter with the white tap wrapped around the nose and his mousy hair.


Dorkier? Really?

“This seat’s warm,” I squeal, but no one cares. They continue chucking crumpled pieces of paper at my head, cackling at their exceptional aim.


Why is everyone so goddamn mean? jeeeez.
I saw her grinding on Drew this morning, more muttering, just because she’s new she thinks she can hog all the attention. What a whore! I bury my face in my bag, eyes burning with tears.


Jeez! Meanies! And honestly, why would she grind on a guy? I thought grinding was a dance move when the dancers literally "grind" against eachother, but maybe I'm behind the times.



Sorry if my comments seemed bitchy, I call it constructive criticism :)
stay gold, ponyboy




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Thanks for the review, Lena ^^ It wasn't bitchy at all xD It's actually mild in comparison to reviews some people give around here.

I should probably clarify those points you jotted down, there.

Those parts are italicized, they just don't show up when you review them, apparently.

The reason Asha calls Kaleb "commander" is something explained earlier in the story.

Benches are used because it's not a typical American school.

And lastly, the kids are mean because it's not your usual school. It's an boarding school for students with special abilities.

Now that that's cleared up, more criticism? :P

-Shina
You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself into one.

The writer, when he is also an artist, is someone who admits what others don't dare reveal.




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Hey there hon! :D I'm so glad you posted another excerpt of this! The more I read of Dream Catcher, the more I want to see! I thought this was a very interesting excerpt; I'm not entirely sure how it fits in with what I've read. It seems to have a very different feel from the beginning, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. I'm just going to give a few comments, kay?

The class snickers, their narrowed eyes spearing my back. That’s the new girl, they whisper, what a loser. Their murmurs blow around the room like bubbles, popping secrets and then vanishing.


Oo, bubbles! That is an interesting simile, but does it really fit the mood you're trying to convey?

I square my jaw and suppress the urge the return a witty comment. Nodding, I walk to the back. An aisle split’s the classroom into two sides, and the desks in two rows. Sitting in the front are your typical teacher’s pets: students with perfect postures and textbooks opened wide to follow along with the instructor. As I pass, their focus slips from their notes and onto me.

What are you doing here? Their stares are empty like their words. I meet the last three rows and pause.


First, I think split's should be splits. Interesting image of the classroom. Also, how can their words be like their stares if they're not saying anything? :? Are they saying anything? The italicized part sounds more like a collective thought...

“Taken.” His bubble bursts and he sucks it back into his mouth. The people around him shuffle their belongings, tossing whatever’s available on the leftover spots.


Bubble! Nothing wrong with this part, specifically. But the fact that you used bubbles in the simile above and repeated it here led me to think it had some deeper meaning regarding the setting. But the absence of it throughout the rest makes me think otherwise....
So, if you decide to keep that simile, keep in mind how repetition puts readers on the highest setting of the theme/metaphor-detector.

“Don’t you dare talk like that to me,” she snaps. “Do you think any of us want a tramp like you at our school?”

“Shut up.”

“I told you to…” She freezes, realizing I wasn’t the one who spoke. “Kaleb?”


I had to reread this two or three times to figure out it was Kaleb telling the girl to shut up. Maybe make that a little clearer?

She turns to the boy with an elbow propped up sitting next to her. I didn’t notice him earlier, but now that I look at him, I’m nearly breathless. His ice blue eyes are serious and unsettlingly familiar, one shade lighter than the other girl’s. He brushes a strand of hair, a pale blond color, out of his face and I can see the several silver cuffs and piercings on his ear.


Like Lena, this part struck me as a little over the top, describing appearance wise. More reaction from your main character might help. Or just adding this description in a little bit later.

“Will you move over?” There’s no point in being polite anymore, not when all of your classmates are assholes forcing you to ask permission to sit in the corner with the class loser and no one else.


Maybe, this is just me, but your main character is so calm and takes this all so well up to this point. It surprises me she'd be complaining about the 'class loser' when she's fighting so hard to take the abuse well.

I burn his edges to a crisp with my glare until he finally scoots over and mumbles why does the loser have to sit with me? Hearing this is like a slap in the face from irony, but I take the seat anyway, trying to keep my distance from Harry Potter.


Haha, I like this part!

“This seat’s warm,” I squeal, but no one cares. They continue chucking crumpled pieces of paper at my head, cackling at their exceptional aim.


Maybe I'm missing some pieces of information about the school, but this confused me a little... why is she squealing over a warm seat?

I saw her grinding on Drew this morning, more muttering, just because she’s new she thinks she can hog all the attention. What a whore! I bury my face in my bag, eyes burning with tears.


Great ending, girl! You expressed concern over the italicized lines, but I didn't really have a problem with them. The last sentence is especially poignant.

I liked this, dear! I'm very curious how it fits in with the story! Your main character has a very distinctive mindset and this setting she enters into sounds very interesting. Very nice job here! Keep up the great work! If you have any questions, feel free to PM me!
~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas



You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.
— Anne Lamott