Young Writers Society

[DELETED]

Wow! This is AMAZING! I didn't really pick up any major errors and the mood created from this piece of writing is so amazing! It kept me captivated all the way to the end which wasn't a long time because your piece is quite short which I think is the only downfall. But even so, it's so incredible! The atmosphere is so sad and incredibly strong, I love the effect you've created.

But the spaces between her bones echoed with a fading force

My favourite line!! The first time I read it I was like 'Wooowww!!!', so great job! Keep writing and I'll be sure to check out more of your works.

I'll review this soon.

Great piece. You have a way with imagery that allows you to sustain the very morose mood and tone.

I didn't like the "gray, gray, gray, gray" part because I think that you could better describe the grayness than just state its existence. The repetition is a good, but I would rather read a repeated description that is both similar and different.

Also, I wish your piece was longer and I wish I knew more about the girl and what she sounds like.

Good job.
-Adam

Let me begin with a sound bite borrowed from Capote, That isn't writing at all, it's typing. An observation he famously made about Kerouac's On The Road. His dismissal, of course, regards the writing process. Knowing that writing isn't a first draft, nor is it single stream of conciousness but rather a multi-layered account, worked then reworked -- was the basis for his criticism. It's no secret the two had contradictory takes on the conception and execution of writing, but neither was wrong, nor right. I would say Capote makes a compelling point that all aspiring authors should consider.

Your style lends itself to some poetic merit, until it is delicately pressed and the lovely metaphors you stack up come tumbling down. You need to consider exactly what you are trying to say, have a clear scene in your head and strive to reach a description which conveys the scene or the ideas. You fail here, because you jerk the reader around, and at times I wonder if you have subscribed to a pseudo-poetic style as licence to rampantly coat on the imagery, whether or not it is important or consistent.

Though, perhaps there is simply a disconnect. Perhaps you have the clear images available but you can't find the right description, so you settle for romanticized metaphors and miss-use literary techniques.

thatoddkid wrote:I didn't want her to die during the winter. But the spaces between her bones echoed with a fading force(What are you saying?), and everything trembled, thin legs unstable as she walked. Her hand in yours, you holding it as tight as possible just to try and keep her in the purple of the cosmos, but her hand would shake anyway, and you could never hold it tight enough, could never stop the pieces from falling apart.

When I read prose of this nature it usually takes a few seconds or a reread for the image and the scene to settle in my mind, but despite how I probe I can't conjure much of an image. Don't get me wrong, it's floral and draped with bright flags, but it's smoke and mirrors and like I said, tumbles with a gentle nudge. Now the green part is the strength of the intro, for me it is the only line that conveys a clear image. The part about holding her hand isn't bad either.

This happens for most of the piece, you build something then you waste it.

Now for your style in general. Let's assume you achieve what you set out to achieve and the literary gloss isn't so overwhelming and the images aren't so ill-constructed, you will still have something of an issue.

Sentimentality/Melodrama

Make a consorted effort to avoid ranging too far toward sentimentality and same goes with melodrama. Even YA authors
are raked for stumbling into melodrama. Your work is underpinned with hackeneyed sentimental fuss. You build conflicts and characters that exist on a bedrock of Melodrama. It will be difficult for you to adapt, I feel it is you, or perhaps what you read. And I mean that in a nice way, you lace your work with these feelings you harbour to the point it becomes overbearing. It's not subtle, and the message is lost because readers are nauseated by the gush. I know it seems harsh, and I wouldn't make this point if I didn't see potential in your writing.

Rein it in, do away with the sentiment and use your skills to exhibit an insight. Write a scene, but before you do, have a clear insight that you want to share with the reader. Don't set out to write a compelling story, not yet, but as a practice write a scene and don't apply the literary gloss until you are confident you have a story to tell.

JP

okay, I'm still pondering on the last statement but I always love the way you write things.
I actually feel relieved that you did post sth again and you haven't left for good, but I was so sad I couldn't read Toy Gun before you deleted it. :C

And about the work, I think the words day and gray seem to repeat a little too much at times. But maybe that's meant to be so. Hope you stay well, and don't worry- there are loads of lifeless people around. You're never alone, almost never.

Way to totally kill my soul with jealousy.

You are excellent, love. This might get an actual review from me later, if I don't suffocate under my piles of papers. If it doesn't, remind me with some verbal abuse and we can talk privately.

<3

Hi,

I'm so excited that you have something new up. I like it a lot and as with almost everything you write, I feel it could be something really great but there were faults. Umm, reading it literally, there are three people, a girl, the narrator and the 'you'. The girl is sick, maybe depressed, I dunno and she might die. It's winter, it's cold and everyone's a bit sadder than they usually are. So, this girl leaves the 'you' and goes to the narrator and they hug and cuddle in this awful, melancholy sort of way and she reveals that she's never been kissed. Then, we as the readers, all assume she dies. Then, in the metaphoric sense, this changes complete-


...I gotta go. I'll be back to finish this later though.

Hey,

Well, good evening. I have to say I like your style. I picked a fabulous time to read this, because at this time I was listening to Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne. Perfect, huh? I have two nitpicks though.

I didn't want her to die during the winter. But the spaces between her bones echoed with a fading force, and everything trembled, thin legs unstable as she walked. Her hand in yours, you holding it as tight as possible just to try and keep her in the purple of the cosmos, but her hand would shake anyway, and you could never hold it tight enough, could never stop the pieces from falling apart.

You switched POV's. That's a no-no. Big time. Never do that. It is sloppy, no one likes it, and it does you no good. I almost stopped reading. Thankfully, I didn't. Another thing that got me is when you just repeated gray. I get it, it's gray. A lot. Otherwise, it was fantastic and I loved it!

Farewell,
-A.

Leaves very much to the imagination, whihc isn't necessarily a good thing. It could have used detail. This I say with respect

Wow. There's much to be said about this piece, despite its length.

Alright. First, the negatives. The "gray, gray, gray..." thing was almost a turn-off for me, because repetition works only to a point, before it just becomes overtly redundant. Also, despite being written in first person, there were two instances where you used second person:

I didn't want her to die during the winter. But the spaces between her bones echoed with a fading force, and everything trembled, thin legs unstable as she walked. Her hand in yours, you holding it as tight as possible just to try and keep her in the purple of the cosmos, but her hand would shake anyway, and you could never hold it tight enough, could never stop the pieces from falling apart.

Its white tendrils snaked through her eyes, and when she looked at you they spilt her eyes into islands of diamond blue.

(Also here, you wrote spilt, when you meant to write split)

Now, I realized that there's a chance you did that on purpose, and the "you" you were referring to is another character, a father, a husband, etc. If not, then it's a glaring distraction from an otherwise beautifully written story.

Now, the positives! Your imagery was wonderful, though the intent of every simile and metaphor wasn't exactly clear. It was a story that hooked me from the very powerful first line to the very powerful last line. Once again, it was slightly disjointed and vague, but I think that style matches the situation of the characters. I doubt anything makes sense for them at this point in their lives. By far, my favorite lines were:

But they'd said she wasn't worth the poison it would take to save her life, and I imagined the tumor in her brain like a second heart, but it took in life and never sent any out.

But I didn't love her. I did love her, but I didn't love her. And I think that was the last time she cried.

Poetic and beautiful enough to send tremors down your spine and tears to your eyes. A wonderful tale that expresses a situation many people experience. Beautiful.

sORRY DOUBLE POSTED

noth

Hello


I appreciate this has already been highlighted, but I must agree a couple of sentences confuse me! However, there are places where I’m reading thinking this is seriously impressive. You clearly demonstrate that you have a huge understanding and range of words, but sometimes I think a simple description could be better used. Overall this is really good, I’ve also read some of your other works and think you have a lot of talent.

Keep writing! I look forward to reading more of your work!

Ben

I realize this is only one review in a sea of reviews, and that anything I have to say now will only, probably, be a repeat of what everyone else has stated, but I wanted you to have this review simply because of the beauty in which you write. The way you capture so fluidly without second guessing. And this is fluidity. Poetic exuberance.

Your way with words astounds me often, and the maturity in which you sculpt creates this sort of foreboding that makes even the saddest or most tragic of emotions glazed over in shades of colour. I hear grey but I see the blue in her eyes. The brown hard-wood floors. The beige of her all too large nightgown, when some of the things I picture I not stated here. Not even mentioned.

Because, when you write, you make things feel whole. There are no overly bearing descriptions or info-dumps. You sculpt by taking everything as an emotion. As if ever piece of furniture or every sallow marking on her face is just another reminder of what the story entails. What the story contains.

Honestly, this might be one of my favourite works by you. One of my favourite works period. It is strong because it is truthful and shameful and sad. It is beautiful because you write with such a raw, unrefined passion that the words seem to meld and blend together as if they were made for each other.

I used to think you'd make a fantastic poet. Now, I don't know. You need that space and time to be able to capture and ensnare as you do so often with your prose. It would almost be a shame to see you taking a turn for a different medium.

I realize this is barely review-worthy, but there is something about how you write that astounds me. And astounds many. Its in your stars, kid. Writing is in your blood.

~Walker