Young Writers Society

That summer was the beginning. It was when I began. Began to listen, to see, to feel. To love. Music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy. All intensified by the heat, the giddy escapism that came with the end of school, the freedom between the beginnings of July and September, three months that stretched ahead without end. Things usually end with an ending, but really it is the beginning of a new thing that is the ending of the previous. However, I rush ahead.


I sat, unseeing, on my bed, staring with blank eyes out of the window. Absentmindedly biting at my nails, wondering when my life would start, whether someone would appear this summer to take me away from the mundane village existence that I lived.


"Daisy?" Mum's voice came from the kitchen; her uncanny knack for being heard anywhere in the house was one that I didn't share. "Could you go and check that the chickens have enough water? Your brother was meant to do it, but he's disappeared on his bike."


Great. Feeding the chickens. It pretty much summed up the previous eighteen years and four months or so of my conscious life. Knowing my luck, it would undoubtedly be the soundtrack, along with the generic tinny pop that blasted from the radio, to my so called "Summer of Fun". Sighing, I blinked, and the cloud of woe lifted from my eyes. I looked out at the garden, slightly overgrown and glorious in it promiscuity. The flowers sprawled in the sun, bursting with colour, beauty, confidence. Traits I wished I had. God, I was so weird! No wonder it was unlikely I would be invited to anyone's mansion/yacht/villa, delete as appropriate. I was, quite simply, too odd.


I stomped downstairs, mourning the loss of any previous hopes for myself. Some unknown power had obviously preordained my summer to be that of a proper country bumpkin; I might as well mow the lawn, or do some weeding, once I'd seen to the chickens.


"Thanks, Dais, you're a real help. Unlike your useless brother!" She pulled me into a hug, and at that moment I resented her. For thinking that this was what I wanted, a quiet life in a Cotswolds village where I had no friends and was miles from anywhere of significance. For thinking I was still a child.


"So, now that you've left school, are you still going to wear your "uniform"?" she teased, thwarting my effort at a paltry escape. Another annoyance: just because I wore the same clothes as everyone else in my year didn't mean I was trying to fit in; I just liked the clothes. Was it that hard to understand?


I headed out with a grunt. Childish but necessary.

***

This is only the beginning. Do I leave it on this thread, since I'm not sure how long it'll be?

Any reviews would be welcome...

Hello! I'm gonna review your story today! I'm Nike. The bold red are my comments.

TearsOnYourFace wrote:That summer was the beginning. It was when I began. Began to listen, to see, to feel. To love. Music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy. All intensified by the heat, the giddy escapism that came with the end of school, the freedom between the beginnings of July and September, three months that stretched ahead without end. Things usually end with an ending, but really it is the beginning of a new thing that is the ending of the previous. However, I rush ahead.
This part was too descriptive. I was like "Wow a lot to read here! it could be shorter!" Just make this part short and sweet.


I sat, unseeing, on my bed, staring with blank eyes out of the window. Absentmindedly biting at my nails, wondering when my life would start, whether someone would appear this summer to take me away from the mundane village existence that I lived.

I did not like this. The "I sat, unseeing, on my bed..." it made really no sense. I was confused when you said "unseeing" it sounds better this way "Blindly" because "unseeing" sounds, well, scientific and this is a Romantic story. Overall this sounds too smart for a romance.

A lot of your story was written way too descriptive and some of the words I didn't even know what they meant! But I loved the plot and the whole idea in the beginning. Keep Writing!
Nike

Hey there, TOYF. Welcome to YWS, by the way. I'll give you a general review, as your grammar's sensible enough.

You should think about varying your sentence structure. Nike calls it "too descriptive", but it seems to me that the problem is with the pace. Your writing feels like treacle at the moment, with all of the sentences that lack conjunctions and are just one clause after another, on and on, never stopping - much like that. The reader trips whenever there's a slightly odd sentence, and you have this structure, which isn't necessarily grammatically sound, over and over again. If you think about commas as pauses, I'm basically having to pause up to four times a sentence. The first paragraph was a particular issue.

The problem then becomes that your writing is difficult to read and seems to slop rather than flow. What drove your choice to write in first person, by the way? Judging by this piece, you might be more comfortable in third person, where you can describe to your heart's content without having to worry too much about your narrator's voice. At the moment, your narrator sounds pretentious and overdone, rather than like an actual teenager. Phrases like "thwarting my effort at a paltry escape" don't belong in a modern story. Your style just seems out of place, and again, difficult to read.

The mistake you're making is assuming that a good vocabulary and as much description as you can afford will automatically make your story great. I know that because that's exactly my problem, and I wrote an entire novella in a very similar style to your writing here. My English teacher took one look at my 3 opening pages of filler and told me that whilst some writers could pull that off, like James Joyce, "You are 13. You are not James Joyce." I couldn't understand it and still don't entirely, but you only have to look at the kind of popular fiction that's out there to see that description isn't everything.

I think you have some beautiful images here, but it's verging on purple prose. Teenagers are very good at purple prose, apparently. If you want a definition, I think TV Tropes does it best. "There are times within the life of any teller of tales in which they are faced with a most dire situation: the writing, while not lacking in such delightful virtues as a sturdy plot or rich characterization, is supremely dry and uninteresting to read."

Fixing it isn't too hard. Hide your thesaurus, first of all. Read aloud your piece and think very carefully about what you can afford to keep and what you don't need. Even better, post in Will Review For Food and ask a reviewer to help you out. I'm not saying get rid of all those nice words you use, but distribute them evenly. Don't use them all in such a tight space. The problem is getting over it completely; I think, personally, that it's a natural process, and the more you write, the easier it will become to avoid. To be honest, you'd only very mildly be in the purple prose bracket - it's more important right now that you get some proper sentences in there rather than the rambling ones that open this.

I hope this helped even a little bit, because I struggle to explain it. At least my point about the sentences makes sense, even if the purple prose part is still a bit hazy. Also, don't be discouraged, because it's obvious from this that you can really write, and I hope to see some more of your work around the forums.

- Jet.

TearsOnYourFace wrote:That summer was the beginning. It was when I began. Began to listen, to see, to feel. To love. Music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy. All intensified by the heat, the giddy escapism that came with the end of school, the freedom between the beginnings of July and September, three months that stretched ahead without end. Things usually end with an ending, but really it is the beginning of a new thing that is the ending of the previous. However, I rush ahead.
"Yes, you do. Not a great into, could be better... I'm confused about it... how does this relate to her summer??"

I sat, unseeing, on my bed, staring with blank eyes out of the window. Absentmindedly biting at my nails, wondering when my life would start, whether someone would appear this summer to take me away from the mundane village existence that I lived.
"where does she live? You said in a village... what time period then? I thought it was the 21st century but I'm not sure anymore..."

"Daisy?" Mum's voice came from the kitchen; her uncanny knack for being heard anywhere in the house was one that I didn't share. "Could you go and check that the chickens have enough water? Your brother was meant to do it, but he's disappeared on his bike."
"disappered is a strong word.. that seems like he's gone forever not for a few minutes... any other words you can use?"

Great. Feeding the chickens. It pretty much summed up the previous eighteen years and four months or so of my conscious life. Knowing my luck, it would undoubtedly be the soundtrack, along with the generic tinny pop that blasted from the radio, to my so called "Summer of Fun". Sighing, I blinked, and the cloud of woe lifted from my eyes. I looked out at the garden, slightly overgrown and glorious in it promiscuity. The flowers sprawled in the sun, bursting with colour, beauty, confidence. Traits I wished I had. God, I was so weird! No wonder it was unlikely I would be invited to anyone's mansion/yacht/villa, delete as appropriate. I was, quite simply, too odd.
"I LOVE this passage!!!!"

I stomped downstairs, mourning the loss of any previous hopes for myself. Some unknown power had obviously preordained my summer to be that of a proper country bumpkin; I might as well mow the lawn, or do some weeding, once I'd seen to the chickens.


"Thanks, Dais, you're a real help. Unlike your useless brother!" She pulled me into a hug, and at that moment I resented her. For thinking that this was what I wanted, a quiet life in a Cotswolds village where I had no friends and was miles from anywhere of significance. For thinking I was still a child.
"thank you for the setting, I would want it earlier though"

"So, now that you've left school, are you still going to wear your "uniform"?" she teased, thwarting my effort at a paltry escape. Another annoyance: just because I wore the same clothes as everyone else in my year didn't mean I was trying to fit in; I just liked the clothes. Was it that hard to understand?

"cute!!"


I headed out with a grunt. Childish but necessary.

***

This is only the beginning. Do I leave it on this thread, since I'm not sure how long it'll be?

Any reviews would be welcome...

I liked this piece!! The narrative was enjoyable and the style. But I really want to know more about her.
Sure she's odd and likes parties and hates feeding chickens, but where's her descriptions?? Does she hate her brother for forgetting to feed the chickens? What does she and her mom look like? etc... I loved it but I want to see more!
CHOW FOR NOW,
sionarama

Oh, I loved this, it was super cute and made me smile I love the way you write - short and sweet, not too much and not too little - a lot of people might not like that but I think that sometimes it's a good thing. Since you've already got some great reviews already, I'm sure you know what needs improving in terms of making this piece even better - take those points into consideration and best of luck with the rest

*coco

Hey there! I'm happy to review your work. What i'm going to do is re-print your story, and I'll list my specific comments in parentheses as we go, and then I'll give you overall suggestions.

TearsOnYourFace wrote:That summer was the beginning. It was when I began. Began to listen, to see, to feel. To love. Music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy. (If you read the first few sentences of this, it sounds choppy, and it doesn't flow--Just using different punctuation could make this so much more fluid. Also, repeating "began" doesn't seem to communicate what you're actually trying to say--Again, this could just be with the following sentences that seem choppy. Also, comparing music and clothes to people after you say she began to love...It seems to undermine a very dramatic statement.) All intensified by the heat, the giddy escapism that came with the end of school, (Here, you use some very "big" words, things that most 18-year-old girls would not use in their everyday speech--or at least in their thoughts. It creates a weird discrepancy in the voice of your work.) the freedom between the beginnings of July and September, three months that stretched ahead without end. Things usually end with an ending, but really it is the beginning of a new thing that is the ending of the previous. However, I rush ahead.


I sat, unseeing, on my bed, staring with blank eyes out of the window. Absentmindedly biting at my nails, (This is repetitive. You don't need to explain her absentmindedness 3 different times.) wondering when my life would start, whether someone would appear this summer to take me away from the mundane village existence that I lived.


"Daisy?" Mum's voice came from the kitchen; her uncanny knack for being heard anywhere in the house was one that I didn't share. "Could you go and check that the chickens have enough water? Your brother was meant to do it, but he's disappeared on his bike."


Great. Feeding the chickens. It pretty much summed up the previous eighteen years and four months or so of my conscious life. Knowing my luck, it would undoubtedly be the soundtrack, along with the generic tinny pop that blasted from the radio, to my so called "Summer of Fun". Sighing, I blinked, and the cloud of woe lifted from my eyes. I looked out at the garden, slightly overgrown and glorious in it promiscuity. The flowers sprawled in the sun, bursting with colour, beauty, confidence. Traits I wished I had. God, I was so weird! No wonder it was unlikely (This is awkward. People typically speculate about something that hasn't happened, not that it's not likely to happen.) I would be invited to anyone's mansion/yacht/villa, delete as appropriate. I was, quite simply, too odd.


I stomped downstairs, mourning the loss of any previous hopes for myself. Some unknown power had obviously preordained my summer to be that of a proper country bumpkin; I might as well mow the lawn, or do some weeding, once I'd seen to the chickens.


"Thanks, Dais, you're a real help, unlike your useless brother!" (I changed the punctuation there. This is a continuation of what I talked about at the top; if you have a lot of short sentences next to each other, it can be choppy and difficult to read.) She pulled me into a hug, and at that moment I resented her. For thinking that this was what I wanted, a quiet life in a Cotswolds village where I had no friends and was miles from anywhere of significance. For thinking I was still a child.


"So, now that you've left school, are you still going to wear your "uniform"?" she teased, thwarting my effort at a paltry escape. Another annoyance: just because I wore the same clothes as everyone else in my year didn't mean I was trying to fit in; I just liked the clothes. Was it that hard to understand?


I headed out with a grunt. Childish but necessary.

I liked this overall. I enjoy the themes you're discussing, and your grammar is excellent; you have a very broad vocabulary that will come in handy. My question is character voice. You've chosen to write this in first person rather than third person with a focus on Dais. I would like to see more of Dais as a character; is this really the way she thinks? Is this really how she would react to each situation? The way she talks, thinks, and explains things all goes into developing her as a character, which is why writing in first person can often be so difficult.

Second, repetition. You brought up the subject of living in a small town and wanting something more. And then you brought it up again. And again. And again. Did i mention you brought up the subject of living in a small town?
What I'm trying to say is that once you introduce something, in the first chapter (especially one of this size), you don't really need to remind the reader of it again and again. If you need to tie it into something, great, but unless you're adding something new to it, it can get boring.

Overall, it was a good read and I liked it. Really you only have minor things to fix. Thanks for letting me read!
-Stone

Tears, you can make this into a novel (each chapter being in its own thread) and a link will appear to every reader, giving them the entire list of chapters.
For this piece, though, I’ve got some mixed feelings. I know it’s a prologue, so I’m not going to be too harsh about the meaningless of it all (it could turn out to explain itself in later chapters) but I think you should at least give us a semi-clear direction for the rest of the novel. So far, I see only two directions: she meets up with some dramatic change that totally blasts her mundane life apart (some sort of travel through space, time or dimension) or else the rest of the novel will be as boring as you present her life to be at this point. If that’s so, then I’ll tell you here and now that you might not get very many readers (except for Hobbits, who enjoy reading boring books full of things they already knew). I don’t mean to be harsh, you see, but I am working on very little information here.
Actually, what the reader knows is a very important place to begin when planning the future chapters of a novel (unless you’ve already planned them). Knowing this can tell you if the way you presented your ideas came across clearly, or if you just confused us and we didn’t pick up vital information.
So far, I know that this girl is called Daisy, that she lives with her mother and brother, and that she lives in a very peaceful (read: boring) place. I know nothing about the school she left (except that she used to wear a uniform). Was she kicked out? Did she graduate? Did she drop out? What age exactly is she? I’m thinking along the lines of a teenager, but this could almost fit a twenty-year-old as well.

These are details you can fill out in the chapters, so it’s only something you need to keep at the back of your mind. But do keep in mind what I said before: this is boring.
I mean you no harm by that phrase, since I’m stating it as a fact and not an insult. Granted, it’s a painful fact, but knives are painful as well…until you use them to carve at your masterpiece and create something better. Who knows? I might even follow this as it fledges out into a novel.

~Jenth

I loved this Post more

This was a good story! I actually enjoyed it!

It was when I began. Began to listen, to see, to feel. To love. Music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy.

I would try to put commas instead of periods. It was when I began, began to listen to see, to feel. To love music, clothes, people, whatever took my fancy.

[quote"Could you go and check that the chickens have enough water? Your brother was meant to do it, but he's disappeared on his bike."[/quote]
LOL

Hey tears,

I got excited about your first paragraph because it seemed like the start of something pretty interesting, although perhaps a little cliche (the whole "this was the summer I grew up" idea). I was let down by what actually happened in the scene, though. It was just pretty boring and seemed to be cut off early. There's not a great deal of conflict (although you hint at it) and we barely get a chance to see what the MC is like. I think your best bet is to scrap this boring beginning and jump right into the middle of something exciting. It's called in media res -- or "in the middle". That's pretty much the best advice I've ever been given when writing fiction. Scrap the boring beginnings, start in the middle of the story, at the point where your character is changing, developing, moving on, and carry from there. I thought you were going to do that but it degenerated into a useless scene involving nothing!

Good luck.

Hey there! WritingWords here with your super cool review! Just kidding..

My first impression of this was, I want to know more about this character. I didn't necessarily like or not like this story. I feel..neutral because right now, I can't feel anything for this character. True, I know she thinks she's weird and all that, but why? Why is she weird? Why did you mention at the beginning that she started to sense things after school ended? What kind of personality does she have?

So many questions, unanswered. Please fill out your character, if you know what I mean. Hope this helped! Post in my topic!

I will keep this short and sweet!
Unlike Nike, I think the first paragraph was perfect! It was a little wordy, perhaps, but I think since you only had this problem in the first small paragraph that it actually wasn't a problem at all! For me it just sets the mood for the story. The narator obviously has a quirky personality and the wordiness kind of braces you for that.
You did a great job with vocabulary too! It is anything if mundane. The narrorator sounds intelligent and entertaining.
I didn't see any glaring gramatical errors either! Great job! It read well and flowed smoothly!

This was an excellent read, you utilize a fantastic vocabulary along with sentences that flow very well. The thing that I would have liked to see more in this prologue would be a bit more "showing" instead of "telling". Beware of info-dumping, there's a fine line between explaining the story and listing off all the character traits and thoughts and alluding to future plots all in the first page. Try to have more imagery....what does her room look like, the house, the chicken coop. What kind of village does she live in....what does her mother look like? Readers love to be able to picture everything as if they are there