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Oh thanks so much guys one, two, ... five reviews to read! Well, I better get started thanks for all the help!

A. S.

Hi again Cali!

So, I don't have that much to say because you've made this new draft much, much better then the original. The story feels a lot more coherent and gripping. I love how you build everything up, and the scene where she's bullied by the other kids at school and the ending are especially strong. I think it has much more of a focus then it did before, but I still think that you could make it a lot stronger.

Even though the story about the dad is supposed to be more of a subplot, it's definitely built up too strongly in the first part for you to just forget it in the second part. Does she think of what her father would say if he knew what was going on? Does she wonder if the package is from her father? Overall, I'd make the two plot-lines in the story more connected and seamless then they are now. Maybe she gets the package at the beginning of the story, and they talk about dad while sewing bits of the coat. That way you'll get to build up enough of the character and motivation that will drive the piece and make the ending seem more touching.

Overall, this is a major improvement! Hope these thoughts help a bit. ^^

-Elinor x

Good day to you, I am here on part of the Four Musketeers and I am quite happy to make your acquaintance. At your service, my good friend. Now, I am here to review! Let us begin!

Calligraphy wrote:<I wrote this short story for the contest Tear Jerker song. It ends on the 14 so if you are going to review review now! The song that I followed is Coat of Many Colors by Dolly Parton. I want nitpicks, but also want reviews on the content. Does it make sense to you?>

Pumpkins sat about me on our old front porch.

I picked at the peeling red paint on the steps as the cold breeze made goose bumps run up my legs.

I stood up as my momma walked out, letting the screen door slam behind her. She picked up the lantern I had set beside me; we wouldn’t get back until after dark.

Momma’s hands were warm and callused, but at the same time, soft; I always felt cozy and comforted when she held my hand like she did now.

As we walked, we talked about all sorts of things. This was my favorite time, when Momma and I would walk to the barns every night to do chores; not even the evenings we sewed together were as special. “Momma,” I asked. “Does daddy still live here?” Then I didn’t realize that he often traveled to find work and when he could come home he came long after I went to bed and left hours before my mother or me even got up. When I did see him seemed years apart to me though it really wasn’t more than a week of absence. I used to cry in his closet wrapping myself in his shirts.

All I wanted was a hug or a kiss or his laugh.

I waited patiently as my mother slowly sounded out the words: For the girl. That was the first night in a long time when my momma laughed. She laughed out of happiness until she was forced to slide against the wall to the floor. She laughed until she cried. Her laughing made me laugh and we both sat there hugging our stomachs unable to stop.

Mamma had already taught me a lot of reading, writing, and some math, but today I would lean #FF0000 ">learn from a teacher.

“Your big thought that I can barely hold in my big hands. They’ll never know it, but Moses will and I will and Momma will and God will. So, you gotta where that coat with pride. Like Joseph wore his cus yer not poor unless you choose to be.” I did wear that coat for the rest of that school year and the next. Patches were sewed over patches, but I always tried to follow my father’s orders.

Oh boy, lucky you, I'm a reviewer who doesn't particularly like religion...
Also, this review will probably be a bit nitpicky.

She picked up the lantern I had set beside me; we wouldn’t get back until after dark.

I waited patiently as my mother slowly sounded out the words: For the girl. That was the first night in a long time when my momma laughed. She laughed out of happiness until she was forced to slide against the wall to the floor. She laughed until she cried. Her laughing made me laugh and we both sat there hugging our stomachs unable to stop.

“Well, the note says they are for you, Jo. What would you like to do with them?” My first thought was my bare arms that always seemed to be ice cold. I rubbed them as I thought.

The crackling fire gave us light and warmth.

Days passed then weeks.

Joseph had lots of brothers, but the brothers were jealous of him because he had a coat with lots of colors. They threw him in a pit and sold him into slavery, telling their father that Joseph was dead. Joseph’s new masters brought him to a new land he had never seen. But he worked hard and God helped him. Soon he became second in command next to the Pharaoh. God told Joseph that a drought was coming, so Joseph had the kingdom prepare for it. When the drought came, the countries around Egypt started to starve, so they asked for help. Joseph’s brothers came to ask for help, too. But, instead of being angry, Joseph helped them.

“Not until tomorrow before school. For good luck.”

“I hope that, like with Joseph, this coat of many colors will bring you hope and happiness.”

When I entered the playground, almost all the students were there, playing and laughing together.

“So you’re from the country I suppose. Way out in the sticks.”

“Can’t you talk?” She asked as her scowl turned to sneer.

“I have my ways. But back to those kids in the school yard. The second secret is that they don’t know and probably know your secret.”

“Your big thought that I can barely hold in my big hands. They’ll never know it, but Moses will and I will and Momma will and God will. So, you gotta where that coat with pride. Like Joseph wore his cus yer not poor unless you choose to be.” I did wear that coat for the rest of that school year and the next. Patches were sewed over patches, but I always tried to follow my father’s orders.

Hey Calligraphy I'm here representing one of the four Musketeers. One for all! And all for one! Thank you for visiting our WRFF thread.

On to the review

Pumpkins sat about me on our old front porch.

I picked at the peeling red paint on the steps #00BF00 ">as the cold breeze made goose bumps run up my legs. I stood up #00BF00 ">as my momma walked out, letting the screen door slam behind her. She picked up the lantern I had set beside me; we wouldn’t get back until after dark.

“Momma,” I asked. “Does daddy still live here?”

Then I didn’t realize that he often travelled to find work and when he could come home he came long after I went to bed and left hours before my mother or me even got up.

I wanted to give him a kiss back. I wanted to get a sip out of his coffee. (Momma didn’t approve, but he always snuck some to me.)

That evening when we walked #0040BF ">back up the steps of our front porch #0040BF ">after the chores, even with the lantern held out in front of us, we almost stumbled over a wooden box.

So my momma carried #0040BF ">the box into the kitchen and undid the latches to open it up.

All I could think was that someone out there gave these to us and didn’t even ask for thanks. They didn’t even want credit for their gift. They just gave.

The whole time at the back of my mind I wondered who it could be#0040BF ">. I didn’t find out that night, but, at the very bottom of the box there was a note.

I waited patiently as my mother slowly sounded out the words: For the girl.

That It was the first night in a long time when since my momma laughed.

She #00BF00 ">laughed out of happiness until she was forced to slide against the wall to the floor. She #00BF00 ">laughed until she cried. Her#00BF00 "> laughing made me #00BF00 ">laugh and we both sat there hugging our stomachs unable to #00BFBF ">stop. Finally Momma #00BFBF ">stopped. After a few moments I recovered too, but I still had to stifle a few giggles.

“Well, the note says they are for you, Jo. What would you like to do with them?” My first #BF4080 ">thought was my bare arms that always seemed to be ice cold. I rubbed them as I #BF4080 ">thought.

They were all very different, except for the ending; a young girl would always fall in love through hardship and they would marry and live happily ever after. Momma would tell all sorts of stories too, but most of them were about her childhood or a man named Jesus.

I didn’t know how many nights we worked on the jacket, but the ones when I fell asleep to my parent’s whispering voices always have stuck out in my mind.Days passed then weeks. Before I knew it the jacket was finished. That last evening my mother told me of a boy named Joseph.

Joseph had lots of brothers, but the brothers were jealous of him because he had a coat with lots of colors. They threw him in a pit and sold him into slavery, telling their father that Joseph was dead. Joseph’s new masters brought him to a new land he had never seen. But he worked hard and God helped him. Soon he became second in command next to the Pharaoh. God told Joseph that a drought was coming, so Joseph had the kingdom prepare for it. When the drought came, the countries around Egypt started to starve, so they asked for help. Joseph’s brothers came to ask for help, too. But, instead of being angry, Joseph helped them.

The next #00BF00 ">morning I woke up early. That #00BF00 ">morning was really the first day of winter because frost was in the corners of my room. The air was freezing and hung about me like a garland on a Christmas tree. I ran to my mother’s bed and shook her awake.

My excitement could not be contained. Today was my first day of school. Mamma had already taught me a lot of reading, writing, and some math, but today I would lean from a teacher. That #00BF00 ">morning my mother humored me.

“I hope that, like with Joseph, this coat of many colors will bring you hope and happiness.” She leaned down and kissed the collar, then sent me trotting down the old dirt road.

She was older than me, not by much though, maybe ten. She chewed her bubble gum and twiddled with the ribbons in her hair. “So you’re from the country I suppose. Way out in the sticks.”

“Hey Rebecca#0040BF ">,” she called. “Come here. The new girl doesn’t know how to talk.”

They weren’t as mean. But, no one came to save me.

The school bell started to ring. But, it was ignored.

But, when I felt them around me I knew they weren’t hers.

“I tried to explain, but they wouldn’t listen. You’re only poor if you want to be.”

“That’s a big thought for a girl your age to be thinking.”

“First the scraps that made your coat were from the tin peddler.”

“Your big thought that I can barely hold in my big hands. They’ll never know it, but Moses will and I will and Momma will and God will. So, you gotta where wear that coat with pride. Like Joseph wore his cus yer not poor unless you choose to be.” I did wear that coat for the rest of that school year and the next. Patches were sewed over patches, but I always tried to follow my father’s orders.

Cute story

Pumpkins sat about me on our old front porch. I picked at the peeling red paint on the steps as the cold breeze made goose bumps run up my legs.

Momma’s hands were warm and callused, but at the same time, soft; I always felt cozy and comforted when she held my hand like she did now. As we walked, we talked about all sorts of things. This was my favorite time, when Momma and I would walk to the barns every night to do chores; not even the evenings we sewed together were as special.

“Momma,” I asked. “Does daddy still live here?” Then I didn’t realize that he often traveled to find work and when he could come home he came long after I went to bed and left hours before my mother or me even got up.

The whole time at the back of my mind I wondered who it could be I didn’t find out that night, but, at the very bottom of the box there was a note.

“Well, the note says they are for you, Jo. What would you like to do with them?” My first thought was my bare arms that always seemed to be ice cold. I rubbed them as I thought.

“A coat?” I asked.

They were all very different, except for the ending; a young girl would always fall in love through hardship they would marry and live happily ever after.

Momma would tell all sorts of stories too, but most of them were about her childhood or a man named Jesus.

Mamma had already taught me a lot of reading

I was too shy so I stood watching as it spin round and round fiddling with the strings on my coat.

“Your big thought that I can barely hold in my big hands.

Thanks, El. That really helps. The reason I had her say "Does daddy still live here?" is because I said that to my mom when I was little...

Hiya,

So, I like this. It's well written and you've developed some good characterization. But I don't really know how to describe this story in terms of the way it made me feel. It's cute and touching, yes, and I really like your word choice and style. However, this is not a very sad or emotionally gripping story. I think this is mainly because you need more of a focus. The beginning is good since you draw us in about how the father's looking for work (Although it does seem a bit unlikely that he would go out all day, every day. I know the family's desperate, but he would still want to spend time with his wife and kid) and then you just sort of forget about it. I can kind of get that the father sent the package, but if he had time to do that, couldn't he just deliver it himself?

Anyway, after your narrator gets the coat, the father is never mentioned again, and it becomes about the story of Joseph and his coat. Then you go straight to her being teased for being poor and wearing the coat. What happened to the father? I can kind of tell this story is more about the coat, so try to develop it as such. I think I'd either have her get the coat earlier, maybe just before the story begins. Then you can devote the whole attention of the story to the coat, and maybe have the mother and the narrator talk about her father here and there.

Also, it would be nice you could develop the teasing scene a bit further, maybe add a bit more dialogue. Show us the reactions of the other children, build up the scene. Instead of telling us what happened to her, show us. Also, your narrator doesn't really seem that angry/sad as I feel like she should after she's been teased. So try to work on adding a bit more emotion when she gets home and tells her mother what happened. Does she burst in to tears? Scream and cry? That way you'll get to add a bit more tension and that will make the ending seem a bit more touching.

Anyway! I wish you best of luck in the contest, and feel free to PM me if you have any further questions.

-Elinor x