New story, please comment, I would like to improve it. It's just an idea got it off the show I watched about poor kids in the Appalachian mountains
That morning started out as any other morning. I woke up in the and climbed out of bed, it wasn't the best bed in the whole world, a little hard but a bed nonetheless. The bright morning sun blared through my window.
My mom was probably still asleep, sleeping off a hangover from some wild party she and her boyfriend went to. I resented her, she got to do whatever the hell she wanted and I was stuck here taking care of her and this house like I was her mother and not the other way around.
I climbed out of bed and walked and into the bathroom. It was grimy, the worst room in the house, the others weren't horrible,the tiled walls were filled with soap scum, as well as the floor tiles. I went into our shower, the floors were dirty. They had scuffs of a yellowish, brown color. I ignored them, and turned on the water. My mom and I tried to resist turning it on hot, however; if we did that my mom would flip out at our water bill. So I took a cold shower. It numbed my body and I shivered as I stepped out.
Luckily, my hair was naturally straight so all I had to do was wait for it to dry to look good. It was red, I liked it. It made me unique and different from everyone else. Wiped some of the steam off the mirror and looked into my deep hazel eyes. Even though most people would think I did, I loved my looks, they weren't like every other tall brunette, athletic girl you saw all the time. My body was petite, short and thin.
Not that I wasn't already different, but the kids at school didn't know that. I lived in this house, it wasn't that wonderful but it served it's purpose. My mom had a job it paid okay but lately we were having trouble paying some bills. So when I was old enough, I would have to get a real job as well. I had a job where I babysat these two girls at a house down the the road. It paid well, twelve dollars an hour. The people had a lot of money but I didn't baby sit them for hours on end. Probably just four hours.
The house was small, and a grayish color. I tried to keep it clean as possible, the only room I didn't clean was my mothers, she could clean it herself, I really didn't give a shit.
I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair was drying pretty well and I was wrapped in a towel. The house was cold, we usually didn't turn on the heat to high, because of the bill.
Bills were what I dreaded, we could pay some of them, we tried to pay the better ones, like electric, water, and heating. But others were harder. I paid the phone bill, the only bill I paid all by myself. It was the one thing that kept people in contact with me. I helped my mom pay the other ones.
We got along okay until my dad left. He decided he didn't love my mom anymore and left us for some other woman he met at his job as a mechanic. He had fixed her car and the "fell in love" I doubted that was really how happened. I got letters from him once and awhile but when I didn't reply he stopped writing.
I walked into the cramped bedroom and over to a suitcase that contained my spring clothes. I didn't have the best clothes that a lot of kids had, but, they worked. I went to Goodwill and they had great clothes sometimes. We had a washer, and no dryer. My mom had asked which one I would rather have, I decided clean clothes would be better.
I decided on a pair of blue and white plaid shorts and a blue camisole and over it I put on a white zip-up sweatshirt. The had a few stains on them that the washer didn't get out. However, it wasn't anything too noticeable.
I was fourteen years old and for the most part I took care of myself. My mom tried to get money for us, but not the right way. Her addiction was alcohol. She was always drunk or dealing with a hangover. That's why I hated her. If she could find money to buy herself alcohol that why couldn't she find money to pay for other things that we needed more. I couldn't wait to get away from her. I had begged her to get help but she insisted she needed none. I wished she would get over herself. I dreamed of getting away from her and starting my life, having a good job with steady income, and a good husband and kids. For now, I just had to hope.
Hoping wasn't to difficult, I got good grades, I could graduate high school easily. But for now, I was still in middle school.
I started back into the bathroom and looked into the streaked mirror. I applied some light make-up on my heart shaped face but stopped in my tracks when I heard, "Lindsay," my mom slurred, drawing out the syllables in my name. I exhaled deeply and walked down the hallway, stepping over clothes on the floor. "Yeah mom," I asked, stepping into her bathroom.
I closed my eyes at the sight. She was sitting on the bed, her eyes were glazed over and her hair was all out of place. She was staring at me, her hand pressed to her head. "Get me some aspirin would you?" She said in a high, squeaky voice.
"I have to go," I replied.
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "I don't care," she hissed.
I sighed and walked into the kitchen. Many of the cabinets were already opened so I walked over to one where we kept medicine. Accidentally, I walked into a counter top and it jabbed into my hip, clutching my hip I kept walking and grabbed the green bottle of Excedrin from the cabinet and walked back to her room.
I tossed it onto the bed next to her and she ignored me, popping a few pills into her mouth. I sighed and grabbed my backpack from the living room. We had no TV, only an ugly blue couch, a coffee table, and a long clothesline that hung from one side of the room to the other. It held no clothes today, however. There were some pictures hanging crookedly on the walls. Just my mothers idea of making the house more "homey," it would never be "homey." A home is where people live happily together, that was the opposite of me and my mother.
I grabbed my bag off the coffee and walked out the door, down the creaky wooden steps, and onto the road. cell phone.
I was almost to school when I heard someone call my name, "Linds!"
I turned around. "Hey Chase," I said to my best friend. He was popular, more popular then me. But, I know more about him then other people do. He was in a band, and future quarterback on the high school football team. But, that didn't matter. Not to me. He smiled, brushing his long brown bangs out of his bright blue, shining eyes.
"How come you always walk?" He asked, he didn't know where I lived, I figured I should tell him, but I never did, I couldn't. I never invited him to my house, and he didn't ask to come. He didn't need to come. He was oblivious to the fact that I didn't have the best school supplies and that I didn't keep up with the latest trends. He had a lot of problems to deal with on his own.
"Why are you walking now?" I questioned, completely ignoring his question.
"I missed the bus," he said.
I'd known Chase since we first came here, when I was in third grade. My mom took care of me more then, she felt more obligated since I was younger and couldn't do anything myself. But now that I was in middle school she learned to ignore me more.
I nodded and started walking again, he followed me and then stopped abruptly. "How come I always get the feeling you're hiding something from me?" He asked, tugging at the string on his blue sweatshirt.
I looked at him and took a deep breath, "I don't know," I stammered.
"Well are you?" He asked quizzically.
"No," I replied.
"Okay, because we're best friends, we have to tell each other everything," he laughed. I smiled, we had made a pact that we would tell each other everything, it was cliche, of course, but for the most part we did tell each other everything.
"I know," I replied and kept walking. The guilt was building inside of me, he told me everything, why couldn't I just tell him? He smiled and that only made it worst, he had the best smile, a smile that all the girls fall for him even though he thought most of the girls at our school were sluts.
"Good," he replied and kept walking.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,005 Literary Works • 672,794 Reviews
I know I made some random mistakes because I was deleting stuff and then I was adding things. So I forgot some words that I should've deleted. Thanks for the reviews.
I'm not going to do a review on the edit, but I will give you this:
Commas -vs- Semi-colons
A little tutorial done by yours truly. You should really check it out.
A few small catches...
I think you missed a word...
How many floors does the shower have?!
I think maybe you missed out 'I' at the beginning of this.
the...I think you mean then.
They...
This sentence did't make sense to me, did you mix some words up? Maybe.
What was her bag doing on the coffee? Perhaps it was on the table?
Huh!?! Where did the last bit come from and why didn't you mention it again?
Finish with a good thing,
I love how you added in this little thing that most people wouldn't notice.
Now I feel very bad about pointing out mistakes. It was a good story, I really felt for Lindsey poor girl living like that with her alcoholic mum. It was a good choice for a story line even though nothing really happened. You portrayed good feeling and description.
Ta, I'm Evi and I am here to [s]shred[/s] critique your story!
Hehe. Totally kidding.
Not a terribly gripping opening paragraph, but by no means is it bad. Moving on, shall we?
I think you should put the second 'she' in italics. And the comma before that 'she' should be a semi-colon instead.
You end two sentences in a row with 'shower'. This could be considered a nit-pick for this particular spot, but repeating words too often leaves a jarring rythym in your story and interupts the flow that you should be aiming for. This is nice description in here, though.
Stella's right. If she can't afford a bed, she can't afford a blow driver. You'll need to fix that.
See: Commas -vs- semi-colons
A handy little tutorial written by yours truly.
It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, along with a kitchen and a living room.
Again, refer to the above link to brush up on your punctuation.
You don't need both occasionaly and sometimes in one sentence. They're so similar that it distracts.
I think you should add something about them being grungy or worn, because a camisole is, to me, something much wealthier teenagers wear.
Ya?
Your description of the hourse works. We can imagine it, although I have trouble believing someone qwould abandon a house that has two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Unless it being abandoned is a major part of the plot, you need to realize that that sort of thing just doesn't happen; the government keeps records of who owns a house, and when people move, they normally try to put their old house on the market.
Otherwise, I can see what you're describing. Eww. I could never live like that.
Ah, here we go. You are, as of now, lacking something solid about your character for us to grab on to. We don't know what she looks like, besudes the fact that she has straight hair, and we don't know much anything abouit her besides that she's poor. Poor does not make us sympathize with her. We need to know how she feels about being poor. oes she work hard to keep them afloat? Does the resent her mother for meing so irresponsilbe? We can't connect with your MC unless me can get into her head; after all, that's why you're writing in first person, right?
If she's half as poor as you're getting across (unable to buy a bed) there's no way Chase wouldn't have noticed that her clothes are grimy and old, she can never get proper school supplies, and other sure tip-offs. Either he's very oblivious, orsomething needs to be tweaked, methinks.
I can see many different ways you could continue this, and that's good. But her being 'poor' isn't enough foundation for an entire plot. Think about other aspects of her life-- her grades, her friends, her father/siblings, and how being without luxuries affects her. Did she start with money but then her family hit rock bottom? Has she grown up with next to nothing?
I hope this doesn't soung too harsh, because I thought your style of writing can ne very good if you tweak a couple of things. Once we can get a firm hold on who this main character is, the story will be so much more. So, that's what I'd work on. Figure out who this girl is. what are her hopes? Her fears? Her dreams? Her hobbies?
Good luck, and have fun with this!
~Evi
Hey =]
I definitely think you have a good concept for a story.
I did notice that you used the word, 'dirty,' quite a few times. Maybe you could replace a few of them with different adjectives; 'soiled', 'grimy', 'grubby,' etc
-"I lived in this run-down house that me and my mom found, it was abandoned and since she didn't have any money to buy us our own house, we lived here."
Maybe it would sound better if you wrote;
I lived in a run-down house that me and my mom had found. It was abandoned and since we didn't have any money to buy our own house, it had to do.
I replaced, 'we lived here,' with 'it had to do,' as you already stated that you lived there at the start of the sentence before it.
We were safe, for now. - sounds interesting. Are they on the run from someone?
I didn't have the best clothes that a lot of kids had. But, they worked. - maybe put a comma after, 'had,' instead of a full stop.
I applied some light make-up but stopped in my tracks when I heard, "Lindsay," my mom called in a long, drawn out, slurred voice. - i'd re-phrase this sentence.
-"I applied some light make-up but stopped in my tracks when i heard my mum's voice. "Lindsay," she slurred, drawing out the syllables of my name."
She was staring at me; her hand was pressed to her head. - "She was staring at me, her hand pressed against her forehead."
These are only a few suggestions, but i hope i've been of some help to you. Like i said at the start, i definitely think you have a good potential story here, but like 'Stella' said, try to stick to what would seem plausable. If she can't afford clothes then how would she afford an ipod?
xDudettex =]
That morning started out as any other morning. I woke up in the cot my mom called a bed; however, that was not how it was. The middle bit of this sentence doesn't flow very well, I'm afraid. Replace it with "...a bed, but that's... It was just a mattress on the hardwood floor of our run down house in Kentucky. It had a few blankets on it, but that was basically it. Cut out the word "basically," you don't need it.
She had a normal bed, of course, she was special. It wasn't anything that amazing No "that" but it was certainly better then(than) my "bed". It's not good to use the word bed again so soon. Use "better than where I slept.
So, anyways, I climbed off the mattress and into the bathroom. It was dirty; the tiled walls were a filled with soap scum, as well as the floor tiles. I went into our shower; the floors were dirty in it. The grammar here doesn't sound so good, revise it. They had scuffs of a yellowish, brown color. I ignored it, and turned on the water. I didn't turn it on hot, however, New sentence here. if I did that, my mom would flip out at our water bill. So I took a cold shower. It numbed my body and I shivered as I stepped out of the shower.
Luckily, my hair was naturally straight so all I had to do was blow dry it for it to look good. It was red, I liked it. It made me unique and different from everyone else.
[/b]The nex paragraph is unneccasary here, merge the two together.[/b]Not that I wasn't already different, but the kids at school didn't know that. I lived in this run-down house that me and my mom found, it was abandoned and since she didn't have any money to buy us our own house, we lived here.
The house was small, and a grayish color. It was dirty and there were random things strewn all over the place. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom. Along with a kitchen and living room. It was hidden in a woodsy area so nobody ever came looking for it. We were safe, for now.
I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair was dry and I was wrapped in a towel. The house was cold; we usually didn't turn on the heat, because of the bill.
Bills still got delivered to this house; they weren't addressed to us, but to the old owners. Luckily we had found the house soon after they had left because the government hadn't known it was abandoned.
I walked into the cramped bedroom and over to a suitcase that contained my spring clothes. I didn't have the best clothes that a lot of kids had. But, they worked. I went to Goodwill occasionally and they had great clothes sometimes.
I decided on a pair of blue and white plaid shorts and a blue camisole and over it I put on a white zip-up sweatshirt.
I was fourteen years old and for the most part I took care of myself. My mom tried to get money for us, but not the right way. She would sell prescription drugs, any type of drug really to get some extra cash. Sometimes she would even go buy herself drugs. Her addiction wasn't really drugs, it was alcohol. She was always drunk or dealing with a hangover.
I started back into the bathroom and looked into the streaked mirror. I applied some light make-up but stopped in my tracks when I heard, "Lindsay," my mom called in a long, drawn out, slurred voice.
I exhaled deeply and walked down the hallway, stepping over clothes on the floor. "Yeah mom," I asked, stepping into her bathroom.
I closed my eyes at the sight. She was sitting on the bed, her eyes were glazed over and her hair was all out of place. She was staring at me; her hand was pressed to her head. "Get me some aspirin would you?" She said in a high, squeaky voice.
"I have to go," I replied.
She frowned, her brow furrowing. "I don't care," she hissed.
I sighed and walked into the kitchen. Many of the cabinets were already opened so I walked over to one where we kept medicine. I accidentally walked into a counter top and it jabbed into my hip. I clutched my hip and bit my lip. I kept walking and grabbed the green bottle of Excedrin from the cabinet and walked back to her room.
I tossed it onto the bed next to her and she ignored me, popping a few pills into her mouth. I sighed and grabbed my backpack from the living room with it's paint peeling off the beige walls. We had no TV, only an ugly blue couch, a coffee table, and a long clothesline that hung from one side of the room to the other. It held no clothes today, however.
I grabbed my bag off the coffee and walked out the door, down the creaky wooden steps, and onto the road. I had only two things that really meant anything to me, my IPod and cell phone. I took out my IPod and stuck the earphones into my ears. The music made me walk faster.
I was almost to school when I heard someone call my name, "Linds!"
I turned around. "Hey Chase," I said to my best friend. He was popular, more popular then me. But, I know more about him then other people do. He was in a band, and future quarterback on the high school football team. But, that didn't matter. Not to me. He smiled, brushing his long brown bangs out of his bright blue, shining eyes.
"How come you always walk?" He asked, he didn't know where I lived, I figured I should tell him, but I never did, I couldn't.
"Why are you walking now?" I questioned, completely ignoring his question.
"I missed the bus," he said with a shrug.
I'd known Chase since we first came here, when I was in third grade. My mom took care of me more then, she felt more obligated since I was younger and couldn't do anything myself. But now that I was in middle school she learned to ignore me more.
I nodded and started walking again; he followed me and then stopped abruptly. "How come I always get the feeling you're hiding something from me?" He asked, tugging at the string on his blue sweatshirt.
I looked at him and took a deep breath, "I don't know," I stammered.
"Well are you?" He asked quizzically.
"No," I replied.
"Okay, because we're best friends, we have to tell each other everything," he laughed. I smiled, we had made a pact that we would tell each other everything, it was cliché, of course, but for the most part we did tell each other everything.
"I know," I replied and kept walking. The guilt was building inside of me; he told me everything, why couldn't I just tell him? He smiled and that only made it worst, he had the best smile, a smile that all the girls fall for him even though he thought most of the girls at our school were sluts.
"Good," he replied and kept walking.[/quote]
Hey Colleen, I don't think we've met before! I'm Stella (or whatever you want to call me) and welcome to YWS! I shall be your critiquer today...
I. NITPICKS
were filled, not were a filled.
She can't afford a bed but she can afford a hairdryer?
comma before name.
iPod.
he, not He.
Okay...
II. THINK ABOUT IT...
How does she get music on her iPod? They would have to have a computer and Internet connection for that - and usually a credit card. How do they have those and not a bed? How do they have a hairdryer but can't afford hot water bills? If her best friend has known her for her whole life, how doesn't he know that she's living in extreme poverty? How does she buy school books and a cell phone, but not things to clean their bathroom?
You have to think about these things...
III. OVERALL
I'm not too keen on your use of the word "poor," it isn't a definitive term. Also think, do they get social welfare? A council house? Anything like that. The writing itself was grand though.
Hope I helped, PM me if you have any questions!
-Stella.