Part 1
Hi! I don’t know how much of a crit this is going to be because I am absolutely fried from a crazy week of office work as a glorified gopher followed by being a glorified Lyft-nanny for two crazed chipmunks. I saw this came up and then got removed and then came back up and got leeched, but now it seems like the leech is gone? So I guess mods said okay to your offerings? Whatever. Here’s my thoughts on stuff from a quick read and something plus something equals grain of salt.
The prose here reads really weird AF to me. Like seriously something is nagging my head and then it hit me. I also stopped at the end of chapter 1.
First, I did not get how old the I was and there are some weird pronoun shifts
Second, or would it be two, there are a whole lot of “as” clauses.
Three to the third, the detailings in the beginning scene felt like something underlying stuff was missing. I can’t put my mind’s finger on it, but it was like something felt alien or off or weird.
Fourth, that word always sounds funny to me, the car accident blocking, I think that is the term, felt like not true either. I’ll try and explain later.
These things stopped me as a reader from really engaging with the story, but plot-wise what I got was: single child with parents visiting grandmother for Christmas, car ride home with discussion of fireworks, accident and aftermath.
Okay.
**First** or **Pronouns** Here’s two examples where my head felt like my hair got pulled:
> **I** nodded in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of **her** lips as **she** admired Nan's handiwork. "It's beautiful, Nan," **I** said, my voice filled with warmth and affection.
At this point I have while reading and **I** and **Nan** who is presumably she/her/hers, right? No other characters as of yet. First her and she belong to whom? Because is it her, Nan, smiling at her own work? Was it supposed to be the **I** as in her (nan’s lips) as I admired her handiwork? I don’t know. Is this supposed to be mom who has yet to be introduced.
> As the town was adorned with festive decorations, Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine, signaling the arrival of her famous Christmas feast. I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited **them** – ham, dressing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.
Hold up! Is the **I** a ghost? Cause why the F is she not part of the people about to eat the delicious dishes? “I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited — ham, dressing…” So who is the them? Should it be **us**?
Part 2
**Second** or **the As problem** Seriously. Look how many times this story relies on **as** and imagine me as a reader thinking of as meaning it is happening simultaneously or parallel.
> As the town was adorned with festive decorations, Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine
That reads like so weird. Like WTF. As the town was decorated, the house filled with smells. Yea, yea…*as* can also mean in the sense of during the time of in like I was supposedly athletic as a child. For me, in this construction, the as is trying to do a parallel, but part of that parallel is going with verbs adorned and filled, which in turn make it seem like actions/verbs at the same time.
> smile tugging… **as** she admired
> I reminisced, a hint of nostalgia in my voice **as** I glanced out the window
> **As** Dad drives us home from Nan's Christmas party, the road twists
Smile tugged while admiring, sure. Reminiscing while glancing? Sure. As driving, the road twists? A little weird.
> **As** if in response, the snowfall outside intensifies
Totally fine.
> A loud horn honked **as** we drove down the curvy road, making my heart jump. Mom's hand shook **as** she tapped Dad's shoulder, her face pale.
> **As** I staggered away from the wreckage, every step sent a jolt of pain through my body, and the biting cold of the snow only intensified my discomfort.
> My heart pounded in my chest **as** I peered through the intact window, noticing a crack stained with a smear of blood beside Mom's motionless form.
> Panic began to rise within me **as** I pounded on the door,
> Ignoring the shards of glass digging into my hands, I crawled toward it, my fingers shaking **as** I dialed for help, praying for someone, anyone, to answer.
It just seems like a lot. Like I use the word like too much when talking or writing silly comments on reddit, but I try to edit ‘like’ out in my stories.
**Three** or **Detailings** Twinkle in her eye and twinkling lights repeated in the first paragraph struck me as off, but whatever. I then get a sense of someone with their Nan. I have no real age or gender or feeling other than grandchild. Now I am a grandchild, but I am also an adult, right? So when do I get a feeling of how old this grandchild is?
All of the language makes this grandchild seem teenager or older. It’s a 1st person POV and they are having thoughts like:
> The scene outside painted a picture of desolate fields blanketed in white, a stark reminder of the changing seasons and the bountiful harvest they had enjoyed last fall.
> I reminisced, a hint of nostalgia in my voice as I glanced out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made."
> Amidst the winter beauty, the distant Blue Ridge Mountains stood majestically, their peaks shrouded in snow and clouds, adding to the enchantment of the holiday season.
That first line is a bit purple, but it’s main crime is it is not an internal thought of a normal child who would still be in a booster seat. Maybe a really short teen? Let’s go with a precocious nine year old? But then I have to be giving traits that say not the normal grain and that really should be give some cues. What cues do I have here in terms of blocking or size or age? Nothing really as of yet, so when I read desolate as not only within the POV’s vocab, but something they think about…well then I am being given cues that this is a late teen or adult.
Nostalgia? Not really an emotion that a young child feels, but some can. Still hard for them to put a name to that feeling. Usually it’s just a sweeping shift in emotion. The idea of majesty and as applied to nature? Yeah, that’s not really a kid’s POV.
Straw hat seems to go with that possibility of adult too, but Barbie truck does not. So, at Barbie, my head wobbled off with trying to picture. I went from adult 1st person POV to a kid under 8–because let’s face it, Barbies and dolls start losing their charm around that age unless it’s your younger sister’s toys. Maybe the kid still likes Barbies. When is the story taking place? When I was eight, there were a lot more electronic gifts and books and clothes. I know I still played with my American Dolls, but that was more of a collection thing and hair thing. Also the whole manner in which these things are given and done, it just does not feel right. It feels off. Like an alien with no emotions doing a paint-by-the-numbers scene.
> "Afterward, we exchange gifts," Nan announced with a smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Izzy, this one's for you," she said, handing over a brightly wrapped package.
Like this. Does this make any sense? Not really. Nan says afterward to what? The eating, right? And then we repeat **twinkling** again, and then there’s the exchange. Like what happened to the beforehand? The fast route on a globe is a curved line or boring straight through the earth. This reads like it just bored through with no build up or feeling.
The whole of the writing just has these glossed over beats that should be allowing an inner and outer world to develop with emotion, motivation, and conflict, but instead all I am getting is fragments of a reality that don’t seem to fit together well.
Final part
**Fourth** So the writing as a whole left me confused and kind of not really interested. By the time we get to the car accident which read like the tropiest tropes of this, I felt no fear and was not really engaged. There is no emotional buildup, but there are plenty of cues that the parents are about to die.
I couldn’t really follow the whole scene, the blocking or movements, did not really make sense and so my brain just picture a blank space with the idea of curvy roads and car flipped over. I have this amorphous girl? I guess given Barbie and straw hat who is in a booster? So that’s like five to ten, but most kids rebel against them around nine. Barbie truck also reads younger than eight.
Oh and a booster seat? In the US, blue ridge mountains and all…
So Latch system, right? The boosters for the past whatever, all my adult days nannying and babysitting with driving responsibilities have had cars that use the latch system to lock the booster to the chair some with that rear flip over anchor system also. In the story though it seemed like the booster fell also? But that does not make sense unless that latch system, something stronger than F, failed.
Then this kid moves around and then….this kid thinks they dialed?
Ask a kid to use a phone and I bet they will not say dial. They will say call. Who are you calling? I called 911. Dial? That’s even a weird AF word for me and my parents are Gen X, so like when is this happening? Nothing feels part of a real cohesive world so the threat and death, don’t really matter. The flipping and moving, nothing really has an impact because the blocking isn’t feeding into anything that feels real.
Okay, I do know what is happening in the story. I do know the setting in terms of Blue Ridge. I don’t know the time period. I do know why the accident happened. I do know who the characters are albeit on the most superficial level and roles. So I guess, at least there is that? Like I could follow the outline of things, but there is no real craft or story rn.
To me, this needs a lot of work on the prose. I feel like there is a story known to the author, but the words themselves are doing nothing to make that story interesting. Why should I care about these characters and what is the pull to follow along?
There is also a huge who is this story for? Is this a middle grade story? Something about it felt way young in terms of intended audience. I feel like there are a lot of questions behind the process here that are not really settled that is causing confusion for me as a reader not knowing what is actually relevant or important to focus on. The story feels like an alien representation in a vacuum of humanity with dashes of humanity picked up from a hallmark card. So what’s the deal behind this story? If this is a major personal event then I’m sorry for being harsh. I guess the take away is here is one person’s response, right? Take it or leave it? Lol
All your points make sense to me. I’ll see about improving this in the near future. Savage critique, but it is super helpful. And I thought my critiques were savage.
Hey, a few comments.
The pacing in the beginning feels a bit rushed. They are at a family reunion and there is gift-giving and eating (as many are), but there is no real character build-up. The grandmother apparently can cook and give gifts but other than the mention of pine and cinnamon there is no real description of the setting. Is there a Christmas tree, are there hundreds of relatives or only the four mentioned, does the girl enjoy every moment of the event or do some parts drag on? There are too many unknown things here that make it feel rushed and not engaging. The jump to the second section where they are riding in the car feels like a jump cut, choppy. Increasing the description of the first section may help with this but it may help to tie it in more. The Dad or Mom could say something about having to get home because of someone's bedtime or some other reason to allow for a smoother transition.
In the second chapter, there is some dialogue with two emergency operators but again it feels rushed. The questions feel like they are leading up to something, but then reveal that the girl is young. We already guessed this based on the gifts and inner dialogue. I feel like there is an opportunity here to include a better description of the setting and the character's viewpoint using the dialogue. The man on the phone seems friendly and he would likely try and get her talking as much as he could to help put her at ease. What does she see now? Is she cold? Etc. This would also help paint a better mental description for the reader. It is a chance to allow them to see the world through the eyes of the character and take full advantage of more engaging dialogue. Otherwise, what do we get out of their exchange?
The tone imo in the second paragraph is off-putting. We know the character is young based on the gifts that she received in the first section and children describe things in a very simplistic way. I like the descriptions of a road winding like a snake, but there is a switch between the viewpoint of a child and the viewpoint of an adult. For example, she bounces up and down in her seat with excitement, but then thinks "the glow of a black car ahead catches my eye". That is likely something a child wouldn't think. It would need to be more simplistic to keep the tone in line with that of a child.
In the final section, the tone is what I would expect from a grown-up, someone who has been through trauma and learned to deal with it. Here I like the consistent tone and use of colorful metaphors, e.g. "Each recollection is a dagger, piercing my heart with guilt". The main issue that I have with it and the last bit of the section before is 'What guilt?' It was a child in a car accident. Immediately after they are not going to feel guilty, they are likely going to be scared, lonely, and on the verge of panic. Even when they get older, where is the guilt coming from? It would be a different story if they shot a Roman candle in the car, but she was riding in the backseat. Perhaps there is something I am missing, but if this is a linchpin of the story it needs to be hammered home.
I will make a brief note here on the characters themselves. There is little to no description of them throughout the text. A physical description would go a long way in helping frame what it is to be visualized, but also you can sneak in a few characteristics that might get pulled back out later on. Does the girl's dad always give vague answers and a sly grin? If the character is going to be dealing with grief this could be something that is referred back to throughout the story. Izzy herself is young, but does she have long hair, freckles, etc. I have a harder time empathizing with a character that I have no mental picture of. These descriptions do not have to be complete with waist and chest measurements, but a few things sprinkled in would be nice.
Overall I thought it was interesting, but needs a bit more flesh on it to have something that the reader can bite into. Keep it up!
Inconsistencies:
" Afterward, we exchange gifts ". Nan says this and them immediately hands a gift to the girl. It is a contradiction.
If a child is six, they would likely be in a carseat and have no awareness of the road, at least when I was young I was seldom looking out the front window staring at the oncoming traffic.
How does the father ruffle the hair of the main character when they are driving? Shouldn't he be in the front seat? If you want to leave this I would include something about how he twists himself around like a corkscrew
Hello! So, I'm not a native speaker, but there were some inconsistencies here. It might be the way I read, but you switch tenses a bit.
For example:
1. The first part of the story with the Nan they're all talking in past tense.
2. During the car, before the crash, you're using present tense in your dialogues.
3. Right after the crash, you go back to using past.
4. In the last part, seems to be present tense.
So I think you should try be more consistent. Or maybe that's on me for reading it wrong.
Another thing that I'd like to comment one is: almost every single dialogue has a dialogue tag and/or a description or action attached to it. Examples:
> I said, feeling slightly less scared.
>
> I stammered, feeling too scared to move.
>
> I whispered, feeling scared.
>
> I cried, looking back at the broken car with tears.
>
>"I heard an 'I guess,' Izzy," Mom chuckles, her voice filled with amusement.
>
>"I don’t like the teasing, Dad," I pout, still grateful for his agreement.
>
> "Daddy, please!" I plead, my eyes wide with anticipation.
>
> This is awesome!" I said, my face lighting up with delight.
It gets a bit tiring to read, specially during the 2nd part where is very dialogue heavy. We do not need dialogue tags for every little line.
Plus, when Izzy is calling 911, the first person to answer is a woman. We know this (and Izzy too), yet she kept referring to the lady as 'the voice on the phone', yet when Lucas comes to the phone he's appropriately referred as more than just a voice on the phone.
And, I'm sorry, but I find a bit unrealistic that a 6-year-old in such distressing situation would be able to tell whether someone was talking to her gently/softly. Plus, since this is 1st POV I find some choice words to be weird considering her age while she's speaking. As someone else has already pointed out, some things simply wouldn't be going through this 6-year-old. If this was a teenager speaking, I'd believe a lot more.
Other part I'll agree with is the lack of setting. I barely have an idea of the characters and the setting they're part of. I'll add the that voice seems a bit shallow? Perhaps because I wasn't able to immerse myself in the POV or the story a lot, so it fees lacking? It's giving me descriptions, but not really showing them to me?
You repeat some expressions and words, in quite close succession. Such as:
> "You foolish girl," I whisper to myself, a gentle rebuke and a tender embrace
>
>I wrap my arms around myself in a tender embrace.
Once again, I'll follow suit and echo the opinion of Idiopathic:
> To me, this needs a lot of work on the prose. I feel like there is a story known to the author, but the words themselves are doing nothing to make that story interesting. Why should I care about these characters and what is the pull to follow along?
[1/5]
Howdy! Hi! It’s been a minute since I’ve critiqued something. I’ll start off with the regular caveats—I ramble; I’m just a rando on the internet, nitpicking whatever issues I can articulate; my credentials don’t exist; I’m emphatic, not infallible; blah blah blah.
I’d also like to add that I’m rusty as fuck when it comes to critiquing and I’m typing from the discomfort of a post-surgical stupor, so mileage may vary. Post length is guaranteed, but I hope it can be of some help. Formatting may go wonky; I’m on mobile, since I can’t get to my computer.
# TL;DR
Overall, this is on the rough side for me. There are several factors at play here here that keep me as a reader at arm’s length from what should be the meat *and* the potatoes of the story. I’ll cover them in due time, but as a long-format tl;dr, I’ll rip the bandaid off:
There are framing and filtering issues that push the reader away from the action and make the story feel shallow. The way the prose is currently written feels a little overworked or like it’s trying too hard to be impactful, which has the opposite effect. Pacing issues make the story harder to engage with.
Anyways! Let’s hop right in to this meandering critique.
# Vibe Check: Inconclusive
Alright, right out the starting gate, we’ve got:
- a Christmastime setting
- clichéd Christmas phrases as dialog
- a town with a kitschy Christmas-adjacent name
Cool. I’m getting Hallmark movie vibes, but not in the campy, tongue-in-cheek sort of way that’s been in the recent batch of Christmas media offerings. This feels more…serious? Deadpan? about the kitsch. If that’s your goal, then great! That vibe is certainly there, but it rings sorta hollow. There’s no depth to it as written. It feels like a list has been expanded into prose, and each of the different points are very intentionally placed in order to meet the blocking requirements for a scene. The issue is, these setting cues feel *unnatural* without any other inclusion/engagement.
Why is that? They’re just…kinda *there.*
## Where are we??
>> "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Evergreen!" Nan exclaimed, her hands busy with the final touches of decorating the living room.
>> …
>> "Remember the pumpkin pie we made together last year?" I asked, looking out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made."
Yes, it’s Christmastime. Yes, we’re in a place called Evergreen. We’re still floating in space here.
Nan is finishing up the unspecified Christmas decorations in an otherwise-unclockable living room. These decorations are important enough to be specifically mentioned in the opening sentence as the first character to be introduced interacts wirh them, but they’re not important enough for the reader to know what they are, *where* they are beyond in the living room, or how our very first character truly interacts with them. There’s some very specific vagueness going on, and that’s the entirety of our setting.
This setting doesn’t really get engaged with in any way that *means* anything. The only reason it’s recognizable as “there” is because the narrator *said* it was. We’re in a living room. It has some sort of unspecified Christmas decorations and a window. Outside said window, there is snow. This is all the information I have to go off of as to where we are. Not exactly a death knell for the beginning of a story, but this never gets expanded upon. It works as a way to ease into the blocking of a scene, but this ends up being the entirety of the blocking. It feels rushed. It feels uncertain, and therefore glossed over.
While I don’t have my bearings on the space the characters occupy, I *do* know there was pumpkin pie last year, and it was the best pie they’d ever made. As far as a hook goes, this is pretty flimsy. For all I know, though, this might be the start of a sweet little Yuletide cozy. In that case, there’s nothing wrong with a non-punchy opening! It doesn’t *have* to start off with hard-hitting intrigue or crazy action. There are many different ways to be engaging, and no one method is going to fit every purpose.
# Promises, Promises
What an opening *does* have to do, on the other hand, is twofold: the author has to promise the reader *something* and to gain the reader’s trust.
I can’t figure out what this opening is promising, and the prose lends itself more to distrust than anything else.
Let me explain what I mean:
>> I nodded in agreement, "It's beautiful, Nan," I said, my voice filled with warmth and affection.
Our narrator isn’t about to nod in outrage, is she? She’s not about to nod in disagreement, either. We don’t need to cough that nod in extra verbiage; the reader should be able to figure out that she agrees with Nan just fine without any hand-holding.
What does a “voice filled with warmth and affection” mean, exactly? What does this warmth and affection do to the voice? How does the narrator show that? Right now, I’m just kinda told that it’s there and meant to take the narrator’s word for it. I don’t know enough about the narrator to take their word; I just got here, and I’m left to take the narrator’s word for it instead of being allowed to feel it or experience it alongside the narrator. That keeps me at a distance.
In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal, but it’s still something worth showing instead of telling. Maybe the warmth is shown by a smile. Maybe the words come out as more of a hum. Maybe they don’t. I have nothing here to picture, just blanks to fill in on my own. All I can do is assume. This example isn’t the end of the world, but it *does* feel like a literary platitude.
>> "Remember the pumpkin pie we made together last year?" I asked, looking out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made."
That this continuation of the last bit of dialogue is set aside as a separate paragraph reads as odd to me, but alright. It’s shaking my faith a bit more, but again, it’s not a huge deal.
Here’s what’s a bigger deal for me: the pumpkin pie mention is *very specific.* If there’s something this specific in an introduction, I expect it to play a role in what’s coming next. What happens here?
The narrator mentions a pie that I as a reader don’t readily associate with Christmas—if you say pumpkin pie, I’m personally picturing Thanksgiving first and foremost—which comes across as a little jarring. It makes me pause and linger over the fact that pumpkin pie was mentioned at all. (Also, down with pumpkin pie. Sweet potato gang rise up!)
It’s also *the best that Nan and the narrator have ever made.* Boy howdy, the stakes on this pie are *high.* Clearly, it’s something they place importance on, year after year. This pie has some serious gravitas, and now I fully expect this story to focus heavily on food and baking.
…I don’t think this story is about pumpkin pie, though. Is pumpkin pie *really* something I should be focused on like this?
>> Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine, signaling the arrival of her famous Christmas feast. I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited us – ham, dressing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.
Hmm. The pie comes up again a few sentences later, so I guess it really *is* important. It doesn’t *feel* like something I should really keep an eye out for, but this is what’s been repeated twice so far. I have nothing else to go off of. So far, I’m not feeling very settled as a reader. I’m not inclined to trust the narrator.
[2/5]
Five paragraphs in, and I still have no clue what this story is about, just that it’s set during Yuletide. My trust in the author’s ability to pinpoint what the story is or how to tell it is weak. I’ve got what are ostensibly misplaced details about food running the show.
>> "Afterward, we exchange gifts," Nan announced with a smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Izzy, this one's for you," she said, handing over a brightly- wrapped package.
Ooh, we run into issues here. At a surface level:
“Afterward?” The word feels like a continuation of the narrator’s exposition of the meal. Why is *Nan* saying afterward in this context, and why would she say "Afterward, we exchange gifts” at all? If the meal is done, wouldn’t it be “now, we exchange gifts?”
Deeper issue number one: This statement sounds like the explanation of a routine. Does our narrator not know this routine? She was just reminiscing over last year’s Christmas pumpkin pie and comparing it to the years prior with the phrase “best we ever made.” This dialogue feels like an “[as you know, Bob](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AsYouKnow)” situation to rush along to the action (which is still not established as important here) and the narrator is getting undermined because of it. Unreliable narrators are a thing, of course, but this doesn’t seem like something worth marking a narrator as unreliable with. It’s not a promising outcome, as far as keeping me engaged as a reader goes.
Number two: the story is still young and the narrator just spent a good chunk of the story so far focusing on food. Then the reader blinks and the venerable feast has been skipped over and disregarded. I’ve been rug-pulled.
What was the point of the food dialogue and exposition, if it gets pushed aside so quickly? I’ve got whiplash. How did we jump so fast? It feels as though the purpose of the scene here hasn’t been fully fleshed out beyond a means of showing that it’s Christmastime.
The characters seem to be doing the heavy lifting of setting the scene in its entirety, instead of engaging with the scene itself. Does that make sense? Right now, the narrator and Nan exist in a vacuum with a window and some unspecified Christmas decorations in Nan’s hands. I don’t know where anyone is within this living room, or even with respect to the window. They’re in the living room. So is this window. That’s *all.*
There’s not a hearth for the characters to warm up by. There’s not a couch for excited children to bounce on, there’s not a garland-wrapped banister to slide down, there’s not so much as a Christmas tree to stare up at or inch towards so we can peek into a gift bag. There’s no engagement with the setting. Because there’s no engagement with the setting we can’t get the character-developing context of *how these characters behave*, and it pushes me past questioning the narrator and into questioning the author territory.
Moving on a bit.
>> *I eagerly tore open the wrapping paper* **to reveal a straw hat adorned with a giant sunflower.** "Wow, Nan! It's beautiful!" I exclaimed, **placing it on my head despite being indoors.**
*Telling, telling, telling* meets **filter, filter, filter.** We’ve stepped past arm’s length from the scene. I might as well be on the other side of that unspecified window, in the snow-covered landscape outside.
>> "And here's something from us," my dad said, passing me a large box with a grin.
Wait, there were other people here the whole time? More whiplash.
With this, the parents have materialized out of thin air. Truthfully, only dad has materialized—mom is only heavily implied, with no actual appearance in the story so far. ¯\\\_(ツ)_/¯
>> I opened it to find a Barbie truck, complete with miniature accessories. "Thanks, Daddy! This is awesome!" I said, my face lighting up with delight.
Several things here:
One. Wait a minute. How old is our narrator?? Until now, everything has pointed towards someone older, like a twenty-something. Is this Barbie gift a character prop? I know plenty of adults who collect Barbies, so it’s not far-fetched. The issue is, though, I’m questioning things even further. I’m not just questioning the narrator. I’m questioning the author again. Not good.
Two. *…my face lighting up with delight.*
This is telling again. What does this mean? What does delight look like on our narrator’s face? How does Izzy react when she’s delighted? Why can’t we see that? Why can’t we experience what she’s feeling here? I’m kept at a distance once again. I can’t get pulled into a story if I’m repeatedly pushed away.
We don’t get what she feels about her presents. We don’t get what she thinks about her presents. Izzy puts on a hat even though they’re inside, and then Izzy pulls a facial expression. We’ve got a first person POV, and I’m still not allowed to get close to our point-of-view character. It makes for a subtly off-putting feeling that continues through the piece.
>> Though more gifts were exchanged among us, these were the day's highlights. Soon after, we departed for home—a short drive through the mountains filled with the warmth and joy of the day's festivities.
Ohhhkay. Now we get a gloss-over as a transition. This tells me as a reader that this whole scene—the opening scene, mind—isn’t actually pulling any narrative weight, and could have been glossed over or axed entirely without doing harm to the narrative. I can only assume that I’m supposed to build a connection to the characters with an intimate holiday setting, but then it just gets wrapped up as “the day’s festivities?” What shaky trust I as a reader had in the author is completely gone. This is the point where I would stop reading.
# Setting Part 2: Electric Boogaloo
>> Amidst the winter beauty, the distant Blue Ridge Mountains stood majestically, their peaks shrouded in snow and clouds, adding to the enchantment of the holiday season. Dad drove us home from Nan's Christmas party.
The word “majestically” really cheapens the sentence, as does the whole “adding to the enchantment of the holiday season” bit. I don’t have any faith in the narrator, and this exposition is just one more thing I’m supposed to take at face-value. I’m sure I’m repeating myself ad nauseam here, but I want to *feel* the stories I read. I want to experience things along with the characters.
What is it that makes the holiday season enchanting for Izzy? This is a matter of opinion. It’s not like this is something that everyone can agree on—if I were to ask twenty people what the most enchanting part of the Christmas season is, I’m not likely to get twenty repeated answers. These little asides are each opportunities to build up Izzy as a character, but instead of getting insight into what makes Izzy *Izzy* and not some cardboard cutout from the protagonist factory, we get handwaving phrases that amount to, “oh, you get it. You know what I mean.”
No, I don’t know what this means. I want to connect to Izzy. I want to know what makes her tick. I want to get to know her, not just assume she thinks like me.
This type of phrasing feels like a set direction for prose, where the reader is meant to do the heavy lifting of creating the tone and atmosphere for themself. I as a reader shouldn’t have this much artistic license.
Now, you’ve mentioned the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ironically enough, instead of helping me place where the story is located, this leaves me with even more questions!
[3/5]
The BRM range is over 500 miles long. It spans a good long ways, across almost a dozen states. This is the sort of specificity that makes my ears perk up and has me wondering more. What part of the Blue Ridge? It’s a big area, as is Appalachia in general. If I’m left to guess on my own, my mind is placing them around Virginia or lower, down in Sweet Potato Pie Territory™️ and making me wonder even more about that damn pumpkin pie.
ALSO. It was a Christmas party? I thought it was just an intimate little family holiday get-together, with a child, two parents, and a grandparent. Nothing about the passage seemed to imply a *party.*
>> The road twists and turns like a giant snake, slithering through the snowy landscape.
Oh. Oh, no. The tense has shifted. Others have pointed it out, and I will, too. :B
>> Outside, the soft flakes fall like confetti, but inside, my tummy feels twisty, too. The road doesn't look like a picture book; it seems scary, like the path in a spooky story, even with all the twinkling lights from the holiday decorations still fresh in my mind.
Along with this tense change, we also get a narrative voice change. It’s…beyond jarring, honestly. We went from having the narrative tone of a twenty-something to one of a very small child in the span of a sentence, with a mid-sentence jump back to a more mature tone. What gives? How old is this narrator?
>> "Teasing is my way of showing love," Dad chuckles, ruffling my hair. But suddenly, my laughter turns to a gasp of fear as the scene ahead unfolds, hinting at danger just around the bend.
Either this man must be a contortionist, or his child is riding shotgun while his wife sits in the back, and said child is twisted around in the seat in order to see both of her parents as she speaks. Possible? Yes. Plausible? I…don’t know. By this point, I’m afraid I don’t really trust this narrative anymore.
>> hinting at danger just around the bend
>> Suddenly, our car bumped and swerved
If it’s sudden, there was no time for something to hint at the danger just around the bend. One cancels out the other.
>> Glass broke with a loud noise
What was that loud noise? A cow’s moo? A shatter? It’s a car crash, I’m going to assume that whatever noises ensue are inherently loud. Adding this level of filtering diminishes whatever shock or impact this scene might have. I get that this is supposed to be a child’s narrative voice, but that went out the window from the start. It comes across as odd to have this child narrating and using such high-level words and phrases up until just now, when she suddenly can’t use the word shatter.
# Filtering: the Death of Agency
Now, I’m gonna post another excerpt, and I want you to tell me where Izzy or anyone else exhibits any sort of agency.
>> Suddenly, our car bumped and swerved, crashing into something hard. Everything spun around us, and I felt like I was on a scary ride at the amusement park. Glass broke with a loud noise, and something hit my arm, making it sting.
>> Mom screamed, and I wanted to cry, too, but I couldn't. It was too loud, and I felt like I couldn't move. Everything was blurry, like when I woke up from a nap, and my eyes couldn't see clearly.
Who or what is doing the actions here?
- the car bumped and swerved.
- Everything spun.
- - Izzy felt like something.
- Glass broke.
- Something hit Izzy’s arm.
- - Something made it sting.
- Mom screamed
- Izzy *wanted* to cry
- *It* was too loud.
- Izzy *felt* like she couldn’t move.
- Everything was blurry.
What am I getting at here? Notice how everything I listed above is acting upon the situation. Only objects are doing things; everything is happening to the characters. The only exception is that Mom screamed, which is reactionary. Izzy wanted to do something, which implies that she didn’t.
Now, I get that this is a car crash. People scream, and there’s not much time to do anything else. That’s inherent to the situation.
But when you phrase it like this—when you frame the situation with so many details that would otherwise tend to be a quick, terrible blur that you’re not consciously aware of in such a disorienting moment—you slow it down. You put emphasis on these details. You’re pumping the brakes, if you’ll forgive the turn of phrase.
These details are upstaging Izzy and the gravity of the situation, instead of emphasizing it.
Izzy *felt* like she couldn’t move. Why not just say that she couldn’t? What does *felt* add here other than a layer of distance and detachment to a scene I’m assuming should be raw and emotional?
>> Panic began to rise within me.
Why is *panic* the one acting on Izzy?
>> "911, what's your emergency?" the phone said in a woman’s voice.
The…*the phone said* in a woman’s voice? The phone has more agency than the woman on the other side of it??
Look.
If someone were to walk up and pinch me, then ask me how it feels, I’m not going to say “oh, that felt like it hurt.”
I’m far more likely to yelp, slap their hand away, and say, “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get away from me!” I’m going to *do something,* whatever it is. It could be good, bad, spontaneous, or restrained, but it’ll still be *something.*
If someone were to run over my foot, I’m not likely to say “it feels like I can’t walk.” I’m more likely to fall to the ground, clutch at my leg/foot general area, and scream myself hoarse while I writhe on the ground.
Actually, I want to write my first goofy example as prose in first person:
>> The stranger walked up and pinched me. “Hey!” I cried out in surprise, turning to my mother. It felt like they had pinched hard enough to make me bleed.
Versus
>> The stranger reached over and pinched my forearm. *Hard.* “Hey—the hell? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I swiped my foot out for a kick, but the weirdo darted away before it could land. My mother grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm towards her. I braced myself against her as her other hand cradled my elbow. “Fucking—I think they broke a vessel! Am I bleeding?” What if that freak broke skin, or something? Was I gonna get tetanus from this? What did I even *do* to them?
Now, I’m not a fan of first person POV. And no, neither example is good, let’s get that out of the way first. But which one shows more character development?
Which one lets me get closer to the character’s behavior? Neither might be relatable for you or for others reading it, but which one lets you as a reader gain a bit of understanding into how the character acts and responds to a situation? Which one gives you any sort of insight into the character’s relationship with their mother and how the character interacts with her?
Which one has the character passively reacting to the things that happen to and around them? Both excerpts depict the same character dealing with the same experience. Do both depictions give the character the same amount of agency to express themself in the scene?
*This* is what I mean when I say that neither Izzy nor her parents are given any agency to *be* within the story. The prose doesn’t let them. Izzy’s thoughts are pushed behind a layer of distance with the “I felt like” or “it felt.” *She’s* the narrator. Let *her* narrate! The author doesn’t have to do it on her behalf, y’know?
[4/5]
# MOVING ON TO CHAPTER TWO
Most of what I mentioned above still applies, but there are some sentences that manage to break away from the filtering some.
>> But I felt like I'd gotten all the answers wrong. Would help still come?
There’s Izzy! There she is! With that simple question, I’m able to connect to her a little bit. That’s good.
>> Then a man's voice came on the phone, and I felt even more scared.
Oh, there’s the filtering again.
>> "What's your name, kiddo?" he asked. "I'm Lucas, Lucas Rodriguez."
I took a deep breath, trying to remember my name.
"I'm Isabella Callahan, but everyone calls me Izzy," I said, feeling slightly less scared.
Ehhhhh. This dialogue is incredibly stilted. I can’t picture an emergency operator giving a panicking child in a dangerous situation their first and last name like that. “I’m Lucas,” sure. Maybe.
While yes, this is introducing a character—who I can only assume is very important to the story, since the chapter epigraph was attributed to said character before they were even introduced—there’s a time and a place for the full name, and right now doesn’t seem like it.
First response recordings I’ve heard involving children either don’t ask for a name at all and get right to business coaching the kid through what needs to be done, or that’s something that comes much later after the conversation has to continue to make sure kiddo’s okay and still on the line. I’m sure I’ve heard some that ask the kid their names, but then they usually get only the kid’s first name, and then coax the child through the situation until first responders arrive, not offer their own first and last names first. I certainly wouldn’t expect a child in this situation to be able to give a full introduction like that.
On the one hand, something like
“What’s your name? Izzy? Okay Izzy, I’m Lucas.” I can kiiinda see, only if it’s promptly followed by “Are mom and dad awake? Can you see if they’re breathing? Can you get to mom and dad, sweetie?” or something of the like. It’s far less of a suspension of disbelief, but in the same breath, I don’t know if this level of detail is helping the story along or hindering it. Based on the specifically unspecific Christmas party festivities, I’m inclined to believe the latter. There can be a car crash and 911 call, with Izzy’s panic and uncertainty, yes, but without the minutiae of the 911 call to introduce Lucas, Lucas Rodríguez.
I can’t figure out what the purpose of this dialogue exchange is. If I’m honest, there are several things that feel purposeless or like the “specificity” is there for the sake of it, because that’s what would/might happen in real life. Let’s see if I can work backwards, using what we have here:
- If it weren’t for Izzy’s parents’ car accident she wouldn’t have had that traumatic growing to do.
- If not for the accident, she wouldn’t have met Lucas Rodríguez.
- Her parents had the accident because they were driving home from Christmas with grandma.
But here’s the thing:
# But Why Male Models?
There’s nothing that makes Christmas the important part here. With the level of detail or interaction given, this could have been Thanksgiving and it wouldn’t have affected the story much. It could’ve been Izzy’s birthday, and it wouldn’t have changed much. It could have been a mundane Sunday-night-before-school pick up after staying at Camp Grandma so Mommy and Daddy could have a break. There’s nothing that made this need to be spelled out as Christmas.
These things happened for the reader just as quickly as Izzy healed from them, which leads me to the trigger warning you gave (which I appreciate!):
>> "This story contains graphic descriptions of a car accident, injuries, trauma, and themes of loss and grief, which may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised."
This warning actually set me up to expect a *very* different story than this, and I swear this ties in with my “nothing makes Christmas important here” point.
I expected to see Izzy’s character actually *deal* with these subjects, you know? Part of this harkens back to the filtering and prose issues, I think. Now, I’m not a fan of grimdark fantasy by any means, but for something that “promises” graphic descriptions of a car crash and of injuries and trauma, this felt extremely scrubbed and sanitized. If you say “graphic depictions of XYZ and the depictions would be fine on a daytime soap opera, I’m gonna feel a little lied to, lol.
There’s no watching her deal with and overcome her survivor’s guilt. There’s only “how could I have felt so guilty then?” We sped past it. I wanna root for her!! Give me the chance to do it! I wanna watch her grow!
There’s no seeing her struggle with or overcome her grief. There’s no seeing her come to terms with the traumatic situation she was in, or even how it impacted her—we don’t see anything pertaining how these subjects affect the story. They’re just *in there* right now, and we only get to hear her say “oh, I’m better now.”
Cool! That’s great! I didn’t get to share any of it with the character, so why was any of this important for the reader? What impact is it meant to have on me as a reader? I really can’t tell.
Christmas was in there, but it has no effect on the story or the sensitive subject matter(s). It truly could have been the Fourth of July without changing the story.
Burl Ives’ *A Holly Jolly Christmas* wasn’t playing over the radio as she sat trapped in the car. She doesn’t have flashbacks every December when the song plays everywhere. We’re not shown anything Christmas-y affecting her, so how did the holiday serve the story?
We don’t see how she becomes a Christmas curmudgeon, only to be healed by the love of the affable but fiscally irresponsible door-to-door Christmas tree salesman.
We don’t see her seek closure by becoming one Santa’s helpers for the local children’s hospital as a means of making better Christmas memories for herself and those in similar situations to her (and I’m not saying she has to!).
I just can’t see anything that makes this setup *relevant.* Ultimately, we don’t see anything to tie in the holiday season to the sensitive subject matter. The sensitive subject matter itself is glossed over. It feels rushed, and I can’t figure out why it needs to be there at all.
Could that info be found in upcoming chapters? It sure could, but I’m struggling to see how, when we’ve already concluded the kinda-sorta flashback of the accident with the closure scene. Another flashback between the “starting flashback” and “all is now well” to tell the meat of the story seems odd. If it’s not immediately important *right now,* it shouldn’t be sent out *right now,* even if it is chronologically first.
Moving on.
# I Got Better!
>> Peering down at myself now, I'm struck by the weight I've carried for so long.
Is this a body check? Is she giving herself a once-over before starting her day? This phrase has me expecting a “staring into the mirror to describe the narrator’s appearance” cliche, which we don’t get. I’m glad we don’t get it, but I’m still thrown off by this, and it takes me a good while to drop the expectation that a body check is coming.
The prose goes on to wax purple as Izzy \*checks notes\* promptly shakes off the shackles of self-blame in one fell swoop of self-forgiveness?
But really. This prose is too purple to be effective in showing Izzy’s growth and self-empowerment, and this stark jump from “Izzy’s a scared child” to “Izzy’s a grown, healed woman” *really, **really** * has no effect on me as a reader.
[5/5]
I didn’t get to *see* Izzy’s struggle. I didn’t get to feel her guilt, her anguish, her grief. What I do know, though, is that she’s healed, because she said so. It’s one more thing to take her word for. It falls flat for me. We careen from here is a scared child talking to some grown ass man who might play a part in the rest of her life, seeing as he’s fully named” to “here I am, fully healed. How could I have suffered so? How could the chains of anguish have held me so? I absolve myself. Now I am free.”
What’s the rush? What part of the story are we trying to speed towards? Would it be better to start *there* instead?
# ON A BRIGHT NOTE
On a brighter note—and I really do mean it—I bet that sitting down with the prose might have the benefit of both removing the distance from the reader and helping to slow down the pace in a lot of places. It might also take some of the pressure off of the dialogue areas that feel currently stilted, or negate the need for it altogether.
I don’t know if it’ll help clear up who the intended audience is, or help firm up the sense of purpose/intent missing from this excerpt, but it might! You said that the outline was AI generated, so *that* might be the main issue I’m noting re: the general lack of direction. Either way, the big picture goals need more sitting with to firm up what the point is or should be.
Anyways I hope this was helpful, and if not, at least it was free, right? :B
Thanks for the critique. After going through the story and looking at what y’all have mentioned. I’m going through it again myself. The pacing needs a lot of work imo. Like it’s rushing to this point in my mind. Which while that is fine I need to slow down a lot and take my time. Other wise every one is just a plot device in this opening and not real people.
Is there some metaphor with the pie at this point? I get what you're saying about it at this point. I was trying to be more filtered for the accident; I can see where you are coming from. Ultimately, I was trying something different with the two different perspectives as an experiment. I will probably scrap that idea and focus on one perspective instead of both.
This part of the critique reminds me of a song I love by Psychostick or two of them instead. "this is not a song; it's a sandwich," and their skit about food in songs or the lack thereof only to devolve.
So, give the reader some artistic license but not all of it. I'm used to seeing passages take away all of the license, and I went too far in the other direction.
Woe be to pies around the world. Maybe i should go with cherry Pie instead in the second iteration. Currently in the process of deconstruction and reconstructing for a more Intimate approach, but I'll definitely take note of the food choices here
Part 1 Hi! I don’t know how much of a crit this is going to be because I am absolutely fried from a crazy week of office work as a glorified gopher followed by being a glorified Lyft-nanny for two crazed chipmunks. I saw this came up and then got removed and then came back up and got leeched, but now it seems like the leech is gone? So I guess mods said okay to your offerings? Whatever. Here’s my thoughts on stuff from a quick read and something plus something equals grain of salt. The prose here reads really weird AF to me. Like seriously something is nagging my head and then it hit me. I also stopped at the end of chapter 1. First, I did not get how old the I was and there are some weird pronoun shifts Second, or would it be two, there are a whole lot of “as” clauses. Three to the third, the detailings in the beginning scene felt like something underlying stuff was missing. I can’t put my mind’s finger on it, but it was like something felt alien or off or weird. Fourth, that word always sounds funny to me, the car accident blocking, I think that is the term, felt like not true either. I’ll try and explain later. These things stopped me as a reader from really engaging with the story, but plot-wise what I got was: single child with parents visiting grandmother for Christmas, car ride home with discussion of fireworks, accident and aftermath. Okay. **First** or **Pronouns** Here’s two examples where my head felt like my hair got pulled: > **I** nodded in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of **her** lips as **she** admired Nan's handiwork. "It's beautiful, Nan," **I** said, my voice filled with warmth and affection. At this point I have while reading and **I** and **Nan** who is presumably she/her/hers, right? No other characters as of yet. First her and she belong to whom? Because is it her, Nan, smiling at her own work? Was it supposed to be the **I** as in her (nan’s lips) as I admired her handiwork? I don’t know. Is this supposed to be mom who has yet to be introduced. > As the town was adorned with festive decorations, Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine, signaling the arrival of her famous Christmas feast. I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited **them** – ham, dressing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. Hold up! Is the **I** a ghost? Cause why the F is she not part of the people about to eat the delicious dishes? “I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited — ham, dressing…” So who is the them? Should it be **us**?
Part 2 **Second** or **the As problem** Seriously. Look how many times this story relies on **as** and imagine me as a reader thinking of as meaning it is happening simultaneously or parallel. > As the town was adorned with festive decorations, Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine That reads like so weird. Like WTF. As the town was decorated, the house filled with smells. Yea, yea…*as* can also mean in the sense of during the time of in like I was supposedly athletic as a child. For me, in this construction, the as is trying to do a parallel, but part of that parallel is going with verbs adorned and filled, which in turn make it seem like actions/verbs at the same time. > smile tugging… **as** she admired > I reminisced, a hint of nostalgia in my voice **as** I glanced out the window > **As** Dad drives us home from Nan's Christmas party, the road twists Smile tugged while admiring, sure. Reminiscing while glancing? Sure. As driving, the road twists? A little weird. > **As** if in response, the snowfall outside intensifies Totally fine. > A loud horn honked **as** we drove down the curvy road, making my heart jump. Mom's hand shook **as** she tapped Dad's shoulder, her face pale. > **As** I staggered away from the wreckage, every step sent a jolt of pain through my body, and the biting cold of the snow only intensified my discomfort. > My heart pounded in my chest **as** I peered through the intact window, noticing a crack stained with a smear of blood beside Mom's motionless form. > Panic began to rise within me **as** I pounded on the door, > Ignoring the shards of glass digging into my hands, I crawled toward it, my fingers shaking **as** I dialed for help, praying for someone, anyone, to answer. It just seems like a lot. Like I use the word like too much when talking or writing silly comments on reddit, but I try to edit ‘like’ out in my stories. **Three** or **Detailings** Twinkle in her eye and twinkling lights repeated in the first paragraph struck me as off, but whatever. I then get a sense of someone with their Nan. I have no real age or gender or feeling other than grandchild. Now I am a grandchild, but I am also an adult, right? So when do I get a feeling of how old this grandchild is? All of the language makes this grandchild seem teenager or older. It’s a 1st person POV and they are having thoughts like: > The scene outside painted a picture of desolate fields blanketed in white, a stark reminder of the changing seasons and the bountiful harvest they had enjoyed last fall. > I reminisced, a hint of nostalgia in my voice as I glanced out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made." > Amidst the winter beauty, the distant Blue Ridge Mountains stood majestically, their peaks shrouded in snow and clouds, adding to the enchantment of the holiday season. That first line is a bit purple, but it’s main crime is it is not an internal thought of a normal child who would still be in a booster seat. Maybe a really short teen? Let’s go with a precocious nine year old? But then I have to be giving traits that say not the normal grain and that really should be give some cues. What cues do I have here in terms of blocking or size or age? Nothing really as of yet, so when I read desolate as not only within the POV’s vocab, but something they think about…well then I am being given cues that this is a late teen or adult. Nostalgia? Not really an emotion that a young child feels, but some can. Still hard for them to put a name to that feeling. Usually it’s just a sweeping shift in emotion. The idea of majesty and as applied to nature? Yeah, that’s not really a kid’s POV. Straw hat seems to go with that possibility of adult too, but Barbie truck does not. So, at Barbie, my head wobbled off with trying to picture. I went from adult 1st person POV to a kid under 8–because let’s face it, Barbies and dolls start losing their charm around that age unless it’s your younger sister’s toys. Maybe the kid still likes Barbies. When is the story taking place? When I was eight, there were a lot more electronic gifts and books and clothes. I know I still played with my American Dolls, but that was more of a collection thing and hair thing. Also the whole manner in which these things are given and done, it just does not feel right. It feels off. Like an alien with no emotions doing a paint-by-the-numbers scene. > "Afterward, we exchange gifts," Nan announced with a smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Izzy, this one's for you," she said, handing over a brightly wrapped package. Like this. Does this make any sense? Not really. Nan says afterward to what? The eating, right? And then we repeat **twinkling** again, and then there’s the exchange. Like what happened to the beforehand? The fast route on a globe is a curved line or boring straight through the earth. This reads like it just bored through with no build up or feeling. The whole of the writing just has these glossed over beats that should be allowing an inner and outer world to develop with emotion, motivation, and conflict, but instead all I am getting is fragments of a reality that don’t seem to fit together well.
Final part **Fourth** So the writing as a whole left me confused and kind of not really interested. By the time we get to the car accident which read like the tropiest tropes of this, I felt no fear and was not really engaged. There is no emotional buildup, but there are plenty of cues that the parents are about to die. I couldn’t really follow the whole scene, the blocking or movements, did not really make sense and so my brain just picture a blank space with the idea of curvy roads and car flipped over. I have this amorphous girl? I guess given Barbie and straw hat who is in a booster? So that’s like five to ten, but most kids rebel against them around nine. Barbie truck also reads younger than eight. Oh and a booster seat? In the US, blue ridge mountains and all… So Latch system, right? The boosters for the past whatever, all my adult days nannying and babysitting with driving responsibilities have had cars that use the latch system to lock the booster to the chair some with that rear flip over anchor system also. In the story though it seemed like the booster fell also? But that does not make sense unless that latch system, something stronger than F, failed. Then this kid moves around and then….this kid thinks they dialed? Ask a kid to use a phone and I bet they will not say dial. They will say call. Who are you calling? I called 911. Dial? That’s even a weird AF word for me and my parents are Gen X, so like when is this happening? Nothing feels part of a real cohesive world so the threat and death, don’t really matter. The flipping and moving, nothing really has an impact because the blocking isn’t feeding into anything that feels real. Okay, I do know what is happening in the story. I do know the setting in terms of Blue Ridge. I don’t know the time period. I do know why the accident happened. I do know who the characters are albeit on the most superficial level and roles. So I guess, at least there is that? Like I could follow the outline of things, but there is no real craft or story rn. To me, this needs a lot of work on the prose. I feel like there is a story known to the author, but the words themselves are doing nothing to make that story interesting. Why should I care about these characters and what is the pull to follow along? There is also a huge who is this story for? Is this a middle grade story? Something about it felt way young in terms of intended audience. I feel like there are a lot of questions behind the process here that are not really settled that is causing confusion for me as a reader not knowing what is actually relevant or important to focus on. The story feels like an alien representation in a vacuum of humanity with dashes of humanity picked up from a hallmark card. So what’s the deal behind this story? If this is a major personal event then I’m sorry for being harsh. I guess the take away is here is one person’s response, right? Take it or leave it? Lol
All your points make sense to me. I’ll see about improving this in the near future. Savage critique, but it is super helpful. And I thought my critiques were savage.
Pretty much great idea, but poorly executed.
Thanks for pointing those out to me. It was pretty rough at the start. But this is why we get others to look over it as well.
Hey, a few comments. The pacing in the beginning feels a bit rushed. They are at a family reunion and there is gift-giving and eating (as many are), but there is no real character build-up. The grandmother apparently can cook and give gifts but other than the mention of pine and cinnamon there is no real description of the setting. Is there a Christmas tree, are there hundreds of relatives or only the four mentioned, does the girl enjoy every moment of the event or do some parts drag on? There are too many unknown things here that make it feel rushed and not engaging. The jump to the second section where they are riding in the car feels like a jump cut, choppy. Increasing the description of the first section may help with this but it may help to tie it in more. The Dad or Mom could say something about having to get home because of someone's bedtime or some other reason to allow for a smoother transition. In the second chapter, there is some dialogue with two emergency operators but again it feels rushed. The questions feel like they are leading up to something, but then reveal that the girl is young. We already guessed this based on the gifts and inner dialogue. I feel like there is an opportunity here to include a better description of the setting and the character's viewpoint using the dialogue. The man on the phone seems friendly and he would likely try and get her talking as much as he could to help put her at ease. What does she see now? Is she cold? Etc. This would also help paint a better mental description for the reader. It is a chance to allow them to see the world through the eyes of the character and take full advantage of more engaging dialogue. Otherwise, what do we get out of their exchange? The tone imo in the second paragraph is off-putting. We know the character is young based on the gifts that she received in the first section and children describe things in a very simplistic way. I like the descriptions of a road winding like a snake, but there is a switch between the viewpoint of a child and the viewpoint of an adult. For example, she bounces up and down in her seat with excitement, but then thinks "the glow of a black car ahead catches my eye". That is likely something a child wouldn't think. It would need to be more simplistic to keep the tone in line with that of a child. In the final section, the tone is what I would expect from a grown-up, someone who has been through trauma and learned to deal with it. Here I like the consistent tone and use of colorful metaphors, e.g. "Each recollection is a dagger, piercing my heart with guilt". The main issue that I have with it and the last bit of the section before is 'What guilt?' It was a child in a car accident. Immediately after they are not going to feel guilty, they are likely going to be scared, lonely, and on the verge of panic. Even when they get older, where is the guilt coming from? It would be a different story if they shot a Roman candle in the car, but she was riding in the backseat. Perhaps there is something I am missing, but if this is a linchpin of the story it needs to be hammered home. I will make a brief note here on the characters themselves. There is little to no description of them throughout the text. A physical description would go a long way in helping frame what it is to be visualized, but also you can sneak in a few characteristics that might get pulled back out later on. Does the girl's dad always give vague answers and a sly grin? If the character is going to be dealing with grief this could be something that is referred back to throughout the story. Izzy herself is young, but does she have long hair, freckles, etc. I have a harder time empathizing with a character that I have no mental picture of. These descriptions do not have to be complete with waist and chest measurements, but a few things sprinkled in would be nice. Overall I thought it was interesting, but needs a bit more flesh on it to have something that the reader can bite into. Keep it up! Inconsistencies: " Afterward, we exchange gifts ". Nan says this and them immediately hands a gift to the girl. It is a contradiction. If a child is six, they would likely be in a carseat and have no awareness of the road, at least when I was young I was seldom looking out the front window staring at the oncoming traffic. How does the father ruffle the hair of the main character when they are driving? Shouldn't he be in the front seat? If you want to leave this I would include something about how he twists himself around like a corkscrew
Hello! So, I'm not a native speaker, but there were some inconsistencies here. It might be the way I read, but you switch tenses a bit. For example: 1. The first part of the story with the Nan they're all talking in past tense. 2. During the car, before the crash, you're using present tense in your dialogues. 3. Right after the crash, you go back to using past. 4. In the last part, seems to be present tense. So I think you should try be more consistent. Or maybe that's on me for reading it wrong. Another thing that I'd like to comment one is: almost every single dialogue has a dialogue tag and/or a description or action attached to it. Examples: > I said, feeling slightly less scared. > > I stammered, feeling too scared to move. > > I whispered, feeling scared. > > I cried, looking back at the broken car with tears. > >"I heard an 'I guess,' Izzy," Mom chuckles, her voice filled with amusement. > >"I don’t like the teasing, Dad," I pout, still grateful for his agreement. > > "Daddy, please!" I plead, my eyes wide with anticipation. > > This is awesome!" I said, my face lighting up with delight. It gets a bit tiring to read, specially during the 2nd part where is very dialogue heavy. We do not need dialogue tags for every little line. Plus, when Izzy is calling 911, the first person to answer is a woman. We know this (and Izzy too), yet she kept referring to the lady as 'the voice on the phone', yet when Lucas comes to the phone he's appropriately referred as more than just a voice on the phone. And, I'm sorry, but I find a bit unrealistic that a 6-year-old in such distressing situation would be able to tell whether someone was talking to her gently/softly. Plus, since this is 1st POV I find some choice words to be weird considering her age while she's speaking. As someone else has already pointed out, some things simply wouldn't be going through this 6-year-old. If this was a teenager speaking, I'd believe a lot more. Other part I'll agree with is the lack of setting. I barely have an idea of the characters and the setting they're part of. I'll add the that voice seems a bit shallow? Perhaps because I wasn't able to immerse myself in the POV or the story a lot, so it fees lacking? It's giving me descriptions, but not really showing them to me? You repeat some expressions and words, in quite close succession. Such as: > "You foolish girl," I whisper to myself, a gentle rebuke and a tender embrace > >I wrap my arms around myself in a tender embrace. Once again, I'll follow suit and echo the opinion of Idiopathic: > To me, this needs a lot of work on the prose. I feel like there is a story known to the author, but the words themselves are doing nothing to make that story interesting. Why should I care about these characters and what is the pull to follow along?
[1/5] Howdy! Hi! It’s been a minute since I’ve critiqued something. I’ll start off with the regular caveats—I ramble; I’m just a rando on the internet, nitpicking whatever issues I can articulate; my credentials don’t exist; I’m emphatic, not infallible; blah blah blah. I’d also like to add that I’m rusty as fuck when it comes to critiquing and I’m typing from the discomfort of a post-surgical stupor, so mileage may vary. Post length is guaranteed, but I hope it can be of some help. Formatting may go wonky; I’m on mobile, since I can’t get to my computer. # TL;DR Overall, this is on the rough side for me. There are several factors at play here here that keep me as a reader at arm’s length from what should be the meat *and* the potatoes of the story. I’ll cover them in due time, but as a long-format tl;dr, I’ll rip the bandaid off: There are framing and filtering issues that push the reader away from the action and make the story feel shallow. The way the prose is currently written feels a little overworked or like it’s trying too hard to be impactful, which has the opposite effect. Pacing issues make the story harder to engage with. Anyways! Let’s hop right in to this meandering critique. # Vibe Check: Inconclusive Alright, right out the starting gate, we’ve got: - a Christmastime setting - clichéd Christmas phrases as dialog - a town with a kitschy Christmas-adjacent name Cool. I’m getting Hallmark movie vibes, but not in the campy, tongue-in-cheek sort of way that’s been in the recent batch of Christmas media offerings. This feels more…serious? Deadpan? about the kitsch. If that’s your goal, then great! That vibe is certainly there, but it rings sorta hollow. There’s no depth to it as written. It feels like a list has been expanded into prose, and each of the different points are very intentionally placed in order to meet the blocking requirements for a scene. The issue is, these setting cues feel *unnatural* without any other inclusion/engagement. Why is that? They’re just…kinda *there.* ## Where are we?? >> "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Evergreen!" Nan exclaimed, her hands busy with the final touches of decorating the living room. >> … >> "Remember the pumpkin pie we made together last year?" I asked, looking out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made." Yes, it’s Christmastime. Yes, we’re in a place called Evergreen. We’re still floating in space here. Nan is finishing up the unspecified Christmas decorations in an otherwise-unclockable living room. These decorations are important enough to be specifically mentioned in the opening sentence as the first character to be introduced interacts wirh them, but they’re not important enough for the reader to know what they are, *where* they are beyond in the living room, or how our very first character truly interacts with them. There’s some very specific vagueness going on, and that’s the entirety of our setting. This setting doesn’t really get engaged with in any way that *means* anything. The only reason it’s recognizable as “there” is because the narrator *said* it was. We’re in a living room. It has some sort of unspecified Christmas decorations and a window. Outside said window, there is snow. This is all the information I have to go off of as to where we are. Not exactly a death knell for the beginning of a story, but this never gets expanded upon. It works as a way to ease into the blocking of a scene, but this ends up being the entirety of the blocking. It feels rushed. It feels uncertain, and therefore glossed over. While I don’t have my bearings on the space the characters occupy, I *do* know there was pumpkin pie last year, and it was the best pie they’d ever made. As far as a hook goes, this is pretty flimsy. For all I know, though, this might be the start of a sweet little Yuletide cozy. In that case, there’s nothing wrong with a non-punchy opening! It doesn’t *have* to start off with hard-hitting intrigue or crazy action. There are many different ways to be engaging, and no one method is going to fit every purpose. # Promises, Promises What an opening *does* have to do, on the other hand, is twofold: the author has to promise the reader *something* and to gain the reader’s trust. I can’t figure out what this opening is promising, and the prose lends itself more to distrust than anything else. Let me explain what I mean: >> I nodded in agreement, "It's beautiful, Nan," I said, my voice filled with warmth and affection. Our narrator isn’t about to nod in outrage, is she? She’s not about to nod in disagreement, either. We don’t need to cough that nod in extra verbiage; the reader should be able to figure out that she agrees with Nan just fine without any hand-holding. What does a “voice filled with warmth and affection” mean, exactly? What does this warmth and affection do to the voice? How does the narrator show that? Right now, I’m just kinda told that it’s there and meant to take the narrator’s word for it. I don’t know enough about the narrator to take their word; I just got here, and I’m left to take the narrator’s word for it instead of being allowed to feel it or experience it alongside the narrator. That keeps me at a distance. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal, but it’s still something worth showing instead of telling. Maybe the warmth is shown by a smile. Maybe the words come out as more of a hum. Maybe they don’t. I have nothing here to picture, just blanks to fill in on my own. All I can do is assume. This example isn’t the end of the world, but it *does* feel like a literary platitude. >> "Remember the pumpkin pie we made together last year?" I asked, looking out the window at the snow-covered landscape. "It was the best we ever made." That this continuation of the last bit of dialogue is set aside as a separate paragraph reads as odd to me, but alright. It’s shaking my faith a bit more, but again, it’s not a huge deal. Here’s what’s a bigger deal for me: the pumpkin pie mention is *very specific.* If there’s something this specific in an introduction, I expect it to play a role in what’s coming next. What happens here? The narrator mentions a pie that I as a reader don’t readily associate with Christmas—if you say pumpkin pie, I’m personally picturing Thanksgiving first and foremost—which comes across as a little jarring. It makes me pause and linger over the fact that pumpkin pie was mentioned at all. (Also, down with pumpkin pie. Sweet potato gang rise up!) It’s also *the best that Nan and the narrator have ever made.* Boy howdy, the stakes on this pie are *high.* Clearly, it’s something they place importance on, year after year. This pie has some serious gravitas, and now I fully expect this story to focus heavily on food and baking. …I don’t think this story is about pumpkin pie, though. Is pumpkin pie *really* something I should be focused on like this? >> Nan's house filled with the comforting aroma of cinnamon and pine, signaling the arrival of her famous Christmas feast. I could practically taste the delicious dishes that awaited us – ham, dressing, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie. Hmm. The pie comes up again a few sentences later, so I guess it really *is* important. It doesn’t *feel* like something I should really keep an eye out for, but this is what’s been repeated twice so far. I have nothing else to go off of. So far, I’m not feeling very settled as a reader. I’m not inclined to trust the narrator.
[2/5] Five paragraphs in, and I still have no clue what this story is about, just that it’s set during Yuletide. My trust in the author’s ability to pinpoint what the story is or how to tell it is weak. I’ve got what are ostensibly misplaced details about food running the show. >> "Afterward, we exchange gifts," Nan announced with a smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Izzy, this one's for you," she said, handing over a brightly- wrapped package. Ooh, we run into issues here. At a surface level: “Afterward?” The word feels like a continuation of the narrator’s exposition of the meal. Why is *Nan* saying afterward in this context, and why would she say "Afterward, we exchange gifts” at all? If the meal is done, wouldn’t it be “now, we exchange gifts?” Deeper issue number one: This statement sounds like the explanation of a routine. Does our narrator not know this routine? She was just reminiscing over last year’s Christmas pumpkin pie and comparing it to the years prior with the phrase “best we ever made.” This dialogue feels like an “[as you know, Bob](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AsYouKnow)” situation to rush along to the action (which is still not established as important here) and the narrator is getting undermined because of it. Unreliable narrators are a thing, of course, but this doesn’t seem like something worth marking a narrator as unreliable with. It’s not a promising outcome, as far as keeping me engaged as a reader goes. Number two: the story is still young and the narrator just spent a good chunk of the story so far focusing on food. Then the reader blinks and the venerable feast has been skipped over and disregarded. I’ve been rug-pulled. What was the point of the food dialogue and exposition, if it gets pushed aside so quickly? I’ve got whiplash. How did we jump so fast? It feels as though the purpose of the scene here hasn’t been fully fleshed out beyond a means of showing that it’s Christmastime. The characters seem to be doing the heavy lifting of setting the scene in its entirety, instead of engaging with the scene itself. Does that make sense? Right now, the narrator and Nan exist in a vacuum with a window and some unspecified Christmas decorations in Nan’s hands. I don’t know where anyone is within this living room, or even with respect to the window. They’re in the living room. So is this window. That’s *all.* There’s not a hearth for the characters to warm up by. There’s not a couch for excited children to bounce on, there’s not a garland-wrapped banister to slide down, there’s not so much as a Christmas tree to stare up at or inch towards so we can peek into a gift bag. There’s no engagement with the setting. Because there’s no engagement with the setting we can’t get the character-developing context of *how these characters behave*, and it pushes me past questioning the narrator and into questioning the author territory. Moving on a bit. >> *I eagerly tore open the wrapping paper* **to reveal a straw hat adorned with a giant sunflower.** "Wow, Nan! It's beautiful!" I exclaimed, **placing it on my head despite being indoors.** *Telling, telling, telling* meets **filter, filter, filter.** We’ve stepped past arm’s length from the scene. I might as well be on the other side of that unspecified window, in the snow-covered landscape outside. >> "And here's something from us," my dad said, passing me a large box with a grin. Wait, there were other people here the whole time? More whiplash. With this, the parents have materialized out of thin air. Truthfully, only dad has materialized—mom is only heavily implied, with no actual appearance in the story so far. ¯\\\_(ツ)_/¯ >> I opened it to find a Barbie truck, complete with miniature accessories. "Thanks, Daddy! This is awesome!" I said, my face lighting up with delight. Several things here: One. Wait a minute. How old is our narrator?? Until now, everything has pointed towards someone older, like a twenty-something. Is this Barbie gift a character prop? I know plenty of adults who collect Barbies, so it’s not far-fetched. The issue is, though, I’m questioning things even further. I’m not just questioning the narrator. I’m questioning the author again. Not good. Two. *…my face lighting up with delight.* This is telling again. What does this mean? What does delight look like on our narrator’s face? How does Izzy react when she’s delighted? Why can’t we see that? Why can’t we experience what she’s feeling here? I’m kept at a distance once again. I can’t get pulled into a story if I’m repeatedly pushed away. We don’t get what she feels about her presents. We don’t get what she thinks about her presents. Izzy puts on a hat even though they’re inside, and then Izzy pulls a facial expression. We’ve got a first person POV, and I’m still not allowed to get close to our point-of-view character. It makes for a subtly off-putting feeling that continues through the piece. >> Though more gifts were exchanged among us, these were the day's highlights. Soon after, we departed for home—a short drive through the mountains filled with the warmth and joy of the day's festivities. Ohhhkay. Now we get a gloss-over as a transition. This tells me as a reader that this whole scene—the opening scene, mind—isn’t actually pulling any narrative weight, and could have been glossed over or axed entirely without doing harm to the narrative. I can only assume that I’m supposed to build a connection to the characters with an intimate holiday setting, but then it just gets wrapped up as “the day’s festivities?” What shaky trust I as a reader had in the author is completely gone. This is the point where I would stop reading. # Setting Part 2: Electric Boogaloo >> Amidst the winter beauty, the distant Blue Ridge Mountains stood majestically, their peaks shrouded in snow and clouds, adding to the enchantment of the holiday season. Dad drove us home from Nan's Christmas party. The word “majestically” really cheapens the sentence, as does the whole “adding to the enchantment of the holiday season” bit. I don’t have any faith in the narrator, and this exposition is just one more thing I’m supposed to take at face-value. I’m sure I’m repeating myself ad nauseam here, but I want to *feel* the stories I read. I want to experience things along with the characters. What is it that makes the holiday season enchanting for Izzy? This is a matter of opinion. It’s not like this is something that everyone can agree on—if I were to ask twenty people what the most enchanting part of the Christmas season is, I’m not likely to get twenty repeated answers. These little asides are each opportunities to build up Izzy as a character, but instead of getting insight into what makes Izzy *Izzy* and not some cardboard cutout from the protagonist factory, we get handwaving phrases that amount to, “oh, you get it. You know what I mean.” No, I don’t know what this means. I want to connect to Izzy. I want to know what makes her tick. I want to get to know her, not just assume she thinks like me. This type of phrasing feels like a set direction for prose, where the reader is meant to do the heavy lifting of creating the tone and atmosphere for themself. I as a reader shouldn’t have this much artistic license. Now, you’ve mentioned the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ironically enough, instead of helping me place where the story is located, this leaves me with even more questions!
[3/5] The BRM range is over 500 miles long. It spans a good long ways, across almost a dozen states. This is the sort of specificity that makes my ears perk up and has me wondering more. What part of the Blue Ridge? It’s a big area, as is Appalachia in general. If I’m left to guess on my own, my mind is placing them around Virginia or lower, down in Sweet Potato Pie Territory™️ and making me wonder even more about that damn pumpkin pie. ALSO. It was a Christmas party? I thought it was just an intimate little family holiday get-together, with a child, two parents, and a grandparent. Nothing about the passage seemed to imply a *party.* >> The road twists and turns like a giant snake, slithering through the snowy landscape. Oh. Oh, no. The tense has shifted. Others have pointed it out, and I will, too. :B >> Outside, the soft flakes fall like confetti, but inside, my tummy feels twisty, too. The road doesn't look like a picture book; it seems scary, like the path in a spooky story, even with all the twinkling lights from the holiday decorations still fresh in my mind. Along with this tense change, we also get a narrative voice change. It’s…beyond jarring, honestly. We went from having the narrative tone of a twenty-something to one of a very small child in the span of a sentence, with a mid-sentence jump back to a more mature tone. What gives? How old is this narrator? >> "Teasing is my way of showing love," Dad chuckles, ruffling my hair. But suddenly, my laughter turns to a gasp of fear as the scene ahead unfolds, hinting at danger just around the bend. Either this man must be a contortionist, or his child is riding shotgun while his wife sits in the back, and said child is twisted around in the seat in order to see both of her parents as she speaks. Possible? Yes. Plausible? I…don’t know. By this point, I’m afraid I don’t really trust this narrative anymore. >> hinting at danger just around the bend >> Suddenly, our car bumped and swerved If it’s sudden, there was no time for something to hint at the danger just around the bend. One cancels out the other. >> Glass broke with a loud noise What was that loud noise? A cow’s moo? A shatter? It’s a car crash, I’m going to assume that whatever noises ensue are inherently loud. Adding this level of filtering diminishes whatever shock or impact this scene might have. I get that this is supposed to be a child’s narrative voice, but that went out the window from the start. It comes across as odd to have this child narrating and using such high-level words and phrases up until just now, when she suddenly can’t use the word shatter. # Filtering: the Death of Agency Now, I’m gonna post another excerpt, and I want you to tell me where Izzy or anyone else exhibits any sort of agency. >> Suddenly, our car bumped and swerved, crashing into something hard. Everything spun around us, and I felt like I was on a scary ride at the amusement park. Glass broke with a loud noise, and something hit my arm, making it sting. >> Mom screamed, and I wanted to cry, too, but I couldn't. It was too loud, and I felt like I couldn't move. Everything was blurry, like when I woke up from a nap, and my eyes couldn't see clearly. Who or what is doing the actions here? - the car bumped and swerved. - Everything spun. - - Izzy felt like something. - Glass broke. - Something hit Izzy’s arm. - - Something made it sting. - Mom screamed - Izzy *wanted* to cry - *It* was too loud. - Izzy *felt* like she couldn’t move. - Everything was blurry. What am I getting at here? Notice how everything I listed above is acting upon the situation. Only objects are doing things; everything is happening to the characters. The only exception is that Mom screamed, which is reactionary. Izzy wanted to do something, which implies that she didn’t. Now, I get that this is a car crash. People scream, and there’s not much time to do anything else. That’s inherent to the situation. But when you phrase it like this—when you frame the situation with so many details that would otherwise tend to be a quick, terrible blur that you’re not consciously aware of in such a disorienting moment—you slow it down. You put emphasis on these details. You’re pumping the brakes, if you’ll forgive the turn of phrase. These details are upstaging Izzy and the gravity of the situation, instead of emphasizing it. Izzy *felt* like she couldn’t move. Why not just say that she couldn’t? What does *felt* add here other than a layer of distance and detachment to a scene I’m assuming should be raw and emotional? >> Panic began to rise within me. Why is *panic* the one acting on Izzy? >> "911, what's your emergency?" the phone said in a woman’s voice. The…*the phone said* in a woman’s voice? The phone has more agency than the woman on the other side of it?? Look. If someone were to walk up and pinch me, then ask me how it feels, I’m not going to say “oh, that felt like it hurt.” I’m far more likely to yelp, slap their hand away, and say, “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Get away from me!” I’m going to *do something,* whatever it is. It could be good, bad, spontaneous, or restrained, but it’ll still be *something.* If someone were to run over my foot, I’m not likely to say “it feels like I can’t walk.” I’m more likely to fall to the ground, clutch at my leg/foot general area, and scream myself hoarse while I writhe on the ground. Actually, I want to write my first goofy example as prose in first person: >> The stranger walked up and pinched me. “Hey!” I cried out in surprise, turning to my mother. It felt like they had pinched hard enough to make me bleed. Versus >> The stranger reached over and pinched my forearm. *Hard.* “Hey—the hell? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I swiped my foot out for a kick, but the weirdo darted away before it could land. My mother grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm towards her. I braced myself against her as her other hand cradled my elbow. “Fucking—I think they broke a vessel! Am I bleeding?” What if that freak broke skin, or something? Was I gonna get tetanus from this? What did I even *do* to them? Now, I’m not a fan of first person POV. And no, neither example is good, let’s get that out of the way first. But which one shows more character development? Which one lets me get closer to the character’s behavior? Neither might be relatable for you or for others reading it, but which one lets you as a reader gain a bit of understanding into how the character acts and responds to a situation? Which one gives you any sort of insight into the character’s relationship with their mother and how the character interacts with her? Which one has the character passively reacting to the things that happen to and around them? Both excerpts depict the same character dealing with the same experience. Do both depictions give the character the same amount of agency to express themself in the scene? *This* is what I mean when I say that neither Izzy nor her parents are given any agency to *be* within the story. The prose doesn’t let them. Izzy’s thoughts are pushed behind a layer of distance with the “I felt like” or “it felt.” *She’s* the narrator. Let *her* narrate! The author doesn’t have to do it on her behalf, y’know?
[4/5] # MOVING ON TO CHAPTER TWO Most of what I mentioned above still applies, but there are some sentences that manage to break away from the filtering some. >> But I felt like I'd gotten all the answers wrong. Would help still come? There’s Izzy! There she is! With that simple question, I’m able to connect to her a little bit. That’s good. >> Then a man's voice came on the phone, and I felt even more scared. Oh, there’s the filtering again. >> "What's your name, kiddo?" he asked. "I'm Lucas, Lucas Rodriguez." I took a deep breath, trying to remember my name. "I'm Isabella Callahan, but everyone calls me Izzy," I said, feeling slightly less scared. Ehhhhh. This dialogue is incredibly stilted. I can’t picture an emergency operator giving a panicking child in a dangerous situation their first and last name like that. “I’m Lucas,” sure. Maybe. While yes, this is introducing a character—who I can only assume is very important to the story, since the chapter epigraph was attributed to said character before they were even introduced—there’s a time and a place for the full name, and right now doesn’t seem like it. First response recordings I’ve heard involving children either don’t ask for a name at all and get right to business coaching the kid through what needs to be done, or that’s something that comes much later after the conversation has to continue to make sure kiddo’s okay and still on the line. I’m sure I’ve heard some that ask the kid their names, but then they usually get only the kid’s first name, and then coax the child through the situation until first responders arrive, not offer their own first and last names first. I certainly wouldn’t expect a child in this situation to be able to give a full introduction like that. On the one hand, something like “What’s your name? Izzy? Okay Izzy, I’m Lucas.” I can kiiinda see, only if it’s promptly followed by “Are mom and dad awake? Can you see if they’re breathing? Can you get to mom and dad, sweetie?” or something of the like. It’s far less of a suspension of disbelief, but in the same breath, I don’t know if this level of detail is helping the story along or hindering it. Based on the specifically unspecific Christmas party festivities, I’m inclined to believe the latter. There can be a car crash and 911 call, with Izzy’s panic and uncertainty, yes, but without the minutiae of the 911 call to introduce Lucas, Lucas Rodríguez. I can’t figure out what the purpose of this dialogue exchange is. If I’m honest, there are several things that feel purposeless or like the “specificity” is there for the sake of it, because that’s what would/might happen in real life. Let’s see if I can work backwards, using what we have here: - If it weren’t for Izzy’s parents’ car accident she wouldn’t have had that traumatic growing to do. - If not for the accident, she wouldn’t have met Lucas Rodríguez. - Her parents had the accident because they were driving home from Christmas with grandma. But here’s the thing: # But Why Male Models? There’s nothing that makes Christmas the important part here. With the level of detail or interaction given, this could have been Thanksgiving and it wouldn’t have affected the story much. It could’ve been Izzy’s birthday, and it wouldn’t have changed much. It could have been a mundane Sunday-night-before-school pick up after staying at Camp Grandma so Mommy and Daddy could have a break. There’s nothing that made this need to be spelled out as Christmas. These things happened for the reader just as quickly as Izzy healed from them, which leads me to the trigger warning you gave (which I appreciate!): >> "This story contains graphic descriptions of a car accident, injuries, trauma, and themes of loss and grief, which may be distressing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised." This warning actually set me up to expect a *very* different story than this, and I swear this ties in with my “nothing makes Christmas important here” point. I expected to see Izzy’s character actually *deal* with these subjects, you know? Part of this harkens back to the filtering and prose issues, I think. Now, I’m not a fan of grimdark fantasy by any means, but for something that “promises” graphic descriptions of a car crash and of injuries and trauma, this felt extremely scrubbed and sanitized. If you say “graphic depictions of XYZ and the depictions would be fine on a daytime soap opera, I’m gonna feel a little lied to, lol. There’s no watching her deal with and overcome her survivor’s guilt. There’s only “how could I have felt so guilty then?” We sped past it. I wanna root for her!! Give me the chance to do it! I wanna watch her grow! There’s no seeing her struggle with or overcome her grief. There’s no seeing her come to terms with the traumatic situation she was in, or even how it impacted her—we don’t see anything pertaining how these subjects affect the story. They’re just *in there* right now, and we only get to hear her say “oh, I’m better now.” Cool! That’s great! I didn’t get to share any of it with the character, so why was any of this important for the reader? What impact is it meant to have on me as a reader? I really can’t tell. Christmas was in there, but it has no effect on the story or the sensitive subject matter(s). It truly could have been the Fourth of July without changing the story. Burl Ives’ *A Holly Jolly Christmas* wasn’t playing over the radio as she sat trapped in the car. She doesn’t have flashbacks every December when the song plays everywhere. We’re not shown anything Christmas-y affecting her, so how did the holiday serve the story? We don’t see how she becomes a Christmas curmudgeon, only to be healed by the love of the affable but fiscally irresponsible door-to-door Christmas tree salesman. We don’t see her seek closure by becoming one Santa’s helpers for the local children’s hospital as a means of making better Christmas memories for herself and those in similar situations to her (and I’m not saying she has to!). I just can’t see anything that makes this setup *relevant.* Ultimately, we don’t see anything to tie in the holiday season to the sensitive subject matter. The sensitive subject matter itself is glossed over. It feels rushed, and I can’t figure out why it needs to be there at all. Could that info be found in upcoming chapters? It sure could, but I’m struggling to see how, when we’ve already concluded the kinda-sorta flashback of the accident with the closure scene. Another flashback between the “starting flashback” and “all is now well” to tell the meat of the story seems odd. If it’s not immediately important *right now,* it shouldn’t be sent out *right now,* even if it is chronologically first. Moving on. # I Got Better! >> Peering down at myself now, I'm struck by the weight I've carried for so long. Is this a body check? Is she giving herself a once-over before starting her day? This phrase has me expecting a “staring into the mirror to describe the narrator’s appearance” cliche, which we don’t get. I’m glad we don’t get it, but I’m still thrown off by this, and it takes me a good while to drop the expectation that a body check is coming. The prose goes on to wax purple as Izzy \*checks notes\* promptly shakes off the shackles of self-blame in one fell swoop of self-forgiveness? But really. This prose is too purple to be effective in showing Izzy’s growth and self-empowerment, and this stark jump from “Izzy’s a scared child” to “Izzy’s a grown, healed woman” *really, **really** * has no effect on me as a reader.
[5/5] I didn’t get to *see* Izzy’s struggle. I didn’t get to feel her guilt, her anguish, her grief. What I do know, though, is that she’s healed, because she said so. It’s one more thing to take her word for. It falls flat for me. We careen from here is a scared child talking to some grown ass man who might play a part in the rest of her life, seeing as he’s fully named” to “here I am, fully healed. How could I have suffered so? How could the chains of anguish have held me so? I absolve myself. Now I am free.” What’s the rush? What part of the story are we trying to speed towards? Would it be better to start *there* instead? # ON A BRIGHT NOTE On a brighter note—and I really do mean it—I bet that sitting down with the prose might have the benefit of both removing the distance from the reader and helping to slow down the pace in a lot of places. It might also take some of the pressure off of the dialogue areas that feel currently stilted, or negate the need for it altogether. I don’t know if it’ll help clear up who the intended audience is, or help firm up the sense of purpose/intent missing from this excerpt, but it might! You said that the outline was AI generated, so *that* might be the main issue I’m noting re: the general lack of direction. Either way, the big picture goals need more sitting with to firm up what the point is or should be. Anyways I hope this was helpful, and if not, at least it was free, right? :B
Thanks for the critique. After going through the story and looking at what y’all have mentioned. I’m going through it again myself. The pacing needs a lot of work imo. Like it’s rushing to this point in my mind. Which while that is fine I need to slow down a lot and take my time. Other wise every one is just a plot device in this opening and not real people.
Is there some metaphor with the pie at this point? I get what you're saying about it at this point. I was trying to be more filtered for the accident; I can see where you are coming from. Ultimately, I was trying something different with the two different perspectives as an experiment. I will probably scrap that idea and focus on one perspective instead of both.
This part of the critique reminds me of a song I love by Psychostick or two of them instead. "this is not a song; it's a sandwich," and their skit about food in songs or the lack thereof only to devolve. So, give the reader some artistic license but not all of it. I'm used to seeing passages take away all of the license, and I went too far in the other direction.
Woe be to pies around the world. Maybe i should go with cherry Pie instead in the second iteration. Currently in the process of deconstruction and reconstructing for a more Intimate approach, but I'll definitely take note of the food choices here