Monday, August 29, 2022

BLUE MOON MONDAY!

 Darlings!  We do free quick critiques on months that have FIVE MONDAYS, so that's our "Blue Moon Monday"! 

If you're gutsy enough to post a snippet of your work in the comments, we'll be snarky enough to review it and give you advice! 

Okay, we WON'T BE SNARKY.... except maybe me, if there's no chocolate around.... that's yet to be decided.

But we'd love to give you an author's perspective on the writing, timing, draw, etc... does it grab attention? Do you need work on mechanics? (grammar, sentence structure, balance, etc.) General stuff to keep you, the writer/aspiring author moving in the right direction.

Let's do this!

Post up to four paragraphs or so in the comments.... And if you need an "intro" to set the paragraphs, make it minimal.... we should get the feeling for the work from the actual paragraphs, not the explanation.

Be brave! Be bold! You've got this!

I brought coffee, tea and virtual donuts because it's always more fun to work together with food. And maybe some PUMPKIN SPICE stuff to welcome a new month and a whole new season!

We'll pop in as we can... and we hope you dive in! God bless you all!

Ruthy



 

39 comments:

  1. This is a flash fiction piece:

    They say you can’t buy at happiness, but you can buy ice cream and that’s kind of the same thing. Sasha needed ice cream, and her freezer was empty when she needed it most.


    In the car, the scene replayed in her mind. Her big meeting and a loud ripping sound echoed through the room as she walked to the front. The rippling of her newly tailored pants put her heart into her throat. She went on. The back of her mind running rampant with questions and a sound that’d play in her ears endlessly.


    Only vanilla ice cream with chunks of peanut butter, brownie pieces, and swirled with chocolate ganache and marshmallow could soothe it.


    Sasha parked and headed to the frozen food section. A man opened the door. There was one half-pint left. She reached for the ice cream as he grabbed it, too. He could choose another flavor. She needed this right now. He didn’t let go. Sasha glared. His dark brown eyes were electric. He smiled, and she froze like the ice cream carton they both held.


    “We’re both craving chocolate and peanut butter.” The soft lines around his eyes crinkled.


    “I need this.” Her hand was numb.

    “No other have brownie and marshmallow.”

    Sasha gritted her teeth. If she didn’t get her chocolate and peanut butter with marshmallow, she’d scream right there in the store.


    “After my day, the only comfort is this ice cream. The flavor I ate with my grandma until she died,” Sasha said.


    “My work partner pitched my project as his own.” He took his hand off the carton and crossed his arms.


    “That really stinks.” Sasha released her hand.


    “Aren’t you going to take it?”


    “Not if you’re guilting me into it.”


    “You had an awful day.”


    “You did too. Even if my pants split in front of everyone.”

    “That happened?”

    Sasha could grab the ice cream and make a run for it, but he kept staring at her. His jaw chiseled like a perfect statue.


    “Let’s split?” He said. “Buy it, get spoons, and we eat it.”

    “For real? Where?”

    “On the bench outside."

    Had she seen him anywhere else, she’d have hoped to spend more time with him.

    “Deal. You get the spoons, I’ll get the ice cream.”

    “Not so fast. Come with me to get spoons. I’m Liam.”

    “Sasha.”


    With the spoons, they checked out, and went to the bench. Was she actually doing this? One bite with a piece of chewy brownie and creamy peanut butter. She was, and it was so right.


    “You really split your pants in a meeting?” Liam took another spoonful.


    “I can’t believe I told you that.” Sasha rolled her eyes.


    “Nothing goes past the ice cream.” Liam pointed at the half-pint. “Best flavor ever.”

    “Chocolate and peanut butter are classic.”

    “The marshmallow and pretzel take it to a new level. Every bite is different.”

    “You never know what you’ll get, but you’re guaranteed it’s great.”


    “Remember that if anyone brings up your ripped pants. It’s a sign there’s a positive out there.”

    “We got the last one. It won’t be here for me tomorrow.”

    “I could be.” Liam raised an eyebrow. “We should do this again. Maybe dinner first?”
    “I’d love to.” Sasha set her spoon down.

    A bad day turned around by her favorite ice cream, leading her to a great guy.

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    1. Tonya, good morning! Don't you love quick stories? Flash fiction is another name for the time-trialed "short story" genre that used to grace ladies' and household magazines fifty years ago... McCalls, Redbook, Women's World, etc.... you don't see those so much now (Women's World, yes) but Flash Fiction has its own following, so not much has changed.

      This is fun, to have two work-related disasters find fun over ice cream... here's my suggestion:
      I would have it in split POV. Hers... his... hers... his.... and maybe end with hers on the final note. The way it is right now seems unrealistic. That might simply be that the dialogue needs work. I find with flash fiction, less is more. Here's an example of what I'm thinking but maybe others will chime in with different thoughts:

      Biggest meeting of the month. Maybe the year. Her life, possibly? And the splitting sound of her dress pants giving way foiled the presentation.
      The boss heard it. Her department head heard it. There was no missing it. Even the client, attending through "Zoom" cringed.

      There was no hiding it. No getting around it. Epic fail. And now? Now was ice cream, Dark Dusty Delight, an exquisite chocolate studded with peanut butter, crisp chunks of pretzel, and marshmallow creme swirled throughout. She wanted it. Needed it. And would stop at nothing to get it.

      Ruthy again: Then I'd go to his POV, keeping his disaster brief, having them meet over that one half-pint.....

      And bring it to a conclusion over agreeing to share and realizing that maybe Dark Dusty Delight was just another part of the broken road to happiness, something like that.

      Delete
    2. Thank you! I didn't know you could switch POVs in flash fiction. Do you need a mark or something to identify the switch?

      I know my dialog isn't great, especially romance. Do you know of any resources for improving it?

      Also, I cut out about 200 words yesterday. A little dialog, but mostly description and internal thoughts. Would it help to add them back in?

      Delete
    3. Hi Tonya, Audra here. I loved the situation! Oh my, heat and embarrassment rose to my cheeks on Sasha's behalf. And you paired an equally bad day for Liam. Good job!

      I know you're on a tight word count and you did an amazing job keeping your voices distinctive without the use of continual tags. Trademark dialogue between men and women is the length of sentences. Men say it - short and quick; women tend to use many more words to convey their ideas.

      I haven't read fan fiction in ages, but the fact that you stayed on track, kept your characters distinct and gave it a beginning, middle, end earns a bravo from me. Good job!

      Delete
    4. Thank you, Audra! I appreciate it and am glad you liked it 😊

      Delete
  2. This is Kayla James here. This is still raw and unedited, but I thought it would be okay to submit. I hope it is not too long. I have never done this before.

    She was about to enter when she heard voices coming down the hallway. Terrified of being discovered, she slipped into a small alcove between the billiard room and what was once a dart room. The game cupboard door hid her well so she could not be seen by others yet she could see out.
    Four men were walking with purpose to the billiard room, arguing, but of what Ana could not tell. Their voices mingled with one another and it was hard to make out. There was something about a lady and then something about a debt needing to be paid.
    “You talk absurdity, sir. If it were not unfitting I would challenge you to the duel right here and now.”
    Ana knew that voice to be the young Lord Gillingham. She had never heard his voice raised in anything above the most gentlest of tones.
    Then the other man—a swarthy man with dark gold hair in a cue—spoke and swore at him.
    “Gentlemen, let us not speak in haste,” came another voice, oddly the same as Lord Gillingham but a bit lower. There was also a touch of foreign in his accent. “We have all had a bit too much to drink. Before any talking of duels are to be discussed let’s all go home and wait until the morning.”

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    1. Of course it's okay to submit! This is Blue Moon Monday! This is when you get to show off your diamond in the rough. :-)

      Regency...I've grown to love the genre. And do I detect a hint of a mystery in these paragraphs?

      One thing you'll want to address in your rewrites - stories sing with details, so add them in. Since your heroine can see all four men, describe them (quickly, not too much detail,) and let her recognize Lord Gillingham. (Does she have a reaction when she recognizes him? A gasp she needs to smother?)
      More details - let her overhear the entire conversation. She's close enough to hear the argument, right? Let your reader hear what she hears.
      And the man who sounds a bit like Lord Gillingham, but foreign. Have her identify that foreign flavor in his voice - maybe he sounds a bit like her brother's French tutor?

      Those are the kinds of details that will capture your readers' attention and carry them along with you through the story!

      And one minor spelling correction - a man's hair is pulled back in a queue. Pronounced the same, but spelled differently. :-)

      A great start to your story!!!

      Delete
  3. Thanks for taking the time, ladies, to give us feedback. It's always appreciated!
    ##
    He saw her, cowering in the corner, huddled behind the flimsy curtains that billowed slightly from the breeze coming through the windows they were meant to cover. Her head snapped up and relief filled her face when she saw him. Garrick could easily imagine her as the terrified young girl she must have been, rightfully scared of everyone, unable to trust those who should have protected her. His heart constricted with his own mix of fear, relief, and shame. She must think the worst of him.

    Running across the floor, he came to a stop a few feet in. His left shoulder blazed a hot pain into his side and his neck. He looked down, aware that his arm hung loosely. There was barely time to stop, so he took a deep breath, set it himself, and kept moving toward her.

    Hassah’s feet were bound, as were her hands. Garrick slid to the floor in front of her and took her bruised face in his hands. Her eyes were dark and haunted. She reminded him of a wounded deer he had stumbled upon on a hunt when he was a child. The scared creature could do nothing except moan through the pain. This tore his heart the way that had as a child, though on a scale he’d not thought possible. Because she was not a wounded deer. She was his love, his very heart.

    Her voice, usually so strong, so loud, so wonderfully naggy, was reduced to a harsh whisper. Through cut and swollen lips he could barely hear her say, “You came back.”

    The surprise in her voice undid him.

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    1. oh man, Glynis - i want to read this whole story!!! So much great tension and emotion in this snippet. Great use of showing vs telling and excellent way of conveying so much in so few words. Wow. You've reeled me in for sure :)

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    2. I can hardly wait to read more!

      Delete
    3. So much emotion packed into this snippet. A question, he set his arm himself? As in a broken or dislocated arm? Not easy to do, and not easy to do so quickly. When one moment his arm is hanging limp, and the next he's cupping her face in his hands. Things happen very quickly in this passage, and you could evoke even more of a response in the reader by drawing some of it out. I would love it if you'd post a synopsis/back cover copy so we could see what the setting is. :)

      Delete
    4. This is a lovely, riveting passage.... and I agree, the dislocated arm (Hey, I saw Lethal Weapon and Mel Gibson re-set by slamming his shoulder into a wall, right????) doesn't fit the time frame, and maybe is too much right here.

      Love this, Glynis!

      Delete
    5. The arm thing was more of a place holder so i could keep writing momentum and since this is a very rough draft I left it in knowing it was ridiculous. But thanks for the encouragement, ladies. I needed it!

      Erica, I'm still working on exactly what my setting is. Jan helped me brainstorm some ideas a few weeks ago but I haven't quite decided yet. My decision making skills are terrible.

      Delete
  4. Scarlett’s heartbeat thumped in her ear. Her trembling hand grasped the knob and pulled the latch. Locked. She should’ve known better. The stable closed up every night. She let out a deep breath, reaffirming why she’d snuck out.

    She’d never been one to go against palace rules. Even the tabloids referenced her as the obedient Princess. Always polite, always on time, always gracious. But tonight was different. She’d gotten to know Max under supervision. Thoughts of meeting him at the stables sent a rush through her body, overcoming the need for sleep. It’s one thing to know a person in a group setting and another to get to know them when no one else is around. When the only opinion that matters is the person you’re with and those moments are between the two of you.
    Scarlett twisted, turned, and rattled the lock. If only she’d had a key. She’d never picked a lock. Scarlett dropped to her knees, feeling around for a twig.

    “What are you doing?”

    She jumped up, her legs wobbled, and she grabbed at the barn door. It wasn’t Max’s voice. She swallowed hard and looked for an escape, unsure if she should turn around or keep facing forward.

    “Did you need something in the barn?” A flashlight waved over her.

    Scarlett’s breathing picked up speed. Who was he? And what would he do when he discovered who she was?


    “I, um- “ Scarlett didn’t want to sound scared, but she had to address him.

    “All you had to do was ask. My apartment is right upstairs.”

    Tyler, the ranch hand. Scarlett let out a deep breath, her body becoming lighter. She’d never talked to him much, but she saw him around. Tall, brawny, always working on something. Girls whispered about his brown wavy hair, bright smile, and gentle way with the horses. Scarlett always focused on her next chance with Max. She didn’t understand why her friends paid attention to Tyler when guys like Max with his education and noble family were under their nose.


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    1. I love this, Felicity! The princess has fallen for the wrong man!
      And Tyler will always be the gentleman, right?

      A great story idea, and one that has a lot of potential!

      I would take her comparison of Max and Tyler one step further, maybe comparing Tyler's gentle brown eyes with Max's piercing blue gaze (or something like that.) You've described Tyler as the perfect hero - gentle, friendly, good-looking - and it would be good to describe Max as the perfect opposite. Handsome but with chiseled features, always dressed impeccably, etc.

      A great start!

      Delete
    2. What a fun and intriguing premise! It's packed with potential! One thing I would encourage is to stay in the same verb tense. You switch between was and is.

      Delete
    3. Jan & Erica- thank you so much! It's currently a short story. I didn't realize it had so much potential. If you had any thoughts on where to take it further, I'd love to hear them.
      Erica- I get stuck a lot with was & is *sigh* I'll want to put was, but than I'll think that's a weasel word so I use is and it all gets confused.

      Delete
    4. Felicity, I agree, this is packed with potential but... and this is a big "but"... she'd know who he was, right? If all the girls were noticing the handsome ranch hand, she would recognize him... and his voice. Are these guys young? She sounds young... he doesn't. So if they're matched ages I'd make her sound a little less swoony and needy, but (truth be told) I tend to write tough heroines with a splash of attitude and defense, so that might be my bias.

      Except, darling, I'm always right, so there's that. :) :) :)

      Well done!

      Delete
    5. Thank you! How would I go about making her sound older? I mean like mid-20s-30s, not a teenager.

      Delete
    6. I really enjoyed this, Felicity. I thought at first it was a suspense, but I think when one saw the entire story, the genre would be clearer. I do wonder why it took so long to recognize his voice, so I guess Ruthy's right again.

      Delete

  5. I tightened my blazer as soon as I realized I had on an old The Beatles t-shirt; wrinkled with cracks across the decal. That’s what happens when you forget to change your alarm for Daylight Savings Time. I patted the sides of my hair to make sure I didn’t forget to comb it. It was fine, but the shirt, hopefully no one would notice in my meetings. At least I remembered my blazer.

    Still groggy, the scent of nutty roasted coffee beans wafted under my nose. A large coffee couldn’t come fast enough. I counted the people two by two and froze. It was him.

    I’d seen him before. He’s tall with brown hair and brown eyes. Dressed in a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, and hands in his pockets. The times we’ve made eye contact, his smile turned my legs to jello. His ordered is a flat white, unlike mine with a large amount of caffeine.

    He turned and looked at the door. We made eye contact. I waved. Then jerked my arm down. Who waves at a random guy? My heart beat picked up. Did I remember to do my makeup? I dug through my purse. I had lipstick, but no mirror. Ugh. I learned a long time ago to not put lipstick on without a mirror or end up with it anywhere but my lips.

    He took his drink, turned, and we locked eyes again. He flashed his warm smile and a garden of butterflies let loose in my stomach. I thought of what I could say to him, “do you come here often?” As if I’d never seen him before. I kept my eyes on him and slammed into something firm.

    “Walk much?” An elderly woman scowled.

    “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

    “You better start. You could’ve hurt someone. I have a herniated disc, you know.”

    “I hope I didn’t hurt you?” I took a step back, frustrated I lost sight of where the guy was. “Would you like me to get your order?”

    “Don’t bother.” The lady marched off mumbling to herself.

    I looked for him. I put in my order, grabbed my coffee and paid. At the concession stand, I took the top off my coffee and grabbed the bottle of creamer.

    “Do you like sugar?” A bowl of sugar cubes slid beneath me.

    “No, I–” I looked up. It was him. “It never hurts to try.”

    I gave him a slow smile and reached for the sugar scooper. My hand whacked his forearm and sugar splattered all over the front of me and my shoes.

    “I’m so sorry,” he reached for napkins.

    “It’s fine.” I wiped a napkin down the front of my blazer, dusting off the crystallized spots. Only a small amount came off.

    “Let me get a table to clean up and finish your coffee.”

    It was like slow motion. He pulled out a chair at the nearest table.

    I had to take off my blazer. It’d be easier to clean. I cringed the moment he saw my t-shirt.

    “I love The Beatles.”

    My cheeks heated like the steam coming off the top of my coffee.

    “My alarm didn’t go off.”

    “If it did, I would’ve missed you.”

    I shook out my blazer now with drops of sugar and pills of napkin and slid my arms in the sleeves. At least the t-shirt made it more casual and less obvious.

    “I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

    “I wasn’t concentrating. It’s just as much my fault.”

    “Then let me take you to dinner?” He raised his eyebrows.

    The day kept getting better.





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    1. Savannah, I can so relate to her. Seems like we always run into THAT person whenever we look our worst. Just makes you want to cringe. Is this a scene from a manuscript or is it a short story? It reads like a short story. I'd like to know a little bit more about him, though. Oh, and what is a flat white? Yeah, I'm the gal who doesn't drink coffee. ;-)

      Delete
    2. Nice work, Savannah. Who can't relate to oversleeping due to a time change, or two? I love the coffee shop situation and even the grumpy old lady, LOL. And oh my, his obvious interest by saying he loved the Beatles and had she not overslept, he would have missed her. Well done!!

      I might suggest continuing to drop in a bit of internal attention to the setting, just to ground the reader - the scrapping of chairs, the odd voice that sticks out in a crowd, the bump of people as she accepts the chair he's held out for her, etc. Not much more, but just enough to keep the setting alive.

      Keep working on it, Savannah!! Great start!
      -Audra

      Delete
    3. Oh yes, she's a relatable character for sure! I already sympathize with her. My one tip would be to watch the verb tenses and stay in one consistently.

      Delete
    4. I'm glad you all find her relatable, that's encouraging
      Mindy - it is a short story, could even be flash fiction as it is there. Confession- I don't know much about coffee either, lol! I googled popular male coffee orders 😆 a flat white is for the man not into caffeine. It's a small amount of coffee with that steamed milk foam on top, but it a larger amount than in a latte & scraped across the top to make it flat

      Delete
    5. I really do love the dialogue. I enjoy that you tagged it with action, rather than all he said, she said. I would suggest that you watch your tenses.

      Delete
  6. Hi ladies, thank you for taking time to read my scratchings.

    “Tackle is on the south wall and the bait boxes are in the back,” Herb called to John as he gestured with his hands. “Jack can help you. He’s around here somewhere.”
    Elise watched her father moseying down the aisle. Frowning and with a huff, she wandered the makeshift shop. Fishing! It was not her thing. She had tried years ago when her parents took her to the lake camping. After ten minutes of sitting still holding a fishing pole and waiting with nothing happening, she was done.
    “I couldn’t help but overhear,” a masculine voice spoke behind her. Elise turned to see a black-haired man standing near. He looked very familiar. Even the shades propped on his head gave him away.
    “Hello,” she said, her lips drawing into a smile. The smile faded. A lump formed in her throat. “Aren’t you the one who cut us off over on Rangeline Road a few minutes ago?”
    “About that, yeah, and I do apologize! Dad was expecting me sooner and the traffic was hellish.” Jack’s explanation fell from his lips. “I hear you need some R&R? Don’t like fishing?” he asked. Green eyes flickered as his brow rose high. A happy smile touched his mouth and spread across his tanned face.
    Elise let the issue drop, for now. “Looks like my visit will be spent at the lake. I’m no good at fishing, but Daddy insists.”
    The man moved closer, extending his hand. “I’m Jack Martin, Herb’s son.”
    His musky cologne chased away the fishy smells that clung to the air. A cool hand met her warm one. She felt the tingle skip up her arm and a blush creep to her cheeks. The man was handsome in an outdoorsy kind of way. Her breath caught. He kept her hand entwined in his.
    “He’s right you know. Fishing is a good way to relax and unwind from those nasty exams.” Grinning, he let her hand go, but felt an empowering spark ignite his skin.
    Elise crossed her arms over her midsection. “You’re on his side?”
    Jack Martin laughed. “This time of year, is perfect for catching big bass.”
    “Catching bass is not on my ‘to do’ list,” she shook her blonde head. “I was hoping to get a little work in while I’m here. Go to the library, do some research; search the old newspapers on microfilm. That sort of thing…”
    “Nothing like a fish fry at the lake after you’ve finished your research.” His brows rose again with his speech. “Cook some tators with onions and cornbread. Goes mighty good with filleted fish.” Jack teased her with the tempting menu.
    “Sounds delicious!” John boomed. He was standing behind his daughter holding two fishing rods. A minnow bucket and a scoop net were hooked over his left arm.
    “Tell you what,” Herb Martin joined them in the conversation. “Come down to our humble abode. You know the spot, Breezy Cove. We’ll enjoy the weekend together, catch those bass you’re talking about and swap old fish stories again. The Grove Oklahoma Pelican festival’s going on and the kids here might want to take it in.”
    John’s blue eyes lit up like a Fourth of July sky. He looked at Elise. His mouth curved, but he said not a word.
    Jack Martin chuckled. “That’s a great idea, Dad! Nothing like sailing on the Cherokee Queen. She’s the belle of the water.” He looked at Elise and winked. His smile pleaded. His eyes invited.
    The intense stares from the three men unnerved Elise. She instantly blushed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. She wanted to melt through the floor.

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    1. Interesting set up, karen. I could feel the emotions going through Elise and that's an important key.
      Some comments, this line...“He’s right you know. Fishing is a good way to relax and unwind from those nasty exams.” Grinning, he let her hand go, but felt an empowering spark ignite his skin.
      Thats a Point of view hop. We're inside his head, he's reacting. The rest of the scene is in her POV

      Delete
    2. Additional comments, he seems old for her. Not sure why. The references to her and school maybe? Right after her thinking of herself as a child and the first time she went fishing? Refer specifically to college to age her up.
      His apology for cutting her off in traffic didn't seen sincere and it should be.

      Delete
    3. Karen, you've drawn a nice character in Elise. As Mary said, there's a bit of a head-hop going on.

      In the opening para: “Tackle is on the south wall and the bait boxes are in the back,” Herb called to John as he gestured with his hands. “Jack can help you. He’s around here somewhere.”

      You've got three named characters (two of which start with J and have the same number of letters) and none of them is the POV character. Can you start with something from Elise's POV so we know for whom we are to root? Also, you can delete "with his hands" since the reader will assume he's gesturing with his hands. I call this the prepositional phrase of descriptive overkill, and I am constantly trying to hack it out of my own work, both to conserve wordcount and to tighten the writing up.

      Delete
    4. Erica, I never noticed that about the names! Thanks for your time and input, I appreciate it.

      Delete
    5. Okay, the Mean Girl just showed up... first, I like the premise a lot... fishing... smells... family..... and reprieve! But.... there's a lot of over-the-top stuff going on here, like too descriptive, too strong, too many long sentences.

      Here's what I mean, Karen... (and I'm so sorry for what stupid people have done to the name "Karen" because we have several wonderful Karens in my family!!!!) Okay, back on task....

      Elise watched her father moseying down the aisle. Frowning and with a huff, she wandered the makeshift shop. Fishing! It was not her thing. She had tried years ago when her parents took her to the lake camping. After ten minutes of sitting still holding a fishing pole and waiting with nothing happening, she was done.

      So here we're using moseying and frowning and huffing and wandering. That's a lot of unnecessary verbiage to show the action. They can do all these things but how can we do them with more emotion and less telling?

      Here's an idea....
      Her father didn't just walk down the aisle.
      He moseyed.
      Elise liked decisive behavior. Focus. Mosey didn't work for her, so why was she wandering around a sporting goods store as if she cared?
      She didn't. Fishing was boring. Great for others.
      Not her.
      But her dad wanted to go and if spending time with Dad meant fishing? Then Elise would go fishing.

      So not exactly like that, in your own way, but just the idea of giving Elise more depth and less writer-speak. Make her a real person for us....

      Delete
    6. Thanks for your comments, Ruthy! I'll work on it...and yeah, the "Karen" thing is silly, just like the "Brandon" thing, people can sure be weird sometimes! LOL Thanks again!!!

      Delete
    7. Karen, right? Oh my stars.... and keep working! Take that talent and shine with it!

      Delete
    8. I sure will...love you and your books!!

      Delete
  7. Nothing to submit but this is such a wonderful service! God bless!!

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  8. Hi Karen! Audra here. LOL, I can relate to Elise about the fishing. Continually casting without any rewards for the effort doesn't equal relaxing. I'm happy to sit on the pier with a book and cheer my husband and kids on, LOL.

    I suspect these are paragraphs beyond the opening of the book, so I won't ask the obvious questions. I like how the conversation is easy between Elise and Jack, especially after his apology of cutting them off on the road. Watch out for pesky, unintentional POV confusions - "Jack's explanation fell from his lips" came a breath before Jack introduced himself. It just had me looking back over the previous dialogue to see if I missed something.

    I thought the dialogue moved the scene along at a great pace. Maybe include more description of the tackle shop to give the reader a feel for the upcoming adventure and make sure to include the excitement in everyone else's voice about the prospect of boating, fishing, etc. Poor Elise. I think relaxing might be the last thing on her mind, LOL!

    Great job, Karen!

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  9. Mary and Audra, that darn head hopping, ugh! Yes, these are the paras beyond the opening of the book. She's a genealogist and is preparing to take those types of exams, so I'll be sure to include explanation where needed. I love writing dialogue! LOL Thank you to all of you for your kind remarks!

    ReplyDelete

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