Critique of I Dare You and an exercise
(My comments will be in Purple. Words and punctuation that need to be deleted are in Red. Words and punctuation I added are in Purple. At the end I will have general comments about the passage.)
Tara crouched low, stepping quickly to the shadows of the abandoned asylum. Jazz followed close on her heels.
“This is stupid,” Jazz said. “Back home, you never cared about being popular. What’s different now? ”
“In Capac, I had friends. Here, I stand in the middle of the cafeteria; holding my lunch tray, hoping someone friendly will invite me to join her. It’s pathetic!” Tara swiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m doing this dare with or without you. Besides, there’s nothing to be afraid of, this place’s has been closed for years.” A twig snapped and they both jumped. A black squirrel scampered across the lawn.
Jazz’s eyes roamed from the barred windows of the first and second floors to a white clapboard sign with faded black lettering. “Pontiac State Hospital, Est. 1878.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “We can’t even see the road from back here. Why do you want to be friends with Stacey anyway? She treats friends like dogs.” There is a discontinuity in this paragraph as Jazz switches from talking about the isolation of the hospital to being friends with Stacey without skipping a beat. It is jarring. There needs to be some kind of transition between the two.
“Jazz just go home, I don’t need your help, but tell Dad you didn’t feel good, and I’m still staying with Stacey.” This paragraph feels like bumper cars. Tara tells Jazz to go home, she doesn't need her help, then tells her to tell Dad she doesn't feel good, then tells Jazz that she is staying with Stacey. Bump. Bump. Bump. Three different directions with nothing to pull them together. The comment about Stacey needs to be moved toward the beginning of the paragraph to transition from the preceding paragraph. I'm not sure where the "tell Dad you didn't feel good" comment comes from- unless there's something somewhere else to connect it to I'd take it out.
Jazz shrugged. “I can’t let you do something this dumb alone. What if something happened to you?”
“Okay, but remember you’re coming 'cause you want to, not because I asked you. Let’s go,; Stacey said there’s an unlocked cellar door on the north side.” Tara rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a small flashlight.
Picking their way through some withered vines, they stumbled over the wooden doors. Tara grasped the rusted ring handle and tugged,; the door barely budged. “Grab me around the waist then pull as hard as you can.” Tara braced her strong legs. “Now, on the count of three-- pull. One, two… Three!”
The hinges squeaked as the heavy door found its momentum, sending the girls tumbling to the ground. Tara brushed herself off, and then turned to help Jazz up. She swept the light’s beam over the crumbling cement steps. “I’ll go first, but stick close to me,. Who knows what’s waiting in there?”
Jazz squirmed from one foot to the other watching as Tara took a step. “Wait-- what if there’s an alarm or something?”
“Ha! Jazz, give me a break, there’s no alarm.” Tara pressed the flashlight’s beam against her chin, casting her face in a spooky orange-yellow glow. “Hey, remember the haunted house in Capac? This is better cause it’s big, empty, and it’s real.”
Jazz clenched her fists then stomped her foot. “Oh, you’re so funny,. Just stop it!”
Tara giggled as she scrambled down the steps, Jazz followed dragging her feet. They entered the dark musty cellar; it was crowded with big metal contraptions covered in thick layers of cobwebs.
Jazz struggled to breathe in the thick air. “What are those?”
Tara guided the light around the room, stopping briefly to examine the various pieces of equipment. She shrugged. “Maybe they’re ancient torture machines. Hey, don’t get sick,. Use your inhaler.”
Jazz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” She wiped her face and finger combed the cobwebs from her short brown hair. “I hate cobwebs; they feel like tiny spider legs crawling.”
Tara found a large stairwell along the back wall and raced up the first flight, then pulled the doorknob;. It was locked. “Well, maybe the second floor is open.” She hiked the next flight two steps at a time, twisted the knob and found it locked too. What knob?
Jazz followed more cautiously, calling out, “What are we going to do now;? The third floor won’t be open either.” She reached the second floor landing. “I guess we should just stay the night here. It’s probably the safest place anyway. ” The third floor won't be open? I'd rephrase that to make it more clear that they won't be able to get into the third floor because the door is locked. Otherwise the reader is scratching his/her head, trying to figure out what the writer means.
A shrill screech echoed against the barren walls. Tara and Jazz answered with their own piercing screams, clinging to each other.
A beady-eyed black bat swooped over their heads. Then it dived down one flight of stairs, made a sharp turn, and took another swoop at their heads. Its claws tangled in Tara’s long blonde hair. Tara screamed louder, swinging her arms wildly above her head. The bat swooped away. Tara clung to Jazz. “Forget what I said earlier, I’m glad you’re here.” I'm assuming it came back up the stairs before swooping at their heads again. What does Jazz do while the bat is playing with Tara's hair?
They crept up the last flight together. Tara yanked the door, and it flew open crashing against the wall. She stumbled back, stepping on Jazz’s toes. What made them decide to continue going up the stairs? I thought they were staying on the landing of the second floor because the third floor wouldn't be open and the second floor was the best place to stay the night.
“Ouch, hey watch it!”
Dust particles floated in the flashlight’s soft beam. Sneezing, Tara covered her mouth then stepped forward, snatching Jazz’s hand from behind. They tiptoed to the end of a long corridor. An empty booth on the left had been a nurse’s station. “Looks like even the nurses were afraid, I bet they spent their days safely tucked behind this Plexiglas.” The booth was a mess; papers were scattered everywhere. Snatching Jazz's hand from behind what? And how do they know the empty booth was a nurse's station? If the booth was empty, then how can it have papers scattered everywhere?
“Hey, bring that light over here, let’s see what these say.” Jazz examined the papers. “Weird, they all say the same thing.”
Tara snatched the sheet from her little sister; her hands shook as she read. “This is my home. Kenny is a good boy!”
“Geesh, you don’t have to get grabby. I would’ve read it to you. Why’d he write that over and over?”
“Creepy.” Tara folded the paper then stuffed it in her backpack. Well, here’s the proof that Stacey wanted. Tara trembled, glancing around the booth; even empty this place gives me the willies. I sure hope Stacey’s worth it. Is Tara thinking the last lines about Stacey or is she actually saying them? That's not clear.
Jazz opened a door that led to a back room filled with glass cabinets. Most were empty, but one held a few brown glass bottles in it. She opened a jar, took a small sniff, and her eyes watered. “Phew! I hope they didn’t make anyone drink this stuff,; it smells like burnt rubber mixed with Dad’s smelly sweat socks.”
Tara spotted a ring of skeleton keys hanging from a hook on the wall. She jingled them at Jazz. “Now we can check out the other floors. Grab that broom over there just in case that bat wants another taste of us.”
Jazz stood guard with the broom while Tara tried the keys. The third key tumbled the lock. The second floor was similar to the third, except for one door, made of thick steel painted black with a small square window. Where are they and how did they get there from the nurse's station on the third floor?
Tara peeked through the window then opened the door. A thick padding hung on the walls. On the floor was a torn twin size mattress with large brown stains. In the corner sat a black plastic bucket. “I think this is an isolation room. They’d stick you in here if you tried to kill yourself or hurt someone.”
“Do you think they had to use that bucket to…well you know?”
“Yeah, probably. This place is so sad, and just think, Kenny called this his home.” Tara turned from the ugly room. She wandered away, thinking, "This place makes my stomach hurt. I wished I’d never taken this dare. Everything about Pontiac stinks, our new home, the neighborhood and especially the new school. Every time I open my mouth, something stupid tumbles out." Careening again. The place is sad; Kenny calls it his home; her stomach hurts; she wishes she'd never taken the dare. Pontiac stinks; she says something stupid. Too much stream of consciousness with no connection between the thoughts.
Further, down the hall, she stopped at another opened door. It was a patient’s room. The twilight’s soft beams reflected on a black metal-framed twin bed.
General comments:
This passage gives me the impression of a car careening wildly from one side of the road to another, because that is what this passage seems to do. There is little flow or continuity running through it. The dialogue jumps from one topic to another and way too much happens way too fast.
First, however, before hitting the content I'd hit the grammar because there are many grammatical errors in terms of punctuation. Like it or not, no matter how good the story is, if there are a lot of grammatical errors it won't make it through the acquisitions process.
For now, however, let's take a look at transitions because a skillful use of transitions would help this passage immensely. Transitions are words and phrases that signal connections among ideas. They are bridges that help the reader follow your train of thought, offering cues as to what is going to happen next. See how the use of transitions can help keep the reader from feeling out of control in this passage. In the below paragraphs, i am inserting transitions using green font.
Jazz’s eyes roamed from the barred windows of the first and second floors to a white clapboard sign with faded black lettering. “Pontiac State Hospital, Est. 1878.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “We can’t even see the road from back here." She paused and bit her lip. "Why do you want to be friends with Stacey anyway? She treats friends like dogs."
“Now don't you go picking on Stacey! She's the only friend I've got in this place." Tara turned her back with a flounce of her hair. "Jazz just go home, I don’t need your help."
...
Tara guided the light around the room, stopping briefly to examine the various pieces of equipment. She shrugged. “Maybe they’re ancient torture machines." She noticed Jazz's breathing problem. "Hey, don’t get sick. Use your inhaler.”
...
“Creepy.” Tara folded the paper then stuffed it in her backpack. She glanced at Jazz. "Well, here’s the proof that Stacey wanted." Tara trembled, glancing around the booth. "Even empty this place gives me the willies. I sure hope Stacey’s worth it."
,,,
Exercise:
Use transitions to rewrite the next paragraph to improve the flow. Send your suggestions to dindy@swimmingkangaroo.com Put the phrase "Transition Exercise" in the subject line.
“Yeah, probably. This place is so sad, and just think, Kenny called this his home.” Tara turned from the ugly room. She wandered away thinking, "This place makes my stomach hurt. I wish I’d never taken this dare. Everything about Pontiac stinks, our new home, the neighborhood and especially the new school. Every time I open my mouth, something stupid tumbles out."
Tara crouched low, stepping quickly to the shadows of the abandoned asylum. Jazz followed close on her heels.
“This is stupid,” Jazz said. “Back home, you never cared about being popular. What’s different now? ”
“In Capac, I had friends. Here, I stand in the middle of the cafeteria; holding my lunch tray, hoping someone friendly will invite me to join her. It’s pathetic!” Tara swiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m doing this dare with or without you. Besides, there’s nothing to be afraid of, this place’s has been closed for years.” A twig snapped and they both jumped. A black squirrel scampered across the lawn.
Jazz’s eyes roamed from the barred windows of the first and second floors to a white clapboard sign with faded black lettering. “Pontiac State Hospital, Est. 1878.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “We can’t even see the road from back here. Why do you want to be friends with Stacey anyway? She treats friends like dogs.” There is a discontinuity in this paragraph as Jazz switches from talking about the isolation of the hospital to being friends with Stacey without skipping a beat. It is jarring. There needs to be some kind of transition between the two.
“Jazz just go home, I don’t need your help, but tell Dad you didn’t feel good, and I’m still staying with Stacey.” This paragraph feels like bumper cars. Tara tells Jazz to go home, she doesn't need her help, then tells her to tell Dad she doesn't feel good, then tells Jazz that she is staying with Stacey. Bump. Bump. Bump. Three different directions with nothing to pull them together. The comment about Stacey needs to be moved toward the beginning of the paragraph to transition from the preceding paragraph. I'm not sure where the "tell Dad you didn't feel good" comment comes from- unless there's something somewhere else to connect it to I'd take it out.
Jazz shrugged. “I can’t let you do something this dumb alone. What if something happened to you?”
“Okay, but remember you’re coming 'cause you want to, not because I asked you. Let’s go,; Stacey said there’s an unlocked cellar door on the north side.” Tara rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a small flashlight.
Picking their way through some withered vines, they stumbled over the wooden doors. Tara grasped the rusted ring handle and tugged,; the door barely budged. “Grab me around the waist then pull as hard as you can.” Tara braced her strong legs. “Now, on the count of three-- pull. One, two… Three!”
The hinges squeaked as the heavy door found its momentum, sending the girls tumbling to the ground. Tara brushed herself off, and then turned to help Jazz up. She swept the light’s beam over the crumbling cement steps. “I’ll go first, but stick close to me,. Who knows what’s waiting in there?”
Jazz squirmed from one foot to the other watching as Tara took a step. “Wait-- what if there’s an alarm or something?”
“Ha! Jazz, give me a break, there’s no alarm.” Tara pressed the flashlight’s beam against her chin, casting her face in a spooky orange-yellow glow. “Hey, remember the haunted house in Capac? This is better cause it’s big, empty, and it’s real.”
Jazz clenched her fists then stomped her foot. “Oh, you’re so funny,. Just stop it!”
Tara giggled as she scrambled down the steps, Jazz followed dragging her feet. They entered the dark musty cellar; it was crowded with big metal contraptions covered in thick layers of cobwebs.
Jazz struggled to breathe in the thick air. “What are those?”
Tara guided the light around the room, stopping briefly to examine the various pieces of equipment. She shrugged. “Maybe they’re ancient torture machines. Hey, don’t get sick,. Use your inhaler.”
Jazz rolled her eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” She wiped her face and finger combed the cobwebs from her short brown hair. “I hate cobwebs; they feel like tiny spider legs crawling.”
Tara found a large stairwell along the back wall and raced up the first flight, then pulled the doorknob;. It was locked. “Well, maybe the second floor is open.” She hiked the next flight two steps at a time, twisted the knob and found it locked too. What knob?
Jazz followed more cautiously, calling out, “What are we going to do now;? The third floor won’t be open either.” She reached the second floor landing. “I guess we should just stay the night here. It’s probably the safest place anyway. ” The third floor won't be open? I'd rephrase that to make it more clear that they won't be able to get into the third floor because the door is locked. Otherwise the reader is scratching his/her head, trying to figure out what the writer means.
A shrill screech echoed against the barren walls. Tara and Jazz answered with their own piercing screams, clinging to each other.
A beady-eyed black bat swooped over their heads. Then it dived down one flight of stairs, made a sharp turn, and took another swoop at their heads. Its claws tangled in Tara’s long blonde hair. Tara screamed louder, swinging her arms wildly above her head. The bat swooped away. Tara clung to Jazz. “Forget what I said earlier, I’m glad you’re here.” I'm assuming it came back up the stairs before swooping at their heads again. What does Jazz do while the bat is playing with Tara's hair?
They crept up the last flight together. Tara yanked the door, and it flew open crashing against the wall. She stumbled back, stepping on Jazz’s toes. What made them decide to continue going up the stairs? I thought they were staying on the landing of the second floor because the third floor wouldn't be open and the second floor was the best place to stay the night.
“Ouch, hey watch it!”
Dust particles floated in the flashlight’s soft beam. Sneezing, Tara covered her mouth then stepped forward, snatching Jazz’s hand from behind. They tiptoed to the end of a long corridor. An empty booth on the left had been a nurse’s station. “Looks like even the nurses were afraid, I bet they spent their days safely tucked behind this Plexiglas.” The booth was a mess; papers were scattered everywhere. Snatching Jazz's hand from behind what? And how do they know the empty booth was a nurse's station? If the booth was empty, then how can it have papers scattered everywhere?
“Hey, bring that light over here, let’s see what these say.” Jazz examined the papers. “Weird, they all say the same thing.”
Tara snatched the sheet from her little sister; her hands shook as she read. “This is my home. Kenny is a good boy!”
“Geesh, you don’t have to get grabby. I would’ve read it to you. Why’d he write that over and over?”
“Creepy.” Tara folded the paper then stuffed it in her backpack. Well, here’s the proof that Stacey wanted. Tara trembled, glancing around the booth; even empty this place gives me the willies. I sure hope Stacey’s worth it. Is Tara thinking the last lines about Stacey or is she actually saying them? That's not clear.
Jazz opened a door that led to a back room filled with glass cabinets. Most were empty, but one held a few brown glass bottles in it. She opened a jar, took a small sniff, and her eyes watered. “Phew! I hope they didn’t make anyone drink this stuff,; it smells like burnt rubber mixed with Dad’s smelly sweat socks.”
Tara spotted a ring of skeleton keys hanging from a hook on the wall. She jingled them at Jazz. “Now we can check out the other floors. Grab that broom over there just in case that bat wants another taste of us.”
Jazz stood guard with the broom while Tara tried the keys. The third key tumbled the lock. The second floor was similar to the third, except for one door, made of thick steel painted black with a small square window. Where are they and how did they get there from the nurse's station on the third floor?
Tara peeked through the window then opened the door. A thick padding hung on the walls. On the floor was a torn twin size mattress with large brown stains. In the corner sat a black plastic bucket. “I think this is an isolation room. They’d stick you in here if you tried to kill yourself or hurt someone.”
“Do you think they had to use that bucket to…well you know?”
“Yeah, probably. This place is so sad, and just think, Kenny called this his home.” Tara turned from the ugly room. She wandered away, thinking, "This place makes my stomach hurt. I wished I’d never taken this dare. Everything about Pontiac stinks, our new home, the neighborhood and especially the new school. Every time I open my mouth, something stupid tumbles out." Careening again. The place is sad; Kenny calls it his home; her stomach hurts; she wishes she'd never taken the dare. Pontiac stinks; she says something stupid. Too much stream of consciousness with no connection between the thoughts.
Further, down the hall, she stopped at another opened door. It was a patient’s room. The twilight’s soft beams reflected on a black metal-framed twin bed.
General comments:
This passage gives me the impression of a car careening wildly from one side of the road to another, because that is what this passage seems to do. There is little flow or continuity running through it. The dialogue jumps from one topic to another and way too much happens way too fast.
First, however, before hitting the content I'd hit the grammar because there are many grammatical errors in terms of punctuation. Like it or not, no matter how good the story is, if there are a lot of grammatical errors it won't make it through the acquisitions process.
For now, however, let's take a look at transitions because a skillful use of transitions would help this passage immensely. Transitions are words and phrases that signal connections among ideas. They are bridges that help the reader follow your train of thought, offering cues as to what is going to happen next. See how the use of transitions can help keep the reader from feeling out of control in this passage. In the below paragraphs, i am inserting transitions using green font.
Jazz’s eyes roamed from the barred windows of the first and second floors to a white clapboard sign with faded black lettering. “Pontiac State Hospital, Est. 1878.” She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. “We can’t even see the road from back here." She paused and bit her lip. "Why do you want to be friends with Stacey anyway? She treats friends like dogs."
“Now don't you go picking on Stacey! She's the only friend I've got in this place." Tara turned her back with a flounce of her hair. "Jazz just go home, I don’t need your help."
...
Tara guided the light around the room, stopping briefly to examine the various pieces of equipment. She shrugged. “Maybe they’re ancient torture machines." She noticed Jazz's breathing problem. "Hey, don’t get sick. Use your inhaler.”
...
“Creepy.” Tara folded the paper then stuffed it in her backpack. She glanced at Jazz. "Well, here’s the proof that Stacey wanted." Tara trembled, glancing around the booth. "Even empty this place gives me the willies. I sure hope Stacey’s worth it."
,,,
Exercise:
Use transitions to rewrite the next paragraph to improve the flow. Send your suggestions to dindy@swimmingkangaroo.com Put the phrase "Transition Exercise" in the subject line.
“Yeah, probably. This place is so sad, and just think, Kenny called this his home.” Tara turned from the ugly room. She wandered away thinking, "This place makes my stomach hurt. I wish I’d never taken this dare. Everything about Pontiac stinks, our new home, the neighborhood and especially the new school. Every time I open my mouth, something stupid tumbles out."
posted by Swimming Kangaroo | 2:00 AM
2 Comments:
Hi Dindy,
Thank you for your insight. I've learned a lot.
Laura
From Sue:
"Well," said Mike turning to Tara. "Have you seen enough?"
"Yeah, probably." Tara spoke in a whisper, remembering a summer evening she had visited Kenny at the orphanage. She had wanted to have a real talk with him, but between the clicking heels of nurses and the smell of disinfectant, talking proved to be impossible. She had left that day, determined to return later, but later never came. Months passed by and turned into years. Now, it was too late. Even if she forgave herself for not at least befriending Kenny . . .she could never forget that it was her fault that caused him to be abandoned in that awful place.
"This place is so sad, with its empty rooms and silent halls. And just think." said Tara, "Kenny called this his home!"
Tara turned and ran sobbing from the ugly room with its crumbling walls and thinking, My stomach hurts. I wish I’d never taken this dare.
"Everything about the town of Pontiac stinks; our new home, the neighborhood and especially the new school. I'm always saying the wrong things to people. Every time I open my mouth, something stupid tumbles out."
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