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Saturday, March 31, 2012
After The Madness Workshop # B-11
Welcome to day six of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-11 Lisa Huber
I'm not sure this is where your story starts. I'm not completely hooked yet. I am curious as to why Vander is in this predicament, though. What did he do to get into this situation? Maybe, that's where your story starts?
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
The punch of the icy, cold steel evaporated the beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck. It shouldn't have, but it felt good. A groan escaped Vander's lips as he began to regain consciousness. Confusion? Pain? Fear? All of the above. A ding echoed in his ears. The steel behind his head vibrated. Vander's eyes labored open searching for answers, however found only darkness. The darkness was manufactured: a thick cloud tugged and tied tightly around his over-heating face.
B's notes: I'm not hooked with this beginning. I'd just say ... 'Vander groaned as he regained consciousness'. Simple clear sentences work best at inciting images in your readers' minds. That first sentence is sort of a tongue tie and I'm not sure what's going on. How is the steel punching? And how can it evaporate the beads of sweat? Also, I don't know if it happened during the email transmission, but only use one space between sentences.
Reality came flooding back and the groggy haze vanished instantly while each sense shifted into overdrive. His heavy breath mimicked the rapid rise and fall of his chest, blasting stale breath into his nose as it ricocheted off his head-covering.
B's notes: I'd rework the first sentence of this paragraph. Like ... 'As his groggy haze vanished, reality hit him and his senses heightened.' Or something like it. I'm sure you can do better. Just something less clunky.
It smelled like sweat and onions. B's notes: What does 'it' refer to?
"Hello?" Vander choked, his fingers struggling with the noose-like knot around his neck. Luckily, the rope peeled off easier than expected.
B's notes: Maybe change peeled to a different verb? I'm picturing a rotting rope peeling away.
Vander ripped off what turned out to be a dirty burlap sack. The outside read scallions with a capital R in red letters scrawled beneath it.
B's notes: Is there a reason we need to know what's on the outside of the sack? If not, I'd lose it to keep the scene flowing.
No wonder it smelled like onions, Vander thought to himself.
B's notes: If he's thinking, it's to himself.
Although the scallion helmet had been removed, little light entered the space. A single, urine-colored bulb hung by a straggly wire five feet away; his eyes struggled to make out the shadows on the perimeter of the room. All he could establish for certain was the concrete floor branded by random splotches of white paint and haphazardly placed chinks as if someone had chased a crab across the floor with an ice-pick.
B's notes: I'd rework the first sentence on the above paragraph to avoid the past perfect here. Maybe an action instead? Like... 'Vander squinted, searching the dimly lit space.' Or something like it, but better.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop # B-12
Welcome to day six of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-12 Kimberly
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
You can't always be a good person. That's the first thing that comes to mind when I rub the sleep from my eyes. Verla said it to me on multiple occasions. Like every time I brought up Governor King's name, or cursed my step-brother Gavin's. I know why her words speak to me, because it's a significant day in the prison. It's the day the signup sheet for the Headhunters Race is posted. The time I start planning revenge on the man who put me here.
B's notes: The first sentence isn't a good enough hook. The rest of the paragraph is interesting, but it's not drawing me into the story. The last line is great. You might want to rework it and use it for the hook.
First I need to get through my push list. Or I risk falling into the endless pit of despair.
B's notes: I'm confused here. What's a push list?
My name is Avene. I’ve been here for three years but I'm not a bad person. First, I need to hunt for food. My goal is a bird or a rat. I'd settle for a lizard. Second, work out. Last but not least, submit my name as a candidate for the Headhunters Race.
B's notes: I wouldn't have the character tell the reader their name. Use a more creative way to get it out. The transition from the second sentence to the third isn't smooth enough. She says she's not a bad person and then randomly says she has to hunt for her food. Make sure to move smoother into a new thought.
I run through the day's agenda again, burning every word and the exact order into my brain. My list is not easy. Hunting inside the prison walls is never an easy task. There isn’t much to hunt considering we’re on the inside and most animals are smart enough to stay on the out. Fighting for slop is worse. That’ll be on tomorrow’s list.
B's notes: This paragraph is great -- I'm intrigued by how she has to hunt in the prison. That said, the first sentence needs work. Is she burning every word in the exact order? Why not just say ... 'I run through the day's agenda again, memorizing each task'. Or something like it, but better.
Now that I know what my day entails (comma) I stretch and yawn. I'm careful not to disturb Zita lying there so peaceful and pretty with her dark Greek hair swirling around her face and a smile on her lips.
B's notes: This has possibilities, but it's not quite there yet. I'd work in some sensory details and emotions to get us to connect to your main character. Tighten your sentences and make sure there's clarity. Pep up the voice by choosing better, snappy verbs.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Friday, March 30, 2012
After The Madness Workshop # B-9
Welcome to day five of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-9 Meagan Rivers
When he smiled, I saw only teeth. Clean, white, perfectly straight, flawless teeth. Everyone else saw it from a mile away -- the jagged bottom tooth that jutted out at an awkward angle. I couldn’t see it, even when it was inches from my face.
B's notes: I like this. It's funny how she's so enamored with him that she doesn't notice the tooth that juts out.
B's notes: I like this. It's funny how she's so enamored with him that she doesn't notice the tooth that juts out.
"You were attracted to his teeth?"
"No. But I never saw the crooked tooth," I said."Not until that night."
The woman before me nodded, because that was one of the things she did best. Don't get me wrong, I’d struck the therapist lottery. Colleen understood me. She knew when to say all the right things. But nodding could be annoying when I needed her to talk.
"When, exactly?" she asked.
I shut my eyes and tilted my head as though the images would tumble forward, fall into place. "When the light from Adam's back porch lit up, it shined off the crooked tooth. It must have been the lighting."
"Bonnie," Colleen said with a warm tone of warning,"Matthew wasn't perfect. It's good that you could finally see some of his flaws."
"But only when..." I paused, pressed above my collarbones until my pulse beat into my fingertips. "He had his hands around my neck."
"The illusion broke," Colleen said. "You're sitting here because of it."
The air in her office cooled my lungs. I’d known on the first session that someone who kept bushels of eucalyptus was the right person to help me.
“I should have realized it sooner. Everyone else saw it.”
"But only when..." I paused, pressed above my collarbones until my pulse beat into my fingertips. "He had his hands around my neck."
"The illusion broke," Colleen said. "You're sitting here because of it."
The air in her office cooled my lungs. I’d known on the first session that someone who kept bushels of eucalyptus was the right person to help me.
“I should have realized it sooner. Everyone else saw it.”
B's notes: Great writing. You had me in the beginning and lost me a little at the end. I thought she was seeking help because she chooses the wrong man all the time (Hello? Been there). But she's talking about a guy strangling her and the therapist simply says the illusion broke. It's so nonchalant. I'd think Bonnie would be crying and shaking. Maybe, we need more actions to see how she feels about this incident. Bring in the emotions to this scene because at first I thought it was going to be a light romantic comedy or something.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop # B-10
Welcome to day five of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-10 Elizabeth Rosenman
I didn’t know how much longer I could wait. I sat up straight, drumming my fingers on the desk. My tongue touched each tooth in turn.
B's notes: This is an odd action to start off with. I'd come up with a different one. I can see being nervous and dragging your tongue back and forth across the back of your teeth, but not touching each one in turn. I could just not be that talented and someone else may disagree with me.
Dr. Shah wound her way through the rows of students. “Alexis,” she said.
B's note: Maybe have her hand the paper to make it clearer.
A bright red B. Oh my God. My lowest grade ever.
I pinched my wrist as hard as I could and stuffed the English paper into my binder before anyone could see. I didn’t bother to check the comments—plenty of time to memorize those later.
B's notes: Okay, maybe I'm just not getting some of the actions here. Why does she pinch her wrist? I could see her biting her tongue, seething, or swearing under her breath, maybe.
My throat closed up. My G.P.A. would sink. Miranda would pass me in class rank. One single B could ruin everything.
What would my mother say? She’d never forgive me.
The bell rang. I made it to the hallway, close to the bathroom now. Made it to the safety of a stall before the tears rushed out.
B's note: I'd rework this paragraph. I know what you were trying, but it read choppy to me. And there's an echo with 'made it' (ignore me if you wanted an echo).
Why didn’t I work harder? I didn’t deserve an A anyway. Dummy, lazy, fat moron.
I jerked my left sleeve up. A paper clip would do, one of those big ones in my English binder. I uncurled the clip, molding the metal into a straight line. I scraped the clip back and forth across my fat upper arm until beads of blood popped up.
It wasn’t enough. I took a deep breath. I scraped four more times, changing the line into an angular B.
The scratches would burn and remind me what I’d done. Exactly what I deserved.
B's note: The writing is good here. This is one of the times where I don't want to start right in the action. I'm not connected to the character enough yet to be sympathetic about them mutilating themselves. In a story like this, we need to get to know your character and feel for them before this action. There can be hints of it, maybe glimpses of hiding scars or a friend seeing them and asking what they are. Others may feel differently than me, so I hope they'll comment and tell us what they think.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
After The Madness Workshop # B-7
Welcome to day four of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-7 Melanie Conklin
It’s three weeks into my freshman year and no one, much less a certain best friend of my big brother, knows I exist. Except for Tammy. And Brian, of course, but middle school friends don’t count in high school. It’s no big surprise, really. A girl with all the answers is not going to be the most popular girl in school.
B's notes: It's really important to have a stellar first sentence. This one isn't bad, but why not her big brother? It's his best friend, right? Where's her brother? Why does it matter that her brother's best-friend ignored her. I'd make this sentence tighter and hook us. Why don't middle school friends count. Going into high school, your friends from middle school mean the world to you.
“Hey, Katie.” Brian whispers, trying to get my attention on the sly.
B's notes: It's really important to have a stellar first sentence. This one isn't bad, but why not her big brother? It's his best friend, right? Where's her brother? Why does it matter that her brother's best-friend ignored her. I'd make this sentence tighter and hook us. Why don't middle school friends count. Going into high school, your friends from middle school mean the world to you.
“Hey, Katie.” Brian whispers, trying to get my attention on the sly.
But Mr. Hughes is looking my way, so I keep my trap shut for once. Sweat gleams on his forehead. An Indian Summer has turned our cinder block classroom into a stinky beige oven.
“Katie,” Brian whispers again, “Do you know why they call it Indian Summer?”
B's notes: I'd lose the first 'Indian Summer' reference and have Brian tell her about it. It shows us his character - he knows something she doesn't.
B's notes: I'd lose the first 'Indian Summer' reference and have Brian tell her about it. It shows us his character - he knows something she doesn't.
I stare blankly at him, confused by the jumble of my thoughts and his words. Did he just read my mind or did I read his?
“Never mind,” Brian says, looking bummed. He means well, really. He’s just a chronic over-sharer of useless information. I shrug off the weirdness and whisper back.(Put this sentence in the paragraph below with her dialogue.)
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, the theory is European colonies expected raids by Native American war parties late in the summer, so they called it Indian—“
“Excuse me, Brian,” Mr. Hughes says, “Let’s keep our minds on biology, shall we? As I was saying, today we will discuss the structures of the cell. But first I have a little surprise for you.”
He turns to his desk and scoops up an armload of photocopies. We hold our collective breath.
B's notes: I remember the pitch for this one, and I was intrigued by her physic gift. The writing is good here, but I think you need to add something more to this scene to draw the reader in. Maybe a little humor. The setting isn't unique here, and I'm not hooked yet. If you're going to start off in a class room, you'll have to have something unique happen to set it apart from all the other manuscripts that start off in classroom settings. Does your story really start here? I've had to cut entire chapters before to get to where my story actually started.
B's notes: I remember the pitch for this one, and I was intrigued by her physic gift. The writing is good here, but I think you need to add something more to this scene to draw the reader in. Maybe a little humor. The setting isn't unique here, and I'm not hooked yet. If you're going to start off in a class room, you'll have to have something unique happen to set it apart from all the other manuscripts that start off in classroom settings. Does your story really start here? I've had to cut entire chapters before to get to where my story actually started.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop # B-8
Welcome to day four of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-8 Ryann Jansen
I focused on the silver haired woman standing in her doorway in front of me. The craggy lines of her face sunk in around her eyes and mouth. She looked like somebody’s sweet old granny. She might have been someone’s granny, but right then she seemed far from sweet.
B's note: I'd add something unique to this first line other than the 'silver haired woman'. You do such a great job with descriptions, put some of that in your first sentence and make it shine.
“Please, Mrs. Golden. This is all I have right now.” I pulled a wad of crumpled cash from my apron pocket. “It’s everything I made today, okay? I work a double tomorrow, and I’ll give you whatever I make then too.”
My landlady sighed as she counted out the bills, clicking her tongue against her teeth as the money piled from one of her sandpaper hands to the other. They were all one dollar bills, so it wasn’t nearly as much as it looked like. The sound made me want to smash my head into the ugly mustard colored walls around me, and the apartment behind her was so foul smelling it made my nose itch. It reeked of soured food and must. Birds cawed in their cages, flapping their wings as they bounced around. Between the smells, the birds and the disgusting sound Mrs. Golden was making as she counted my meager earnings, it was amazing I didn’t start clawing at the walls.
“This is only forty-seven dollars, Audrey. Your mother owes me over a thousand! It would take you years to work it off at this pace, which is time I don’t have. I need a tenant who pays rent.”
B's notes: The writing and descriptions are wonderful, and I'd keep reading because of it. Also, we see that Audrey has to take care of the rent because her mom can't, which sets up conflict. With that said, I think you need a bigger hook to start with. Reel us in and then give us this scene.
I hope this helps! <3
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
After The Madness Workshop # B-5
Welcome to day three of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-5 Melanie Stanford
My relationship with Eric Wentworth began and ended with a song. B's notes: I like this first line. Great hook! The song it started with was classic, beautiful, serene. A song that conjured up images of ballerinas floating across a stage, or ladies in large hoop dresses dancing with men wearing fancy coats and neckties. A song you could fall in love to.
Our end—well that song was unfinished. Just notes, a few phrases, nothing complete. It was an experiment, an attempt. A beginning—in its own way. But it was our end. Or at least it was the soundtrack to our end.
Luckily, I never had to hear that song in its entirety. Maybe he gave up on it, maybe it was jinxed. Whatever the reason, I was glad I didn’t have to hear it blaring from the radio, our demise turned into a number one hit.
That didn’t stop me from hearing him though. Soon he was everywhere. I couldn’t avoid him. Sometimes I wanted to, wished I could, wished his voice would stop haunting me. But sometimes I listened, clutching my memories to my chest as if they were the most precious thing I owned.
Our end—well that song was unfinished. Just notes, a few phrases, nothing complete. It was an experiment, an attempt. A beginning—in its own way. But it was our end. Or at least it was the soundtrack to our end.
Luckily, I never had to hear that song in its entirety. Maybe he gave up on it, maybe it was jinxed. Whatever the reason, I was glad I didn’t have to hear it blaring from the radio, our demise turned into a number one hit.
That didn’t stop me from hearing him though. Soon he was everywhere. I couldn’t avoid him. Sometimes I wanted to, wished I could, wished his voice would stop haunting me. But sometimes I listened, clutching my memories to my chest as if they were the most precious thing I owned.
It was almost a relief, when life got in the way. Then I didn’t have to make the choice. But hardly a day went by that I didn’t think of him, or hear him, at least once.
B's notes: This is a great opening. Love this! But why not just say right out that Eric Wentworth is a famous singer and he wrote songs for her before he became famous? This is just my thought, and some one else may feel differently.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop B-6
Welcome to day three of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-6 Marisa Kanter
People say that Mom was a totally different person before. B's notes: This first line doesn't hook. Start your story off with a first sentence that zings. She was alive. Vibrant. Happy. She made home cooked dinners on a regular basis. She was spontaneous, packing up the van and driving everyone down the Pacific Coast Highway, for no other reason other than because she could. She hummed along to Beatles tunes while vacuuming. She was trendy, in both style and lifestyle. She used to go out for martinis on Tuesdays. Met with a book club on Thursdays. Mom could never sit still, she always had to be doing something.
They say that her smile could light up a whole room.
I’ve never seen my mother smile.
I knock twice on the hollow wood door. The thin as paper door. I hear the cries. The screams. They keep me up at night. Doors are meant to keep things out. This door keeps my mother in.
The response, a long sigh, means that I’m allowed in. I tread carefully over the heaps of clothes that cover the floor. Mom lies in the middle of her bed, arms sprawled out at her sides, all the twisted sheets off in a corner. With her head in a pillow, all I can see is her matted brown hair that’s streaked with gray. She hasn’t changed her clothes since last week.
“Lunch time,” I say, my voice peppy and fake. The way it always has to be around her.
She raises her right arm and points, indicating that I should place the food on the night table. I place the turkey and cheese sandwich down and leave, knowing that when I go back in for dinner, the sandwich will still be there, untouched.
B's notes: This is written well, but I'm not hooked. Is this where your story truly starts? You stated this is YA in your email, so most teens would put this book down if you open with this bit about her mother. Start with the inciting event. The event that propels us into the story. You can work her checked-out mom in later, when we're invested in your main character.
I hope this helps!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
After the Madness Workshop # B-3
Welcome to day two of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-3 Issy B
This morning turned out to be perfect for a run. B's notes: This first sentence doesn't hook. If you want to hook your reader, make this first sentence zing. The air was just cool enough that I was not sweating too badly, even though my lungs were killing me by mile three. My sneakers pounded along the familiar paths, kicking up a small cloud of dust. I dodged rocks and ruts in the dirt path and pushed up a steep incline with one last burst of speed. As I neared the top, a flash of blond hit the corner of my eye and I stumbled, whipping my head around to try and find its source. B's notes: This sentence is written well, but the action seems odd to me. She's whipping her head around as she's stumbling? Except for a few little brown birds, the woods were empty with no gold or yellow in sight. Breathlessly shaking off the adrenaline, I slowed to a walk and then dropped my hands to my knees. I had to stop being so jumpy. B's Notes: Why is she so jumpy? It’s not like the Star Mountains were some back alley in Camden or something B's notes: I'm not connected to this reference. I've never been in Camden and I wouldn't know if the back alleys are dangerous. Make sure your readers can connect to your comparisons. Nothing ever happens here. B's notes: Explain 'nothing'. It could be a lot of things.
Heart rate nearing normal, I straightened up and felt the breath catch in my throat for a completely different reason. I was standing at the top of the hill, looking out over acres of fields on one side and forest on the other. Vale da Castanheira,“valley of the chestnut tree”, my grandparents’ land, was pretty B's note: What makes it pretty? This is a ho-hum verb. and deserted, the forest still waking up around me. Exhaustion or no, being up here, staring out over the world so early in the morning, was definitely a rush.
B's notes: I might start sounding like a broken record. The writing is good here, but I'm not hooked. There's nothing interesting happening here. Your reader won't be pulled into your story until something interesting happens. There is a hint of it with the flash of blond she sees, but that's it. There are many ways to open your novel, not just mid-action, but however way you decide to open it, make sure to make it unique and use stronger verbs. And ask yourself, "Is this where my story truly starts?" Your first 250 words is prime real estate, use it to draw in your readers (agents).
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop # B-4
Welcome to day two of After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
B-4 Carmen Brack
My heart was beating frantically, making me dizzy with the deafening rush of blood in my ears Okay. Breathe, Seb. Just breathe.
Fuck it. How was that supposed to be hands-on help?! B's notes: I don't know about this sentence. What does he mean by hands-on help? For himself? And do you really need this punctuation. Show us he's freaked by his actions instead. As if I wasn’t breathing all the time anyway. As if I had a choice. I fidgeted once more, trying to glance at my reflection in the mirror over my shoulder, trying to reach my upper back with my hands. Hesitating to touch, scared of what… they… B's notes: the eclipses aren't working here, maybe try italicizing 'they' instead. might feel like. With a huff, I decided to just get it over with. I carefully lowered my hands over the area between my shoulder blades to touch the abomination that I discovered when I got up this morning. B's notes: Why didn't you start with the first time he found the abomination?
They were like silk to the touch. Feathery. Frail.
It was unmistakable. A pair of butterfly wings was growing on my back. They were small so far, but they felt organic. Embedded into my skin and muscles and bones. Somehow, I knew that they were now irrevocably a part of me. Unwelcome as they sure as hell were, I could not bring myself to try and cut them off just yet. Not knowing what else to do, I left the bathroom and walked over to my closet, dodging the heaps of random stuff littering my floor. I chose a big, loose shirt in the hope that no one would notice a bulk of any sort. I would also have to somehow avoid any well-meant pats on the back from my friends. My cheeks heated B's notes: Would a guy think about his cheeks heating up? I'm thinking not, but I could be completely wrong. up just thinking about it. They couldn’t ever find out. I’d never live the “fairy boy” comments down.
B's notes: This was funny and I enjoyed reading it. Great job!
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Monday, March 26, 2012
After The Madness Workshop # B-1
And my first critique is ...
#B-1 Laura Toeniskoetter
The last few remains of sunlight reflected off of the building across the street, glistening in pink light and mixing with the dark colors of the building to create a rainbow. B's notes: This is a lackluster first sentence. I'd start it off with a better hook. Something that will grab an agent's interest. In one room, a light burned inside. It added a flame to the rays of color. If I held my hand up, I could put the fire out, and the whole rainbow would be ruined. B's notes: How does this move the story?
As the last sliver of light disappeared into the night, I took my spot in the kitchen, in between the refrigerator and the wall. The tight spot would be easily missed.
The metal of the refrigerator was cold on my arm. Cold and sleek like the rest of the apartment. It lacked a homey feeling and screamed of a bachelor pad. B's notes: This is good.
The couch was an off-green color with modern wood framing and stiff cushioning. A glass table sat in front of the couch. Another table sat on the side. It was inside its single drawer that I’d found gun number one. The other was stuffed in his bedroom dresser.
B's notes: Here's what piqued my interest. The guns. Why are they there? And what is she going to do with them? Why did you put this in past perfect tense? Why not start out with her entering the apartment and recovering the guns, and then showing us the apartment with the actions going on around it?
Throughout the entire apartment, there’d only been one item that made it seem like a home, and not just a place to live: the picture of his fiancée. Deceased now, she had been pretty, to say the least. Looking at that picture while covering the apartment, I’d wondered if her death had anything to do with the way JonathanWalker had turned out. A man with a successful life ahead of him, and he threw it all away to try and help some budding terrorist group in the Middle East.
B's notes: The writing and description is done well here, but I'm not hooked. All the rainbow and furniture descriptions aren't pulling me in. You only have 250 words to hook an agent. Use it and start with the dramatic action. You can always bring in all this description throughout the first chapter. Just don't do it in the opening.
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
After The Madness Workshop # B-2
Welcome to After the Madness Workshop! Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, the writers at YAtopia, and myself will critique the first 250 words of two brave writers' manuscripts per day for the next seven to eight days. There are four blogs joining in to offer up suggestions. Click on my partners' sites in my sidebar to view the other critiques.
And next up is ...
#B-2 1000th.monkey
I sometimes forget that crazy is relative, like how Triss’ driving seems normal until someone new hitches a ride in the backseat.
Wednesday after school, Triss drove a couple freshmen to the mall. I was fine until she spun the wheel, yanked up on the e-brake, and one kid clocked me in the head as he fought to stay upright. They were screaming at Triss to pull over, and that’s when it hit me. Is it normal to brace your elbow against the door and jam your knees against the dash?
From gripping the seat through so many car rides, I’d worn a hole clear through the stuffing and my hand was clamped around a sharp piece of metal frame. It hurt like hell, but I had enough brains not to let go until Triss stomped on the brakes, hopped the curb, and the car lurched to a stop six inches from some old guy with a shopping cart. Hopefully he’d just stocked up on Depends.
Like I said, crazy is relative. I never think about Triss’ driving until someone’s screaming at her from the backseat, but I always ride shotgun. Always have, always will.
Even on days like today when there’s a dead body in the trunk and Triss has slugged back so much vodka she can’t shift properly and keeps grinding the gears of her old, yellow Volvo sedan. The thing’s a beast, an ugly beast, even with the lopsided daisies she spray-painted across the doors one night when we were tanked up on anti-depressants and home-made sangria, both jacked from her dad’s condo.
B's notes: This is funny, and the writing is good, but I was lost in the extraneous details. Why is he thinking about Triss' driving and the daisies on her Volvo when there is a dead body in the back seat? Why isn't he freaked out about the dead body in the opening? Wouldn't he be freaked about the events causing the dead body to end up in the back seat? Or, if he was in on it, wouldn't he be worried that the police might stop them because of Triss' crazy driving? Is this a normal occurrence for them? I'd get that out right away. If they do kill on a regular basis, show that upfront.
Do know, the writing and the main character's voice did hook me. And I did laugh at several things in this opening.
Remember this is subjective and others' may feel differently. So I'll now pass it on to the readers to critique. Please leave your comments, and remember the rules of critiquing ... be nice, which I'm sure you all will be, but I have to say it ... you know.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
It's My Birthday ... and I'm giving away books
It's my 2nd annual birthday giveaway! I'm giving some books away to a few lucky followers. Names will be selected from both my followers list and my Networked Blogs list. I won't bore you with a bunch of nonsense, so let's get to the winners.
First winner by Random.org is ...
Sharon Bayliss
And she wins...
Girl Parts by John M. Cusick is a fun read. I couldn't put it down. He did a wonderful job at making me care for a girl companion (a robot for boys to learn about relationships).
Check out this review (because she says it better than me in an accent - except for the bit about the cover - I LOVE the cover) ...
The next winner is...
Juliana Haygert
And she wins ...
By Lauren Hammond
I chose this book because it's written by my most wonderful agent Lauren Hammond. I love her writing and how she's pushed me to be a better writer.
Love Sucks by Lauren Hammond whisks you from the seventeen hundreds to present time with Cara the last of the vampires who sets out on a journey to find her soul mate, the one person who is designed for her, but will he give up everything he knows to be with Cara? Or will she wander the earth for the rest of eternity alone?
Check out the trailer...
And the next winner is ...
Christina Mercer
And she wins...
I chose this one because the fabulous agent, Louise Fury, with L. Perkins represents the author, Jennifer Safrey. Louise was so kind to participate in our Pitch Madness after a long long airplane ride from Africa. This is a book I can't wait to read! Actually, I'm buying it for myself, as well.
About the book: Gemma Fae Cross, a tough-girl amateur boxer whose fiance is running for congress, has just made a startling discovery about herself. She is half faerie - and not just any faerie, but a tooth faerie A hybrid of fae and human, Gemma is destined to defend the Olde Way and protect the fae - who are incapable of committing violence - from threats to their peaceful and idyllic way of life, which must be maintained by distilling innocence collected from children''s baby teeth. But when a threat to the fae mission emerges, Gemma is called upon to protect her heritage, and become a legendary fae warrior... even if it means sacrificing everything she knows about being human.
And our final winner is ...
Eric Steinberg
And he wins ...
I chose The Fault In Our Stars by John Green because I can't wait to read it!
Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.
Winners please email me at brenleedrake(at)gmail(dot)com and tell me if you want a book or Kindle ebook or, if it's available at Barns & Noble for Nook, that.
Thanks for celebrating my birthday with me! Come back Monday, March 26 for the first round of critiques for the After The Madness Workshop.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Birthday Giveaway ... tomorrow
I'll be giving away books tomorrow to celebrate my birthday. You don't have to do anything. If you're a follower, you're already entered. I really appreciate each and every one of you. Hugs!
Monday, March 19, 2012
After The Madness Workshop - sign up now!
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When reading for our recent PitchMadness, we noticed the entries that didn't make it to the agent match was because the first words weren't hooking us. There wasn't a unique element to pull us in, the setting was right but the action was too familiar, or the story started in the wrong place. So we decided to do another workshop focusing solely on the opening page.
Shelley Watters, Erica Chapman, and the writers at YAtopia are joining me in critiquing your opening words on their sites this month.
Here how it's going down...
If you want to join in sign up on the linky below. Remember your entry will be placed on our blogs and critiqued not only by us but also by your peers. We're accepting up to
Only the first
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Wednesday, March 14, 2012
PitchMadness Recap
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First off, I want to thank all the agents who made this such a success. There were a few glitches but everyone was so kind and they were fixed quickly.
John Cusick - Scott Treimel NY
Sarah LaPolla - Curtis Brown
Sara Sciuto - Full Circle Literary
Molly Ker Hawn - The Bent Agency
Lauren Hammond - ADA Management
Judith Engracia - Liza Dawson Assoc.
Carlie Webber - Jane Rotrosen Agency
Louise Fury - L. Perkins Agency
Gordon Warnock - Andrea Hurst literary
Kevan Lyon - Marsal Lyon Literary Agency
The Wild Card Agent: Victoria Marini - Gelfman Schneider Literary Agents
Next, I want to thank Shelley Watters and Cassandra Marshall for co-hosting this awesome contest with me. You both rock! Check out their sites for the other entries in the contest.
Then, Erica Chapman for reading through the first round of slush with me, and sometimes again when I just couldn't decide on my reads.
Finally, to all the 198 participants who put themselves out there. It was so hard to choose the best entries for the contest. There were some entries I said yes to that didn't make it. A lot made it to the contenders round. If you didn't get to the match round or didn't get a request, please remember that reading is subjective. You just have to find that person who falls in love with your manuscript. There was an entry that I was stoked about and absolutely loved that didn't get a request. And then there was one that I pulled out of the trash because I really liked it, and it got tons of requests. So you see, it's just a luck game sometimes. Keep writing. Keep querying. And keep playing the game.
B-1 PECULIAR DARK - winner Judith Engracia - Three of a Kind (Q + 50 pages)
B-2 ParaWars: UPRISING - winner Louise Fury - Two Pair (Q + 25 pgs.)
B-3 THE GOOD DIE YOUNG - redacted due to a pending offer
B-3 THE GOOD DIE YOUNG - redacted due to a pending offer
B-4: SOUL-CALLED LIFE - winner Carlie Webber - Straight (Q + 75 pgs.)
B-5: FOREVER FRIDAY - winner Judith Engracia - Four of a Kind (Q + 150 pgs.)
B-6: DENIZENS - winner Sara Sciuto - Three of a Kind (Q + 50 pgs.)
B-7: VENOM'S CURSE - winner Louise Fury - Three of a Kind (Q + 50 pgs.)
B-8: NUMBERLESS - winner Sara Sciuto - Flush ( Q + 100 pgs.)
B-9: PELE AND YO-YO - winner Molly Ker Hawn - Full House (full request)
B-10:THE PIRATE OF VALLENTA - winner John Cusick - Two Pair (Q + 25 pgs.)
B-11: CHANGELING - winner John Cusick - Straight (Q + 75 pgs.)
B-12: FLICKER went into a CHALLENGE round against John Cusick and Victoria Marini bidding Royal Flushes - ultimately, Victoria won a Full request!
B-13: SCAVENGER HUNT - winner Molly Ker Hawn - Straight Flush (winners choice)
B-14: DUSTED - winner John Cusick - Three of a Kind (Q + 50 pgs.)
B-15 BODYGUARDING EVIL - winner John Cusick - Flush (Q & 100 pages)
B-16: THE PACKING HOUSE - winner Gordon Warnock - Flush (Q + 100 pgs.)
B-17: PROJECT: SINNERS CAN BE SAINTS - winner Molly Ker Hawn - Full House (full request)
B-18: HOW TO DATE A NERD went into a CHALLENGE round against John Cusick and Carlie Webber bidding Flushes - ultimately, Carlie won a Full request!
B-19: SWEET AMBROSIA - winner Lauren Hammond - Full House (full request)
B-20: THELMA BEE - winner Molly Ker Hawn - Full House (full request)
Check the sidebar if you want to read any of them.
Until next time ... that's it!
Monday, March 12, 2012
March Madness Agent Pitch Match. Game on. - Welcome Agents!
A big welcome to all of the agents, readers, and participants who are excited about the Pitch Madness event!
All comments will be moderated from here on out so that the agents can play their hands in secret. They'll have until March 14th at 12pm EST when comments will be published and winners will be revealed,
Readers and participants can follow along with the Twitter hashtag #PitchMadness too!
There are sixty entries that made it to this final round. I've got twenty, Cassandra has twenty, and Shelley has twenty, so be sure to visit their blogs and check out the other entries too!
Best of luck to everyone!
Agents, SHOW US YOUR HANDS!
Pitch Madness # B-3 YA Sci-Fi Thriller: THE GOOD DIE YOUNG (REDACTED)
# B-3 YA Sci-Fi Thriller: THE GOOD DIE YOUNG
This entry has been removed because of a pending offer.
Pitch Madness # B-15 YA Fantasy: BODYGUARDING EVIL
# B-15: YA Fantasy: BODYGUARDING EVIL
She is pure evil and has a plan to take over and control the world. Thousands will do anything and everything to kill her. There is only one problem. I am her bodyguard.
A thin line of drool drips from a foot long tusk and almost falls on my head. I hate drool. I guess no one really likes it, but this slobber is even worse than what people imagine when someone thinks of saliva. The drool is thicker than most slime with a horrible green hue. The drool is horrible but the face it is coming from is worse. Imagine an ugly hairy walrus but instead of tusks pointing down, they point up. Then put this walrus head on top of a giant man. The drool is flying off this ugly walrus because it is furious. Luckily, for me I’m not the object of this madness. I’m just a measly little assistant. I’m no more than a gopher.
What is an assistant doing next to a salivating walrus headed giant? I’m the assistant of the person Mr. Ugly is about to fight.
Pitch Madness # B-1 YA Contemporary Fantasy: PECULIAR DARK
After an illness leaves fifteen-year-old Angela laced with dangerous magic, she has two options: learn to kick some ass or die horribly at the hands of shapeshifters from a parallel world. Decisions, decisions.
The wind woke Angela before the fever did.
Back home, surrounded by New Jersey’s dense woods and thick greenery, the treetops had caught every breeze, tossing them around far overhead, but it was different here. The wind bowled over the plains like a brute. It wrapped around the house, rooted out cracks and corners, and lodged itself there, howling and whistling.
Angela lay beneath her comforter, listening to the roof and walls shudder under gusty slaps. All of her skin was aching, and the insides of her body felt molten with heat, but whenever she kicked her blankets off, she shivered violently. Pain throbbed from her temples up to the crown of her skull and back down into her jaw. Her limbs were weak and heavy, and the backs of her eyes were boiling.
She felt like hell.
Pitch Madness # B-2 YA Post-Apocalyptic Paranormal: ParaWars: UPRISING
Seventeen-year-old Kendry Hartshorn thought the war between humans and paranormals wouldn't change her. She thought she knew Axel, her gargoyle best friend. She thought she was human. She was wrong. About everything.
It wasn’t the apocalypse anyone expected.
There were no nuclear bombs or failing economies, no plagues or bio-warfare. The Paranormal Uprising happened overnight, in silence. We woke to myth and legend, and a changed world. Until that day two years ago, most of us hadn’t known the paras were anything more than story or superstition, something told to amuse or frighten us.
But they were real. And they were tired of hiding. Tired of being hunted by secret organizations that didn’t want anyone to know about them. Tired of being forced out of a world that belonged as much to them as to us. So the paras did the last thing anyone who knew them expected.
They showed the world they existed.
I went to bed thinking about my English exam and how much I was sure I’d bombed my drama audition. When I woke up, who got the lead in our school production didn’t matter.
Pitch Madness # B-4 YA Paranormal: SOUL-CALLED LIFE
# B-4: YA Paranormal: SOUL-CALLED LIFE
Maggie, a Soul Collector, is due for promotion, but when her soul gets stuck inside a mean girl's body, she becomes vulnerable to her forgotten dark past, making her question what side she's really on.
Our target, Joseph Landry, exited the deli—or waddled from—with his brown paper bag filled to the brim with greasy food. The smell washed over me and I practically gagged. Humans tended to put the most horrific things into their bodies.
“Dylan.” I snapped my fingers at the shivering ginger-haired boy staring at the passing cars.
Great, here we go again with the post-traumatic, or should I say post-death syndrome.Dylan came to my service a few weeks ago and his training sheet was lacking. Any presence of a car would turn the kid into a pile of nerves. On the human plane those machines were everywhere, so I had to guide him easily through his training as a Soul Collector. Felix, my boss, constantly urged me to be easy with the newbies but after years—and years—of being a training officer, I couldn’t help but make the job a little fun for myself.
Pitch Madness # B-5 YA Paranormal: FOREVER FRIDAY
# B-5: YA Paranormal: FOREVER FRIDAY
When Friday discovers she isn’t just an immortal, but also the only one capable of killing another, she must leave everyone she loves or risk becoming a deadly weapon in the world’s oldest blood feud.
Un milagro, they called me. A miracle. I heard the nurses whisper it to each other as they passed my hospital room. I saw it on the news for three days before my story was overshadowed by celebrity gossip and political scandals. And it was the first thing the Chilean doctor said to me when my scan results came back normal.
But I didn’t believe in miracles.
“Good morning, señorita,” the nurse said as she pulled back the curtains. “You are going home today, no?”
I nodded.
“Muy bien. The doctor will be in to release you soon.”
I tried to focus on the television, but I still found myself replaying the accident in my mind. Everyone had known it was my dying wish to go to Paris, ever since I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor over a year ago. So when the woman from the wish foundation called to tell me I’d been granted an all-expenses-paid vacation to Chile, I was seriously confused.
Pitch Madness # B-6 YA Urban Fantasy: DENIZENS
# B-6: YA Urban Fantasy: DENIZENS
It’s easy to build a reputation as an infamous thief when nobody knows your secret, but soon Fairley will have to use her talent for turning mirrors into doorways to flee a gargoyle hunting her.
I never imagined something as simple as a wooden box would have me running for my life through an antique store. Then again, in my line of work some encounters went down smooth as glass while others ended with prospective clients trying to dismember me.
A searing pain sliced through my upper right arm, and a quick glance down showed blood welling from a cut an inch deep. My inner girly girl growled at having my clothes damaged and it fueled my anger.
Iran past where the knife had imbedded itself in a dark wooden dresser, its handle still vibrating from the impact.
The knife’s owner nipped at my heels. I turned the last corner and spotted a mirror at the end of the aisle. I pushed my legs harder, the sound of the man’s feet smacking the floor on the other side of the passageway urging me on.
Pitch Madness # B-7 YA Fantasy with Myth: VENOM'S CURSE
# B-7: YA Fantasy with Myth: VENOM'S CURSE
Loka has died. Again. When her next reincarnation opens a third eye into the mythical Hindu realm, she discovers she's a Goddess and someone wants to steal her power, killing her for good this time.
“Damn it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Not again!
My eyes cracked open to reveal a saffron infused, gothic room with high vaulted ceilings. Thick heavy banners of emerald, scarlet, and cobalt hung, brushing whisper-soft, against the marble floor. The ivory stone was bitterly cold and unyielding against my cheek. It was polished to a perfect mirrored gloss, reflecting the image of the room upside down, like a crystal lake.
“Hello, Loka,” a gravel and husk voice said. “What a surprise.”
“No need to rub it in.” I hauled myself to my feet in an ungainly dance of vertigo. I was glad I'd died today when I was wearing under-wear. Yesterday would've been rather embarrassing, with the marble floor bouncing back my daisy knickers hidden beneath my high-lighter pink mini-skirt.
I glared at the three Gods in front of me, and all memories of my past lives flooded back.
Pitch Madness # B-8 YA SF Thriller: NUMBERLESS
# B-8: YA SF Thriller: NUMBERLESS
Seventeen-year-old Eve is genetically enhanced and specially trained to kill alien-human hybrids on Earth as part of a covert invasion. She doesn't expect to fall in love with one, and that changes everything.
We took the interstate up the Massachusetts coast, on our way to hunt aliens in small town America.
While Gabriel drove, I rode shotgun in the back, a modified Remington semi-automatic rifle on the seat beside me. At the first sign of trouble, I’d be ready. He yelled something from the front seat, but I couldn’t hear because the soundtrack from Independence Day was blasting on my iPod. I liked dramatic music when we were hunting.
I pulled out the earbuds. “What?”
“We’re almost there,” he said, pointing to the GPS screen on the dashboard. He had FM Satellite radio tuned to a jazz station out of New Orleans. Our musical tastes clashed, like pretty much everything else about us. “Better make sure you’re ready for trouble, just in case someone tipped them off.”
I pumped my shotgun and smiled at his reflection in the rear view mirror. “Locked and loaded.”
Pitch Madness # B-9 MG Contemporary: PELE AND YO-YO
# B-9: MG Contemporary: PELE AND YO-YO
Yo-Yo is Ramon's good-luck dog, until Ramon's uncle gives him away, just days before Ramon's cello audition. Then new-girl soccer star Anna Peterson adopts Yo-Yo and renames him Pele. The injustice stings Ramon into action.
My best friend, Julio, always said if he had a dog he'd name him Pele because Pele is the king of soccer, and Julio loved soccer more than he loved his very own birthday.
And then I would say if I had a dog I'd name him Yo-Yo, because Yo-Yo Ma is the king of cello, and I loved playing cello more than I loved playing soccer.
Whenever we saw an awesome dog at the park, we'd argue about which name fit best, until I'd say to Julio, "Ay, loco, your mom's allergic," and he'd say to me, "Tonto, Ramon! You know your landlord says no animales." Then I'd punch his arm and he'd punch me back, like thirteen-year-old boys are supposed to, until the dog was out of sight.
On the day I found my dog Yo-Yo, Julio missed watching the Barca vs. Real Madrid game.
Pitch Madness # B-10 MG:THE PIRATE OF VALLENTA
# B-10: MG:THE PIRATE OF VALLENTA
A pirate girl uncovers a royal servant's plans to destroy her country. She'd consider stopping him, but he's locked her in the castle dungeon with a warrior-in-training and a wizard intern – her annoying long-lost brothers.
It started like any other day for Lesath—swabbing the deck aboard the Weeping Phantom. Not the most glamorous job, especially since Putrid Pete had just made his usual mess of the latrine. But as a fourteen-year old girl aboard the most feared pirate ship in all of Vallenta, Lesath wasn't trusted with much else. Raiding foreign lands, being taken prisoner, fighting epic battles over cursed gold? The other crew members of the Weeping Phantom had all the fun.
All Lesath was allowed to do was swab. And she was sick of it.
She'd lived aboard the Weeping Phantom as far back as she could remember, and she never got to do anything more exciting than vanquish a particularly stubborn stain from a pair of trousers or raid the food stores for a midnight snack. It wasn’t fair that she wasn't trusted with any real pirate work. She could probably take half the crew barehanded, and the other half if she had a cutlass - once she'd had a chance to master it.
Pitch Madness # B-11 Young Adult Paranormal: CHANGELING
# B-11 Young Adult Paranormal: CHANGELING
A spell-challenged teen witch must find her inner witchiness to work with a human changeling, find a serial Pixie killer and restore balance in Faery.
Another spell gone kaput.
Skye blew out the pink candles. No matter how hard she tried, they never worked. Maybe asking for Tanner to declare his undying love was too much of a stretch.
Bet her BFF Callie could do it.
Skye whipped out her cell phone, then stopped. Callie would say it was wrong to request a specific person’s love. Easy for her to say. She had a boyfriend. Skye could hear Callie only do a spell to make yourself open to love--the right person will come along.
As if there could be anyone for her but Tanner.
No, what she really needed was courage. She should tell Tanner how she felt. It was possible he was blind to her feelings.
The crunch of gravel in the driveway startled her and Skye opened the curtain. Tanner’s old Dodge pulled up.
Maybe she had some witchy-talent after all.
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