Lucia Gannon
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Hi Kate,
Beautiful writing as usual. I love the rhythm and the musicality of the sentences. I love how you draw the scene out, making the most of every moment, using them to deepen our understanding of how important Haryy and music is to Annie.
One question I had while reading was how old was Annie when she remembered this. I see someone else asked this as well and you said that you weren’t sure. I think that comes across in the writing and it interferes with the voice. At times the voice is that of a much older woman especially in the first paragraph.
In teh second paragraph, it sounds more like child-Annie speaking .’Nobody ever made a sound like that in our church.’ and ‘Harry didn’t sing or play….”
There is some filtering when she says. ” I could feel notes crowding the tips of his fingers.’ This jarred a little as it would be difficult for her to feel that, even though I know what you mean.
I love ‘I might have been listening to God’s own trumpet blast,’ and the earlier reference to God’s almighty footsteps in the eaves. It’s so atmospheric and keeps the imagery cohesive if that makes sense.
I got a bit confused when I read the line, “I was shaking so hard, I didn’t dare go inside.” as earlier she had seen him and described him as a skinny wisp of a thing.
I love the last sentence. It says it all. ” He was special as an archangel.”
I love your writing. I just think you need to decide on the age of the narrator and this will take flight like one of God’s own angels!
AROC
Hi Julie,
This is so engaging, as usual. I had some of the same questions as Gill and Cithrupa but you answered all of those so the piece makes more sense now. I spotted ‘barefoot-breathless,’ and thought it sounded great but I didn’t think of it as a new word, just a style thing that worked for me.
A couple of niggly things.
The italics at the beginning and then the explanation. Would it work better if Rachel opened her eyes first and then had the thought? I just had to pause over it. I love how you lead us into the voice in the kitchen. How we are lulled into a false sense of security as she listens to the sounds of the countryside and then the angry voice.
I’m not sure the sentence ‘Matthew would never shout….’ works. In the heat of the moment, I think her thinking would be simpler, as in ‘Who was he shouting at? or ‘It was Matthew shouting at someone.’
I thought ‘Matthew’s arm retracted…’ a little clunky. I think it would be more effective in an active voice as in ‘Matthew lowered his arm”
These are only small things and are mainly style preferences, I think.
I liked the tension in the piece. I got a bit mixed up with the pronouns in the last couple of sentences. I guess the panic is Rachel’s. But when you say ,.He’s tried to strike her again,’ I assume you are referring to Lee. Then the next ‘She’s” is Rachel. I wonder if it would be better to say, ‘He’s tried to strike Lee again,’ or ‘A heat of panic hit Rachel’s stomach. Just for the slow-brained like myself! Now it is late, and I have just finished a burst of activity here, so I do mean that I am a bit slow at the moment!
I hope some of this is helpfull.
Thanks, Julie.
Killary Fjord. There was some debate about whether it was indeed a fjord, but the conclusion was that it was! I’m chuffed that you were inspired to look it up. If you do go there, be sure to get in touch. I might be around those parts, even though I live in Tipperary. The Connemara scenery is spectacular especially if the sun shines.
Thanks for your feedback. As I said to the others, the ‘tin foil’ is a space blanket usually used for hypothermia, but it is lined with shiny silvery material like tin foil.
I’m trying to keep her semi-conscious for a while as Jack gets her back to her cottage and tries to find out who he should contact for her, but she is not quite with it enough to tell him. I need them to spend some time together before reality dawns, hence the ‘not quite with it’ state.
Thanks, Paula,
Agree with all your points. Grass would definitely be better than earth!
It’s amazing what other readers pick out. In my head, Jack has only raised her up to a sitting position and is not carrying her, but when I re-read, I see that I have not conveyed this in the prose. So, thanks for that. Anna is not a light little thing, and it turns out that Jack is ill, so he would not be able to lift her! Back to the drawing board. That will probably take me another hour to correct! And even with walking, I wasn’t sure about her head on her chest, so that will definitely go now too.
It’s so good to get such detailed feedback Thanks again.
Hi Alison
Delighted to meet Noah and Pretzel again. You have created a lovely setting, and I can sense Noah’s excitement as he runs to find his friend.
Just a few things that struck me.
I don’t know if you need to say that Noah’s head was swirling with thoughts as you go on to share these thoughts in the next few sentences.
I love the fact that Noah taught Pretzel to laugh. I haven’t heard Pretzel’s voice before but I wonder if he would say ‘ridiculously, fantastically…’ ?
You know the answer to that, so don’t mind me if it is his voice. It is not always easy to know in a short excerpt.
The only other thing is that this is such an important scene that it could be longer. As they have been apart for a while and missed each other, I think they might have more to say to each other before the scene finishes with the joint laughter. But I know this is only 250 words, and I appreciate that this is not the end of the book.
Great to get a sample of the ending. Especially one that is happy ever after!
Hi Gill,
A very powerful piece.
I have read the other’s insightful feedback, so I won’t go over it. I enjoyed this, and as Anja said, feel that I am reading the finished (or certainly 99% finished) article. There is lots of emotion, and it is well presented. Nothing melodramatic or over the top. It’s difficult to find anything to comment on but if I was to notice anything in additions ot the others it would be the sentence ‘Mike lay in the dark and looked back…..’ We were right in Mike’s head, and then this sentence drew me back out when I think you could have stayed closer to his thoughts and said something like, ‘he had been fooled…’
I read your replies to others about Mike being a narcissist. I think this comes across. He is more concerned about his own ego than what might have happened to Laura. I can’t say I particularly like him in this excerpt, as he seems to be focused on revenge only rather than displaying empathy for anyone else.
Looking forward to reading what Debi has to say.
Thanks, Gill and Kate.
I’m not a marathon runner, so I hadn’t thought of that!
Hi Cithrupa,
A lovely, engaging piece full of intrigue and imagination. The idea of Xander hovering over everything while dead but not quite dead takes a little getting used to but that’s just me and my limited imagination! It’s such a good premise for a novel. I always find dialogue difficult and have had lots of feedback that my dialogue needs work but even knowing this, I find it difficult to improve it. So, I am no expert, but as your piece is dialogue heavy, I will do my best to be helpful.
I have read the others’ feedback so I will try to find different things to comment on.
In the first sentence, I found it difficult to imagine Aidan bowing and rushing at the same time and thought you might need to transition from one to the other. I wasn’t sure what ‘underbelly’ you were talking about and wondered if it would be worth mentioning that it was a drinks machine here. As everything is happening so quickly, I found it difficult to keep up with all the action!
Xander’s voice in the next sentence stopped me up, as I wasn’t sure who you meant. Could you lead us to Xander and then have him comment on Aidan’s actions? Maybe there is no need if this is obvious from the previous paragraph. I know you are wedded to the description of the machine, but you go straight from PD5 to PD 1-2 (I think), and this jarred a little. You could keep it, but then do you need to take us out of Xander’s head gradually? I’m not sure if I’m right about the PD here. Obviously, it is Xnader who hears and sees the machine, but he is describing an action without any hint of feeling. So I think this is PD 1 I couldn’t quite visualise the steam being ‘vomited.’ I’m sorry! “Spewed.” maybe. Or maybe not. It’s all a matter of taste.
‘The dark purple…” sounded like Aidan’s POV as how would Xander know what was causing it?
You have a very difficult task, Cithrupa. Your narrator is in the first person, present tense, and you still produce engaging writing week after week. I hope some of the above is useful.
BROC
Hi Anja,
I love the names that you have chosen for your characters. “Wendall, Jacoba, Hubert, Alexandria…’ They keep getting better and already say so much about the character before you tell us anything. Now, how does Jacoba think that someone called Alexandria, whose mother is Jacoba, is ever going to marry someone called Thomas?!
I know we are supposed to comment on everything, but that is so hard. There is so much comedy in this scene. Hubert intent on imparting gossip. Marge, chiming in. Jacoba trying to appear impartial and the delay in letting the reader know that poor unfortunate Thomas is in a wheelchair.
So, the nitty gritty. The first sentence sounds a bit clunky to me as Hubert is telling everyone what they already know, and I feel as if you are saying this just for the reader’s benefit, and it creates a bit of distance. Hubert sounds a bit stilted rather than conversational. I wonder if his sentences were shorter. I like the sentence where you mention Islington. I think this is gossipy and also a bit farcical, and it is exactly what people do when telling a story: go off on random threads that have no bearing on the story.
I’m not sure if Jacoba’s nostril quivering works for me, but that could be just me. Also, it sounds as if someone sees them quivering but I think you mean that she felt them quivering. I love Hubert’s reaction to the eye patch. I can imagine him dreamily staring into space as she says this. I don’t think you need to say ‘so romantic’ as we already know this from your description.
I hope some of this is helpful
I guess poor Thomas will not get invited to tea anytime soon!
Thanks, Gill.
I love getting all this detailed feedback on my prose.
It’s amazing that one person can spend over three hours on a little snippet, feel pretty satisfied and then see how it can be improved even more with such keen and expert feedback.
I agree with all your comments. As I said to Cithrupa, the birdsong is gone, replaced by the ‘screeching of gulls,’ which is much more appropriate. I’m not at the seaside at the moment and wake to birdsong every morning, which explains that!
Anna recognises the fishing boat from her younger days, so I should just say that and call it ‘familiar’ instead of ‘well-travelled.”
Thanks again. I look forward to getting around to yours and the others later in the day.
Thanks so much, Kate for your detailed and considered feedback.
I absolutely agree with everything that you have picked up on. Definitely, the sentence ‘This time…’ does not need the ‘there was.’ I think it sounds much better without it.
I think I need to clarify the ‘tin foil’ as I said to Cithrupa. I don’t want non-medical people to have to work to figure things out just for the sake of a few words of clarification. The space blankets for hypothermia feel and sound a bit like tin foil, but you would only know that if you had been wrapped in one or if you had put one on somebody.
I’m still not sure about the laughing! He is laughing with relief so I probably need to add a sentence or two to show this. I’ll have another look at that.
Thanks again, Kate.
It’s so good to get the keen eyes of a fellow writer looking over my work.
I meant to say that I toyed with the last paragraph for ages and broke it up and put it back together, so it is interesting to read that you would prefer if it was a bit more fragmented.
Hi Cithrupa,
Thanks so much. Sorry for making you work so hard to figure out where she was!
In the book, it would be obvious from the previous chapter that she had managed to get herself up on the grass, above the beach, before collapsing, but of course, in the excerpt, this is not at all clear. Re-reading I realise that I will need to be clearer because he does lead her to the shore.
The ‘tin foil’ is a space blanket for hypothermia that Jack has put around her. Again, this is a medical point that I should probably clarify.
Birdsong will be promptly replaced with ‘the screeching of gulls!’ Thanks for that.
So good to get such detailed feedback. Thanks again.
Hi everyone,
Here is my homework. I’ve tried to include all the things that Debi wants to comment on, so I have rewritten a piece that was over 1,000 words in the original version and condensed it to 243 words. As you can imagine, the original contained some awful stuff!
This is from the middle of the book. Anna goes to Connemara for a temporary break. While there she goes swimming alone late in the evening and gets into difficulty. She manages to get herself onto the beach of an offshore island. Jack, an ex-boyfriend from her college years finds her. I do explain how this happens in the book. It’s not such a coincidence as it seems so just suspend disbelief for now! This is the scene where he rescues her. As always, thanks for the feedback.
Rising and sinking. Up and down. Only this time there was something solid beneath her. Dead, she thought. I’m dead. Best to keep my eyes closed. Splashing. Swishing. Birdsong. The smell of seaweed. It certainly wasn’t hell. Her fingers touched something smooth, like tin foil. Yes, that was it. Her whole body was wrapped in tin foil. And a man’s voice, from long ago, yet the speaker so close she could feel his breath on her face.
‘Anna, wake up,’ the voice said. ‘You’re safe.’
Not dead. Dreaming. No need to wake up yet. There would be pain, she was sure of that, but not yet. Lie still and stay in the dream.
‘Jack,’ she said. ‘You’re here.’ He wasn’t real. She knew that.
‘Anna, thank goodness.’
Why was he laughing?’
Arms reached under her, raising her up. She opened her eyes and pressed her hands into the earth on either side of her body to steady herself. Not dreaming, she thought. He was real. Jack. He was here. Her hand touched his face. Solid and rough. He laughed again and held her gaze.
‘Let’s get you off this island,’ he said, helping her to her feet. ‘I’ve got you.’
She lay her head on Jack’s chest and allowed him to lead her towards the shore, where the waves slapped the sides of a well-travelled fishing boat, and across the fjord, the glinting peak of Mweelrea pointed heavenward in an uncharacteristically cloudless sky.
Absolutely agree, Anja,
I would love to stay in touch. It would be such a pity to lose all of the trust and knowledge that we have between us.
I hope there is a way!
