# Two Lovers



## w.riter

Exchanging kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and there, Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the source of their strength was in their solitude.
They spotted the shiny pond a few hundred of yards away, in the direction they were heading. No one could have described the beauty of the scenery to them better than their own eyes; the pond was described as the ulimate hideaway for the enamored ones, for the ones who would wish a second to become a millenium. 
A small waterfall fed the pond, giving it life. The magic was there and the couple began to undress each other, as if they were thirsty for each other's body.

Just before their imerging into the water, they took a deep kiss thus tasting the scent of their bodies. Gratefully, little by little, step by step, they were simultaneously nearing the small pond's waterfall. In their swannes their looked like amorous half humans.

''Believe this, Neil...'' purred Alice, ''All I want is for these real moments to become eternity...'' whispered Alice into Neil's ear, while yearning for solitude. 

''I couldn't be more convinced that this pond has been created for our solitude only...!'' answered Neil, with her breast in his magnetic hand. They had been lovers for several months now and enjoyed every bit of it. These summer months were fulfilled with starry sleepless nights of pleasure; they got to know each other perfectly. 

Alice caressed his hairy chest in a very particular way. She enjoyed her caressing now even more, as her lover's chest was wet.

Alice's breasts were firm, Neil could tell. And her hair curly. ''She's curly all over the place... Gosh, am I a lucky guy...she's all mine. Body and mind...''

''You're mine...!'' answered Alice to his caressing. In that moment of time, they forgot about everything around them. Everything which brought their souls together there.
But, was love in a first place, or was their love to be overshadowed by Neil's job? He was a stock broker.

''Honey, stop, st...ooop...'' whispered he in her ear, trying to get a word in the sensual edgeways. ''I have to go now... God knows I would like to take this experience even further, but my damned cell phone's ringing.''

His strong arms tightened as he was taking her out of the pond.

He put her in the back seat. ''You'll dress up as we go.'' said Neil giving her her panties and bra. He had already put his jeans and shirt on, and started the car. The car took off. Neil began to speed up; this was his way of air-drying his beautiful black hair.

The couple lived not that far away from the paradise's pond. Their neighborhood was filled with young couples who were their friends. And these friends were lucky, for their neighbors were Neil and Alice.
They met each other at such a party; the giddy Joanne had promissed herself that she would make a couple out of them.
So, one beautiful sunny day, late in the month of July, she threw a party. Yet, this was not just any party. This was a party that her match-making heart desired.

To be continued...


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## bdcharles

Hi,

Edits and suggestions below:



> Exchanging kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and there, Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the source of their strength was in their solitude.




Nothing wrong with the writing here, but I do feel it could use a little more externality. Describe the mountain as N & A move up it. Maybe N picks a flower and hands it to her. Think body language; what would two lovers do, how would they walk and what would they interact with? Think also about picking more powerful verbs; "making their way" is a little ... beige? That's a tricky one because walking is quite a slow activity so how else can it be depicted? In terms of passing scenery perhaps, and little time markers; eg: 



> Exchanging  kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and  there, Neil and Alice were taking their time among the begonias that carpeted the lower slopes of  the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the  source of their strength, Neil mused as he leant into the gradient now dotted with pretty blue-flowering shrubs, was in their solitude.



So there, I had N&A at the lower slopes amid some flowers - so we get the "start" of their walk (lower slopes), active descrition (N&A by the flowers), then motion evidenced by the changing scenery (the increasing gradient, the different foliage) - without having to resort to more prosaic verbs like "walked", instead being able to rely on "leaning into the gradient". It just makes it a bit more - interesting to read, I guess? Just something to think about anyway.





> They spotted the shiny pond a few hundred of yards away, in the direction they were heading. No one could have described the beauty of the scenery to them better than their own eyes; the pond was described as the ulimate hideaway for the enamored ones, for the ones who would wish a second to become a millenium.
> A small waterfall fed the pond, giving it life. The magic was there and the couple began to undress each other, as if they were thirsty for each other's body.



Okay, one thing here is that you say "no-one could have described" and then you promptly describe it!  Personally I like it when writers can, and do, describe stuff (that is, after all, the essence of their job) so have a go - I want to see that scenery. Go all out. Use images, senses, interaction, inner thoughts, every trick in  the bag to take me to that mountainside. Your addition ofd "giving it life" is a nice touch in that vein.




> Just before their imerging into the water, they took a deep kiss thus tasting the scent of their bodies. Gratefully, little by little, step by step, they were simultaneously nearing the small pond's waterfall. In their swannes their looked like amorous half humans.



Sorry, what are "swannes"? Do you mean "swans"? I couldn't quite grasp that sentence in general. I think there is a "their" too many there (and maybe it should be a _there_!) You can probably cut the word "thus" because it doesn't really mean anything that we can't already infer from the sequence of events around it. Free up that space for more load-lifting prose. It's a good image though, as swans are graceful animals, and this helps contextualise N&A nicely.




> ''Believe this, Neil...'' purred Alice, ''All I want is for these real moments to become eternity...'' whispered Alice into Neil's ear, while yearning for solitude.




Ok here we can discuss point of view and what's called psychic distance. Point of view: who are we? Who do you want readers to identify with and care about? Who are you when you write this? Alice? If so, then using psychic distance we can ask: would she actively experience herself as "yearning for solitude" or would she experience a train of thoughts typical of such a yearning? Eg:




> ''Believe  this, Neil...'' purred Alice, ''All I want is for these real moments to  become eternity...'' whispered Alice into Neil's ear. The chippup of a lone cricked seemed to underscore their perfect solutide, and she smiled, twirling a curl of his hair round one delicate finger.



Or some thing. Again, don't forget body language. You can really convey alot with it without having to explain up front that she is "yearning". You are the puppet master here; yank her strings & make her do yearny things  It's also good not to switch point of view too much because otherwise the characters seem less deep and harder to buy into.



> ''I couldn't be more convinced that this pond has been created for our solitude only...!'' answered Neil, with her breast in his magnetic hand. They had been lovers for several months now and enjoyed every bit of it. These summer months were fulfilled with starry sleepless nights of pleasure; they got to know each other perfectly.



Brave choice, describing Neil's hand as magnetic. Personally I am having to rethink my picture of him as some sort of Iron-Man X man type  "Starry sleepless night of pleasure" thought - that's very good, perfectly on-genre 

Alice caressed his hairy chest in a very particular way. She enjoyed her caressing now even more, as her lover's chest was wet.

Alice's breasts were firm, Neil could tell. _[<- are we switching pont of view here? Do we need Neil's perception?]_ And her hair curly. ''She's curly all over the place... Gosh, am I a lucky guy...she's all mine. Body and mind...''




> ''You're mine...!'' answered Alice to his caressing. In that moment of time, they forgot about everything around them. Everything which brought their souls together there.
> But, was love in a first place, or was their love to be overshadowed by Neil's job? He was a stock broker.



Ohh, way to kill the passion! Can this not be mentioned earlier, in some subtle way, like as part of their walk upslope, he can be glad to not be busily stockbroking away at his desk. Otherwise it is a bit of an unwelcome infodump at the wrong moment. I understand he is in fact interrupted here but just use the sound of the phone to do that. We can also then be in a state of semi-nervous expectation throughout, that his work will intrude on this hillside idyll.

''Honey, stop, st...ooop...'' whispered he in her ear, trying to get a word in the sensual edgeways._[<- I don't quite understand that phrase "sensual edgeways" - though I do rather like it. Just thought I'd mention it] _ ''I have to go now... God knows I would like to take this experience even further, but my damned cell phone's ringing.''

His strong arms tightened as he was taking _[<- why "was taking". Why not "took"? Or "lifted"? It is a way to control the pace and flow of the piece. Every detail, every word choice matters] _her out of the pond.



> He put her in the back seat. ''You'll dress up as we go.'' said Neil giving her her panties and bra. He had already put his jeans and shirt on, and started the car. The car took off. Neil began to speed up; this was his way of air-drying his beautiful black hair.



Just an aside; I am getting a sense of Neil here as a bit controlling, a bit Patrick Bateman, with his lustrous obsidian locks and his fast car. "You'll dress as we go." Oh really? You say that to one of the women round this way, you're apt to lose teeth  




> The couple lived not that far away from the paradise's pond. Their neighborhood was filled with young couples who were their friends. And these friends were lucky, for their neighbors were Neil and Alice.
> They met each other at such a party; the giddy Joanne had promissed herself that she would make a couple out of them.
> So, one beautiful sunny day, late in the month of July, she threw a party. Yet, this was not just any party. This was a party that her match-making heart desired.



This is a bit of a time displacement. We were whizzing off back to Neil's precious stocks and shares and suddenly we're months ago? Can this info not be fed in alongside their walk. If you do it that it will not only help build out the characters but also help you manage the flow of time, should you want to.

Okay, that is all I have for now. Hope it helps. Lemme know if you're not sure of anything.


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## Jay Greenstein

> Exchanging  kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and  there, Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up  the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the  source of their strength was in their solitude.


Compare those 47 words to:

Zack Martin woke to the proximity alert’s warble, muttering curses. The tone pattern said a unauthorized craft was maneuvering in near-Earth orbit, close enough to the transfer station that they posed a potential threat.

Releasing the sleepnet’s security latches, he pushed off for the control station, calling, “What’s going on, Zelda?”

It's four words longer than your opening, but look what the reader knows at the end:

• Our protagonist is by name.
• He's aboard something called a transfer station, in orbit around Earth, and presumably someone tasked with responding to emergencies.
• The story takes place in the future.
• He's in a zero-G environment, and sleeps in some kind of netting arrangement that keeps him from floating around the ship.
• We know the problem he faces.
• He's not frightened, he's annoyed, so he feels he can handle it. So, we've had a bit of character development, and know how he feels, and why, at the opening of the story. And we know by his actions, not as a report presented by someone neither in the story nor on the station.
• He has help from someone named Zelda, who is able to hear him and respond without him having to switch anything on or take special action.
• What we know is learned in real-time, moment-by-moment, as the protagonist notices and reacts to events _he_ notices and responds to.

So, fifty-one words and the reader has context for what's going on, and, has been made to wonder "what's going on?" without the narrator having to appear on stage and explain.

Contrast that to what we learn with the first forty-seven words of this story:

• Two people of unknown age are kissing and holding each-other in some unknown way, because of unknown past together. But we learn what they're doing before we learn their names. So as presented, there is no context. And, it's told as a synopsis, in the words of someone talking _about_ them, not in the way they live the scene.
• We know that they're walking up a mountain in an unknown location, in an unknown era, toward an unknown destination, for unknown reasons. And we learn where they are, in general _after_ we learn that they're stopping "here and there."
• We are told how they feel, without knowing why or how it matters, which is a report, not story.
• We learn that what strength they have is the result of being alone. But we don't know what the term "strength" relates to. So the line provides little.

In short, while you know what's going on, the customer learns nothing that provides context, or a reason to _want_ to know more.
So an unknown person, without emotion in their voice is talking _to_ the reader, in general, about unknown people: Telling, in other words, when they could, be showing.

I know you're working hard on this. That's not in question. Nor is your dedication and intent. But you're missing some important tools, so your schooldays writing habits slip into "explain the situation to the reader" mode. And because of that, it "reads okay," when you edit.

Unfortunately, there is only one fix for it, which is to work to become proficient in the tricks the pros use. And that takes time, practice, and study. Take a look at this article. Chew on it, think about it, and kweep at it till it makes sense. Then look at how applying it to your story would change it. I think you'll find that the change will be dramatic, and read a lot more realistically.


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## w.riter

Jay Greenstein said:


> Compare those 47 words to:
> 
> Zack Martin woke to the proximity alert’s warble, muttering curses. The tone pattern said a unauthorized craft was maneuvering in near-Earth orbit, close enough to the transfer station that they posed a potential threat.
> 
> Releasing the sleepnet’s security latches, he pushed off for the control station, calling, “What’s going on, Zelda?”
> 
> It's four words longer than your opening, but look what the reader knows at the end:
> 
> • Our protagonist is by name.
> • He's aboard something called a transfer station, in orbit around Earth, and presumably someone tasked with responding to emergencies.
> • The story takes place in the future.
> • He's in a zero-G environment, and sleeps in some kind of netting arrangement that keeps him from floating around the ship.
> • We know the problem he faces.
> • He's not frightened, he's annoyed, so he feels he can handle it. So, we've had a bit of character development, and know how he feels, and why, at the opening of the story. And we know by his actions, not as a report presented by someone neither in the story nor on the station.
> • He has help from someone named Zelda, who is able to hear him and respond without him having to switch anything on or take special action.
> • What we know is learned in real-time, moment-by-moment, as the protagonist notices and reacts to events _he_ notices and responds to.
> 
> So, fifty-one words and the reader has context for what's going on, and, has been made to wonder "what's going on?" without the narrator having to appear on stage and explain.
> 
> Contrast that to what we learn with the first forty-seven words of this story:
> 
> • Two people of unknown age are kissing and holding each-other in some unknown way, because of unknown past together. But we learn what they're doing before we learn their names. So as presented, there is no context. And, it's told as a synopsis, in the words of someone talking _about_ them, not in the way they live the scene.
> • We know that they're walking up a mountain in an unknown location, in an unknown era, toward an unknown destination, for unknown reasons. And we learn where they are, in general _after_ we learn that they're stopping "here and there."
> • We are told how they feel, without knowing why or how it matters, which is a report, not story.
> • We learn that what strength they have is the result of being alone. But we don't know what the term "strength" relates to. So the line provides little.
> 
> In short, while you know what's going on, the customer learns nothing that provides context, or a reason to _want_ to know more.
> So an unknown person, without emotion in their voice is talking _to_ the reader, in general, about unknown people: Telling, in other words, when they could, be showing.
> 
> I know you're working hard on this. That's not in question. Nor is your dedication and intent. But you're missing some important tools, so your schooldays writing habits slip into "explain the situation to the reader" mode. And because of that, it "reads okay," when you edit.
> 
> Unfortunately, there is only one fix for it, which is to work to become proficient in the tricks the pros use. And that takes time, practice, and study. Take a look at this article. Chew on it, think about it, and kweep at it till it makes sense. Then look at how applying it to your story would change it. I think you'll find that the change will be dramatic, and read a lot more realistically.



Thank you very much for the link! I still haven't read the contents of it, but I'd still like to ask you the following: doesn't genre play any role in showing and telling? Meaning, people who tend to read romance do have a more developed intuition, don't they?


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## Jay Greenstein

> doesn't genre play any role in showing and telling?


Think about it. Which would you rather have: a) someone you can neither see nor hear, handing you a summation of fictional events?  b) Experiencing story in real-time, being made to feel as if you are on the scene so realistically that in really intense scenes the reader may have to stop and catch their breath? Does genre really play a role in that?

Story isn't what happens. That's the progression of the plot. Story lies in the protagonist's struggle, and how they react to adversity. Story is the character agonizing over what to do, and being made to change and grow, against their will. Story lives.

History books are filled with intrigue, betrayal, romance, and adventure. But they're reported. They inform, they don't entertain. They're fact-based. That sig line under my posts says it all. The reader wants to experience the adventure, not learn the history of a fictional character. They need focus not overview and summation. Here's something Dwight Swain says in his book, Techniques of the Selling Writer. The italics are mine:





> Every story deals with a specific instance: this girl, that boy, the murder down the block, old Mrs. Martin’s death, the wifeswapping of those couples out on Little River. A story that attempts to stay at the level of generality is both impossible and a self-contradiction.
> 
> But no matter how specific you get; no matter how tightly you nail your topic down, the data have no meaning _until you find a yardstick-a standard by which to measure and, above all, evaluate them.
> _
> Because we’re men, humans, we consider each phenomenon that touches us in terms of its immediate and/or ultimate effect on man.
> 
> Opinion as to what constitutes man’s welfare varies markedly from time to time and place to place, however. St. Augustine hews to one line, Adolf Hitler to another. And as for Norman Mailer—!
> 
> In the case of our rainstorm, are we to view it through the eyes and feelings of carnival owner or farmer? Power-company trouble-shooter or umbrella salesman? Housewife-with-a-batch-of-clean-clothes-to-hang-out, or housewifelooking-for-an-excuse-not-to-wash-today? The issue is never the event itself; never what happens. A thing matters only insofar as it relates to and affects and is judged by people. _Meaning_ and _significance_ are virtual synonyms in this context. We decide how significant a thing is by the way a particular somebody behaves when faced with a specific instance.
> 
> _In other words, a thing isn’t just significant. It’s significant to somebody._


And that's where I see a problem in your story. In the example I gave from my WIP, the alarm is significant to the protagonist, and influences his actions. In your story, there's no person who finds anything significant, because an external voice is describing, reporting and explaining.

There's a _lot_ to writing fiction for the page that's not obvious, any more than in any other field. In our school days not one tells us what questions a reader wants addressed on entering a scene are, so we don't address them. No one tells us what a scene-goal does for us, or how to handle dialog. So we guess. Aren't you glad your doctor didn't try to practice medicine by using the skills we learned in the health classes—or whatever they call them these days? I know, because I tried, and it was ugly. My first three patients came in, told me their problem, and I no sooner put the blood pressure cuff around there necks and pumped it up then they died on me. Just like that. And I wasn't prepared for whatever had gone wrong with them. That's why, when I turned to writing, I decided to do a bit of study.  

For why a strong viewpoint is necessary, I wrote two articles on the subject, A Mirror for the Mind, and Inside out. Site rules say I can't link to my own articles _in_ a post, but I'm sure you can find them, and they may clarify.

Hope this helps.


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## Ptolemy

Well, you asked me to review this, and I guess I will since I have nothing better to do right now. It's late at night so I won't be holding back on this tbh, it's to late for me to care. 





> Exchanging kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and there [Here and where? It is never explained. Why are they stopping? What is the point of them stopping? There is no point.], Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up the Big Mouth Mountain. [Why the name "Big Mouth Mountain"? Why not Chicita? Or like Zazu? Or any realish sounding name for a mountain? Big Mouth Mountain makes no sense at all.] They felt as if nothing could stop them; the source of their strength was in their solitude.
> They spotted the shiny pond a few hundred of yards away, in the direction they were heading. No one could have described [This to me is a cop out. No wait, I just read on; you do describe it. Why? Why the hell do you say "This pond? Yea, it's indescribable, here it's so indescribable that I will describe it to you. Like... What?] the beauty of the scenery to them better than their own eyes; the pond was described as the ulimate [One of a few spelling errors; should be ultimate, I'll mark these in blue] hideaway for the enamored ones, for the ones who would wish a second to become a millennium. [Holy hell... this is a long sentence. A semicolon isn't a full break, it is 41 words long to describe "indescribable beauty" shorten it. It's way to long, you haven't properly set up a sentence of this size]
> A small waterfall fed the pond, giving it life. The magic was there and the couple began to undress each other, as if they were thirsty for each other's body. [My body twisted at the delivery of this line. Like my toes flew up to the base of the neck I cringed so hard. This isn't romantic, a "they caressed each other as Neil helped his lover out of her sundress or some shit" is romantic. "They undressed due to their ravenous thirst for each other's _BODY" _ain't romantic, it's creepy.
> 
> Just before their emerging into the water, they took a deep kiss thus tasting the scent of their bodies. [The hell is this sentence? "Just before their emerging into the water?" "They took a deep kiss thus tasting the scent of their bodies. Okay... Dr. Ptolemy on the scene, time for some prime sentence surgery. First off, you can't "taste" a smell, you can smell a smell, I know what you were going for, taste is the wrong word. Second off, what are you trying to convey here? They kissed each other before jumpin' in the pond. This is what the sentence should say with the correct grammar rules: Before they entered the pond, the couple shared a deep (french?) kiss, thus (I really don't know) their affection for each other. Now yea, this sentence makes no sense. Just have them share a kiss, then enter the pond, don't establish the pond entering till the next sentence. Gratefully [The word you are looking for is "Gradually" not "Gratefully", little by little, step by step [These actions are all insinuated by the use of "Gradually", they were simultaneously nearing the small pond's waterfall. In their swannes their looked like amorous half humans. [I've really be trying to avoid the F-bomb, but seriously. F***ing seriously. "In their swannes their looked like amorous half humans." THE HELL IS THIS? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Listen, I think last crit I said:Amorous is "Showing feelings of sexual desire, meaning "the" isn't needed. Dance of amorous, is just fine. You basically just buried this advice alive, then danced on it's grave. This is my translation: In their relaxed and irresponsible way (That's what "Swan" means) their looked at each other with some sexual desire. Like jfc. I can barely read this, and you expect me to understand it? I shouldn't have to pry to read what you are trying to convey. This is a romantic story, now I'm no Fabio, but romance needs to flow. This flows like sandpaper. It's coarse, rough, has sharp edges. The grammar is subpar, there is no romantic atmosphere, there is no tone. It's a jumble of words, it's all a bunch of words.]
> 
> ''Believe this, Neil...'' purred Alice, ''All I want is for these real moments to become eternity...'' whispered Alice into Neil's ear, while yearning for solitude. [I just want to pass out. Listen, I'm not in the best mood, so maybe I'm not in the best condition to be commenting on this. I'm coming down with some sort of cold, I feel tired, weak etc. I'm on the last of my pain meds for my meniscus so I'm drugged out of my mind. But come on. I do not need to be sober to see how forced this line is. "All I want is for these moments to last forever Neil." Like come on Alice. Not to mention that "purring" and "whispering" are essentially the same thing, so restating it is next to pointless. Aren't they already in solitude too? I mean they are skinny dipping in a pond on a mountain. Like if that ain't solitude I don't know what is.]
> 
> ''I couldn't be more convinced that this pond has been created for our solitude only...!'' answered Neil, with her breast in his magnetic hand. [God damn man.  "With her breast in his magnetic hand. I mean it's not the weakest metaphor you use, but really, it's so forced. It isn't romantic. Literally I pictured some dude firmly grasping a tit, that's what "magnetic" implies. A firm grasp. Now with my _extensive _knowledge with woman, they usually do not like having their breast firmly grasped like a magnet, but that is just my experience. I also totally forgot to comment on how bad the dialogue is. How is this romantic. It's like two text-to-speech bots got loose and decided to skinny dip in a pond. They have no voice, no passion. Passion is a necessity in romance. Without passion you just have text on a page.) They had been lovers for several months now and enjoyed every bit of it. These summer months were fulfilled with starry sleepless nights of pleasure; they got to know each other perfectly. [Forced exposition that could easily be placed in dialogue.]
> 
> Alice caressed his hairy chest in a very particular way. She enjoyed her caressing now even more, as her lover's chest was wet. [I think I threw up a bit in my mouth. Listen, I feel like I'm being to hard on this. I really do. But c'mon. This isn't romantic. "her lover's chest was wet" Yea, no shit sherlock. They're in a pond, a small body of *water .* I mean Jesus Christ."
> 
> Alice's breasts were firm, Neil could tell [With that iron man grip, I bet he could.] . And her hair curly [That's it? Is she a redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Short? Long? Medium? Okay. This is Alice's character: She's got a nice rack and she's got curly hair. Dream Girl I guess. Jesus Christ v2] ''She's curly all over the place [Oh my god. Oh my freaking god. "She's curly all over the place?" What? Like I can't give any constructive advice here. I have nothing to work on, is he turned on by curls? Why are the curls the important part? ... Gosh, am I a lucky guy...she's all mine. Body and mind...'' [Is he saying this aloud? "Gosh babe, you're so curly! I am so lucky to have your mind and body! Babe! You're SO HOT." At first, I assumed he like said that aloud, _who says something like this aloud? This is an internal thought, not a run of the mill comment on your lover._]
> 
> ''You're mine...!'' answered Alice to his caressing. [Wait. She heard that? So he did say it aloud? Jesus Christ v3] In that moment of time, they forgot about everything around them. Everything which brought their souls together there.
> But, was love in a first place, or was their love to be overshadowed by Neil's job? [I had to take a break after this line. Literally, I'm not joking. I got up and took a walk down the street. It's 12 AM and I got up, tossed on some sweatpants, and a hoodie and went on a walk. I have never been so dumbfounded at a line in a story like I have with this one. What's with the rhetorical question? Why? WHY!? *What does this have to do with anything? Is this the plot? Why is he even out there if it's in the middle of stock broking hours? GO OUT AFTER 4PM FOR YOUR SKINNY DIPPING DATE.* I can't. I really can't. He was a stockbroker. [Jesus Christ v4]
> 
> ''Honey, stop, st...ooop...'' whispered he in her ear, trying to get a word in the sensual edgeways. ''I have to go now... God knows I would like to take this experience even further, but my damned cell phone's ringing. [(...) Straight up. This is romance right? How is this story romantic at all outside of some very softcore nudity? There is nothing here that is making it romance. This sure as hell drives the wooden stake into the vampirical heart that is this being a romance story.]
> 
> His strong arms tightened as he was taking her out of the pond.
> 
> He put her in the back seat. ''You'll dress up as we go.'' said Neil giving her her panties and bra. He had already put his jeans and shirt on, and started the car. The car took off. Neil began to speed up; this was his way of air-drying his beautiful black hair. [I stopped caring at this point. Like I mean really. I don't expect professionally edited sentences, I just expect coherent sentences that eventually formulate into a plot. The thing is? There is no plot. Why is Alice not pissed? What is her reaction? Why is she okay with this? How is she okay with this? He basically blue balled her for the god damn stock market. I mean come on.]
> 
> The couple lived not that far away from the paradise's pond. Their neighborhood was filled with young couples who were their friends. And these friends were lucky, for their neighbors were Neil and Alice.
> They met each other at such a party; the giddy Joanne had promised herself that she would make a couple out of them.
> So, one beautiful sunny day, late in the month of July, she threw a party. Yet, this was not just any party. This was a party that her match-making heart desired. [Telling stuff w/e I don't care at this point.]
> 
> To be continued...



I'm fading in and out of consciousness at this point, I'll set in a conclusion tomorrow with plot points, dialogue faults, and my overall thoughts. 

I just can't right now. 

I'm really sorry on fast it degraded, I just need to lay down.


----------



## w.riter

Ptolemy said:


> Well, you asked me to review this, and I guess I will since I have nothing better to do right now. It's late at night so I won't be holding back on this tbh, it's to late for me to care.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> I'm fading in and out of consciousness at this point, I'll set in a conclusion tomorrow with plot points, dialogue faults, and my overall thoughts.
> 
> I just can't right now.
> 
> I'm really sorry on fast it degraded, I just need to lay down.



I'm aware that this piece is ''a bit'' ''prosaic'', or as you say, ''romance has to flow''. (As for the magnetic hand, it could mean that Neil has magnetic personality.)

Thanks Ptolemy, get better soon!

Still I feel a bit like a lost cause now Nah, just little kidding  I'll keep on learning and writing and follow the pieces of advice I've been given on WF.

I love WF people 
:uotburstofemotions: 

PS: I think I have good ideas here however so I'll keep this as a draft version.


----------



## bdcharles

w.riter said:


> I'm aware that this piece is ''a bit'' ''prosaic'', or as you say, ''romance has to flow''. (As for the magnetic hand, it could mean that Neil has magnetic personality.)



I think the challenge is to _portray _this magneticism rather than simply mention it. It's the difference between a man with a label over him saying "charismatic", and a man that exudes so much charisma that you just _know_. Think about the sort of person Neil is. Picture him; what does he wear? How does he stand? When he and Alice are walking up the mountain, how does his magnetic personality manifest in the way he walks? Take for example this paragraph:



> Exchanging  kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and  there, Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up  the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the  source of their strength was in their solitude.



Here's an exercise: convey Neil's magnetism without changing the events here. All Neil is allowed to do is walk, hold Alice's hand, exchange a kiss, and stop - but you must make him do this in the sort of charismatic, magnetic way that you visualise. You can dip into his thoughts if you wish 


Over to you ...


----------



## w.riter

bdcharles said:


> I think the challenge is to _portray _this magneticism rather than simply mention it. It's the difference between a man with a label over him saying "charismatic", and a man that exudes so much charisma that you just _know_. Think about the sort of person Neil is. Picture him; what does he wear? How does he stand? When he and Alice are walking up the mountain, how does his magnetic personality manifest in the way he walks? Take for example this paragraph:
> 
> 
> 
> Here's an exercise: convey Neil's magnetism without changing the events here. All Neil is allowed to do is walk, hold Alice's hand, exchange a kiss, and stop - but you must make him do this in the sort of charismatic, magnetic way that you visualise. You can dip into his thoughts if you wish
> 
> 
> Over to you ...



Hi bd,

Could this be promissing?:

The both felt as though it could have been a great day for them.''We might go hiking for a while, honey?'' Neal ended a phone call. On the other side was the thoughtful Alice. She just answered with a ''yes'' to Neils proposal to go hiking. 
''Is he going to propose to me up in the hills and vineyards?'' thought Alice. A smile adorned her face. 
Alice and Neil have been loving friends for several months now. She fell in love with him. And, she felt like she knew his soul as no one else. She felt that this could be ''the day'' she had been waiting for months, and these months resembeled years.


----------



## bdcharles

w.riter said:


> Hi bd,
> 
> Could this be promissing?:
> 
> The both felt as though it could have been a great day for them.''We might go hiking for a while, honey?'' Neal ended a phone call. On the other side was the thoughtful Alice. She just answered with a ''yes'' to Neils proposal to go hiking.
> ''Is he going to propose to me up in the hills and vineyards?'' thought Alice. A smile adorned her face.
> Alice and Neil have been loving friends for several months now. She fell in love with him. And, she felt like she knew his soul as no one else. She felt that this could be ''the day'' she had been waiting for months which resembeled years.




Well, one of the key tricks of fiction is to make the story _real _for readers, rather than the way you might retell the incident to a friend. One way to do this is to in effect make us readers _become _a character. For instance, let's be Alice here. We perceive, with a few very minor scene setting exceptions, only what she does, think in the way she thinks, and cannot know things she doesn't. Sticking with the original events - the walk, the holding of hands, the brief pause, and only those things, let's try it. Here's the original:



> Exchanging  kisses, holding each other by the hand and lovingly stopping here and  there, Neil and Alice were taking their time while making their way up  the Big Mouth Mountain. They felt as if nothing could stop them; the  source of their strength was in their solitude.



So first, break it down. What are the events? The kiss, the holding hands, the brief pauses in their walk, the walk itself. What are the props? The mountain, maybe a little nearby scenery. Who are the actors? Neil and Alice.

Now let's go a bit deeper. What kind of person is Alice? What about Neil? What are their histories and personalities. Let's make Alice nice and gentle and Neil a bit dark and controlling (not sure why, but let's do that). We know Neil is a stockbroker so we can put that in somewhere - but carefully, subtly, so the moment doesn't become about his work - unless we want it to.

Let's not be afraid of detail. If you want to highlight something, metaphors are a good way to do that though of course they must be relatable and comprehensible to your readership. Let's think about pace - their walk is slow and langorous so so must our writing be, which means we can take a little more time to depict their environs. Their environs will serve three purposes - one: to put some brakes on the narrative and slow their walk, to enrih their world, and to provide some props with which they can interact in a way that either shows character or some notable story element (perhaps one in the future). All this must be done without the reader cottoning on. We must be the author, the authority, the one in control.




> Neil's warm mouth brushed Alice's cheek, soft and powerful like the stroke of a lion against its cub, and she thought to herself how lucky she was, to have caught the eye of this successful stockbroker, this fearless skydiver, this community pillar with his large social following and his hair of flowing obsidian. Something in her fluttered and she carressed his arm.
> 
> Suddenly he stopped, and squatted, plucking something from a green gap between two sharp rocks of the sort that proliferated these lower slopes of Big Mouth Mountain.
> 
> "A flower - a bluebonnet, if I'm not mistaken," he said, taking her hand and pressing it down into her palm. "For you."
> 
> Just her - and him. The solutide, the blue sky above, dotted with wheeling birds - all of it was purest heaven.



So there I have tried to keep the original events at an appropraite speed, adding nothing new but going into greater detail for each one. I've tried to show things through Alice's filter of perception. You want Alice to be thoughtful, so - _Alikazam_! - I gave her some thoughts. I've tried to depict Neil as a certain type of person, with a little of his history but not too much, and I added some little bits of scenery and interior monologue that is supposed to (can't say if it does or not) somehow illustrate their relationship; he is a powerful lion or a sharp rock, she is a little bluebonnet, and above them birds wheel. Because: why would birds wheel? They're a bit of a symbol of doom aren't they, as if something has died down there, so it is supposed to kind of introduce a little bit of uncertainty - without stating it outright but via the medium of scenery. And I chose these things not randomly but to highlight precisely this stuff  (though of course they have to be relevant; I wouldn't actually put a  lion nearby because that would be pretty daft, right?) Yet nowhere have I mentioned anything about how they should feel. I have tried to simply create the conditions that will make the readers feel it.

Hope this helps.


----------



## w.riter

_Neil's warm mouth brushed Alice's cheek, soft and powerful like the stroke of a lion against its cub, and she thought to herself how lucky she was, to have caught the eye of this successful stockbroker, this fearless skydiver, this community pillar with his large social following and his hair of flowing obsidian. Something in her fluttered and she carressed his arm. 

Suddenly he stopped, and squatted, plucking something from a green gap between two sharp rocks of the sort that proliferated these lower slopes of Big Mouth Mountain.

"A flower - a bluebonnet, if I'm not mistaken," he said, taking her hand and pressing it down into her palm. "For you."

__Just her - and him. The solutide, the blue sky above, dotted with wheeling birds - all of it was purest heaven.
_
Wonderful, bd, thanks.

It goes to show just how far I am from being a better writer.


----------



## bdcharles

You'll get there. It takes time, and practise, and being - in my case at least - pitilessly honest with myself about what works. Also what really helps, again for me, is taking a genuine delight in language, in trying to create joy, or horror, maybe ecstasy, or a pastoral idyll, or the shattered remains or a post-plague society, or even a crippling sadness just using words. It's like playing God.


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## w.riter

bdcharles said:


> You'll get there. It takes time, and practise, and being - in my case at least - pitilessly honest with myself about what works. Also what really helps, again for me, is taking a genuine delight in language, in trying to create joy, or horror, maybe ecstasy, or a pastoral idyll, or the shattered remains or a post-plague society, or even a crippling sadness just using words.



What would you say about this one, I have tried to depict the characters:

She pressed the phone dialing buttons as if she hated the phone. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer called her husband, and give him some of his medicine. This was the eight, or eight night - she could not tell  - really, that he had not not returned her call. 
No matter how much she was angry at her husband, she was not able to forget their first kiss: it happened at a disco. After spotting each other's loneliness, both of them could feel the desire to start talking to each other. He took the first step, and approached her. No matter how hard he wanted to talk to her, the music was too loud. After a few minutes of his carelessness as regards the loudness, he desired to exchange a few sensual words with her. ''How are you?'' asked he genuinly interested. His answer remained unanswered; all that she expected was the kiss. He was able to feel it. He suddenly moved his impatient lips towards hers and offered his impatience to her. She accepted his impatience, kissed him, and felt like the queen of the night...


----------



## Harper J. Cole

w.riter said:


> What would you say about this one, I have tried to depict the characters:
> 
> She pressed the phone dialing buttons as if she hated the phone. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer called her husband and give him some of his medicine. This was the eight, or night night - she could not tell  - really, that he didn't return her call.
> No matter how much she was angry at her husband, she was not able to forget their first kiss: it happened at a disco. The both of them wanted to talk to each other. He took the first step, and approached her. No matter how hard he wanted to talk to her, the music was too loud. So, after a few minutes of his carelessness, he desired to exchange a few sensual words with her. Then he suddenly moved his impatient lips towards hers and offered her his kiss. She accepted the kiss, and felt like the queen of the night.



It's important to keep consistent with whose perspective it is. Here, we're following the wife's perspective as we go into a flashback - this flashback should also be from her perspective, as she is the one remembering it. But phrases like "he wanted", "he desired", "his impatient lips" are instead showing us the husband's perspective.


----------



## bdcharles

w.riter said:


> What would you say about this one, I have tried to depict the characters:
> 
> She pressed the phone dialing buttons as if she hated the phone. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer called her husband and give him some of his medicine. This was the eight, or night night - she could not tell  - really, that he didn't return her call.
> No matter how much she was angry at her husband, she was not able to forget their first kiss: it happened at a disco. The both of them wanted to talk to each other. He took the first step, and approached her. No matter how hard he wanted to talk to her, the music was too loud. So, after a few minutes of his carelessness, he desired to exchange a few sensual words with her. Then he suddenly moved his impatient lips towards hers and offered her his kiss. She accepted the kiss, and felt like the queen of the night.



The thing is that alot of this is exposition - backstory, infodumping. It's not bad info (coupla typos) but it takes us out of the moment, and if readers are to feel fully invested in this scene, it helps to have invested in the moment being remembered. That means not just recapping it but quite possibly writing an earlier scene in which it happens. It's a bit like the difference between hearing about someone's problems when you've just met them, versus hearing about them having gone through them with the person.


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## w.riter

Thanks bdcharles and HC! I know that with the help of both of you I'm a step closer to being a good writing


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## w.riter

deleted post


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## w.riter

HarperCole said:


> It's important to keep consistent with whose perspective it is. Here, we're following the wife's perspective as we go into a flashback - this flashback should also be from her perspective, as she is the one remembering it. But phrases like "he wanted", "he desired", "his impatient lips" are instead showing us the husband's perspective.



HC, is this any better?

_She pressed the phone dialing buttons as if she hated the phone. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer called her husband and give him some of his medicine. This was the eight, or night night - she could not tell - really, that he didn't return her call. 
No matter how much she was angry at her husband, she was not able to forget their first kiss: it happened at a disco. Both of them wanted to talk to each other. She could tell that it was him who wanted to take the first step, and approach her. ''Maybe he's put off by the loud music'' she thought. She got butterflies in her belly as she finally saw him approaching her; she could tell that he was carefull enough so as not to get in the way of the dancers at the dancefloor. Her patience finally payed off; he came to her after a few minutes of their carelessness and sweet nothings regarding the loud music. She desired to exchange a few sensual words with him. Simultaneously, he suddenly moved his impatient lips towards hers and offered her his kiss. She accepted the kiss, and felt like the queen of the night._


----------



## Darkkin

The formatting on this runs together.  And as a life long genre junkie I'm going to be blunt, have you taken time to sit down and read published work within this genre?  Romance gets a bad rap, but a fair amount of it is better written than a lot standard fiction.  The structure can benefit new writers.  This is all tell and absolutely no show.  You are telling the reader this is what happened and the reader ends up bored within a paragraph.  Take some time to compare and contrast published works to your style...Reverse engineering on critique, if you will.  You want to know how writing works, you need to take it apart and work on you basics first.  It is how Carthage came to challenge Rome. 

Lay foundations, set limits, say 500 word to tell a story.  Hone the tools you have and practice with those you struggle with.  Bring the reader along for the ride.  Don't give them a summary.  This is where analysing current styles will help.

 And please stop thread bumping.  Three simultaneous posts is not okay.   Take time with your revisions and allow a little time for other member to respond.  If you need to reply to several responses, use the multiquote feature.


----------



## Harper J. Cole

w.riter said:


> HC, is this any better?
> 
> _She pressed the phone dialing buttons as if she hated the phone. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer called her husband and give him some of his medicine. This was the eight, or night night - she could not tell - really, that he didn't return her call.
> No matter how much she was angry at her husband, she was not able to forget their first kiss: it happened at a disco. Both of them wanted to talk to each other. She could tell that it was him who wanted to take the first step, and approach her. ''Maybe he's put off by the loud music'' she thought. She got butterflies in her belly as she finally saw him approaching her; she could tell that he was carefull enough so as not to get in the way of the dancers at the dancefloor. Her patience finally payed off; he came to her after a few minutes of their carelessness and sweet nothings regarding the loud music. She desired to exchange a few sensual words with him. Simultaneously, he suddenly moved his impatient lips towards hers and offered her his kiss. She accepted the kiss, and felt like the queen of the night._



Yes, that's the right sort of idea ... I'd suggest now trying to flesh out the characters a bit more. Perhaps some more build-up before they hook up? The majority of relationships aren't love at first sight, after all.

HC


----------



## w.riter

HarperCole said:


> Yes, that's the right sort of idea ... I'd suggest now trying to flesh out the characters a bit more. Perhaps some more build-up before they hook up? The majority of relationships aren't love at first sight, after all.
> 
> HC



Thank you HC ! I wrote it as a stream od consciousness...


----------



## Penless

Ptolemy said:


> First off, you can't "taste" a smell, you can smell a smell,



I smell trouble brewing here. This should be good! 

Hold on, let me grab some Skittles... there's nothing quite like the taste of rainbow while reading critiques.


----------



## w.riter

This was the eight, or ninth night that John didn't return her call.

She was pressing the phone dialing buttons so vigorously that it hurt. She wanted to call this forgetfull, irresponsible womanizer, called her husband, and give him some of his medicine. 

Yet, on second thought, she was not able to hold grudge on him.

''You are beautiful.'' he told her as they first met. 

How is a woman of average looks to forget this?

''Those were the days,'' she went to the kitchen wandering if she was going to pour herself some whiskey or cherry. She decided that she was going for the cherry. ''For the good old times'' she cheered and winced as the cherry burned a path down her raw throath.

''And now? Nowhere to go, nothing to do...'' The sharp taste caused even greater loneliness.

She once again headed for the phone, this time firmly deciding that she was going to call him. ''No, he isn't worth it.'' she put the phone receiver down again, and set on the sofa. 

She decided that she was going to feel good. She poured herself some more cherry and turned the TV on.

Breaking news!

''A man has jumped down the fifth floor of a building...!, she listened the slow voice of the TV reporter. She sipped the cherry.

''Who is that man? What was going through his head the minute he decided to take his own life?'' thought she. 

The reporter answered her question in a moment:

''...The police says that the name of the suicidal man is John Jones. They have tried to talk him out of taking his own life. Apparently, they were unsuccessful. The only thing the person said before jumping was, and we we cite: ''Tell Cherry I'm sorry. I don't deserve her!'' We ask anyone by the man of Cherry to come to the fifth precinct and identify...'' 

Cherry turned off the TV. Her alcohol numbed fingers slipped letting the cherry glass shatter on the floor. She could not but to again begin to think of the good times the deceised John and she shared.

''I'm not ready to go to the police yet'' thought she agitated, restraining every atom in her body from getting her up from that sofa. The cherry spoke: no way, it couldn't be... No, there were hundreds of John Joneses in this big town.

''I have to be honest with myself'' decided Cherry. She got up and took the keys to the house. She locked the door and left the house passing by her garden and picking a red rose. The thorns did their thing: she winced, and warm red blood ran down the stem_._ ''Never mind,'' she thought ''Real love is a piercing thing.'' A red rose was a flower John gave her on their first date. 

Cherry sat in her car. She got thoughtful again and was not able to start the engine. Her emotions were tearing her apart. 

''No, I'm not able to go to the police, and than to the hospital. I am not able to face my past and my future. It seems to me that I'm only able to stay in this car. Now.'' Her pierced fingers bled.

She relaxed and slumped her head on the wheel. In a matter of moments, she fell asleep. She dreamt.


----------



## Penless

w.riter said:


> A Try At Showing:
> 
> _This was the eight__ eighth__, or night __ninth night__ - Cherry could not tell - __really__,__that John didn't return her call. *Why couldn't she tell? do we need this sentence?
> 
> She pressed __the phone dialing buttons __as if she hated the phon__e__. She wanted to call this forgetfull_ _forgetful__, irresponsible womanizer, called her husband, and give him some of his medicine. __*I think you should try to use a more visually stimulating word rather than 'pressed' and do away with the simile. __
> 
> Yet, she was not that able to hold that grudge on him,__o__n__ second thought. __*The grammar here is confusing. Is English not your native language? Your writing style reminds me of a Chinese classmate's English.
> __
> ''You are beautiful.'' he told her as they first met.
> 
> How is a woman of average looks to forget this?
> 
> ''Those were the says__days__,'' she approached the kitchen wandering  __wondering __if she was going to pour herself some whisky __whiskey __or cherry. She decided that she __was __going for the cherry. ''For the good old times__,__'' she cheered and poured the contents down her sensitive throath __throat. __*You are telling us her throat is sensitive. You could instead show, by saying something like 'she winced as the cherry burned a path down her raw throat__
> 
> ''And now? Nowhere to go, nothing to do...'' The sharp taste caused even greater loneliness.
> 
> She once again headed for the phone, this time firmly deciding that she was going to call him. ''No, he isn't worth it.'' she put the phone receiver down again, and set__sat__ on the sofa.
> 
> She decided that she was going to feel good. She poured her__ herself__ some more cherry and turned the TV on.
> 
> Breaking news!
> 
> ''A man has jumped down the fifth floor of a building...!, she listened__to __the slow voice of the TV reporter. She sipped the cherry. __''Who is that man? What was going through his head the minute he decided to take his own life? thought she. __*why not 'she thought'? thought she is archaic. it doesn't match the modern setting. __
> 
> The reporter answered to her question in a moment:__**I *__*'m going to stop correcting grammatical and spelling errors here. they're too frequent. I recommend getting an addon for your browser or word processor which highlights suspected grammar errors. They distract from the flow of the work and break the reader's immersion in the scene.*__
> 
> ''...The police says that the name of the suicidal man is John Jones. They have tried to talk him out of taking his own life. Apparently, they were unsuccessful. The only thing the person said before jumping of the building was, and we we cite: ''Tell Cherry I'm sorry. I don't deserve her!'' We ask anyone by the man of Cherry to come to the fifth precinct and identify...''
> 
> Cherry turned off the TV. The cherry glass in her hand fell to the floor.__She was in an inebriated shock__. She could not but to again begin to think of the good times the deceised John and she shared. This is telling again. We already know she's been drinking, it's somewhat superfluous. if you feel it's important to highlight that fact, show us; 'her alcohol numbed fingers slipped, letting the cherry glass to shatter on the floor'
> 
> ''I'm not ready to go to the police yet'' thought she agitated, res raining every atom in her body from getting her up from that sofa. The cherry did its thing: she knew better; how many John Joneses were there in that big town they lived in? The town consisted of more than one hundred people, after all.  'She knew better' is telling. Use some interal monolog. "No way, it couldn't be... No, there were hundreds of John Joneses in this big town."
> 
> ''I have to be honest with myself'' decided she, getting up, and taking the keys to the house. She locked the door and left the house passing by her garden and picking a red rose. The thorns did their thing: some of her fingers got pierced. ''Never mind,'' she thought ''Real love is a piercing thing.'' A red rose was a flower John gave her on their first date. The key difference between 'showing' and 'telling' is that in showing, you involve the senses. 'Some of her fingers got piereced' does not involve any senses. 'she winced, and warm red blood ran down the stem.' rewriting it like this would involve the sight sense, and a bit of touch.
> 
> Cherry sat in her car. She got thoughtful again and was not able to start the engine. Her emotions were tearing her apart.
> 
> ''No, I'm not able to go to the police, and than to the hospital. I am not able to face my past and my future. It seems to me that I'm only able to stay in this car. Now.'' Her pierced fingers bled.
> 
> She relaxed and put her weiryhead on the wheel. In a matter of moments, she fell asleep. She dreamt.Rather than use a bland adverb like 'put' use an emotive one like 'slumped' and then get rid of 'weary'. In general you want to express as much as you can with the verb and minimalize the use of modifying adjevtives and adverbs. __
> _



Blue = spelling mistake. 
Orange = showing not telling, and grammar errors. 
Red = my comments.

I think this is much improved over your first post. 

There are 3 things I recommend you work on:

1. Showing, not telling (by involving the reader's senses) 
2. Using more interesting main verbs (and thus needing fewer modifying adverbs and adjectives)
3. Grammar and punctuation (These are more important than you think.)


----------



## w.riter

Penless said:


> Blue = spelling mistake.
> Orange = showing not telling, and grammar errors.
> Red = my comments.
> 
> I think this is much improved over your first post.
> 
> There are 3 things I recommend you work on:
> 
> 1. Showing, not telling (by involving the reader's senses)
> 2. Using more interesting main verbs (and thus needing fewer modifying adverbs and adjectives)
> 3. Grammar and punctuation (These are more important than you think.)



Sorry P., what do you mean by your saying that this is much improved over my first post? Are you thereby refering to my first post in this thread?


----------



## w.riter

Without any sign of hesitation, he challenged his fingers to do the undressing. Vulnerable for his touch as she was, she let his toying with her garment continue. The sweet tenderness of her lips longed for his. Once the undressing was done, she was taken captive of his strong and experienced hands, carrying her to the bed. They kissed and fire was built; as soon as their Eden bodies touched the silken linen, it grew warmer.
They cheated the night all the way through. Early in the morning, just before daybreak, as all was done, only the birdcall accompanied their falling asleep.


----------



## H.Brown

w.riter said:


> Without any sign of hesitation, he challenged his fingers to do the undressing. Vulnerable for his touch as she was, she let his toying with her garment continue. The sweet tenderness of her lips longed for his. Once the undressing was done, she was taken captive of his strong and experienced hands, carrying her to the bed. They kissed and fire was built; as soon as their Eden bodies touched the silken linen, it grew warmer.
> They cheated the night all the way through. Early in the morning, just before daybreak, as all was done, only the birdcall accompanied their falling asleep.



Hey W.riter your writing is definatly improving as this thread goes along.  here is my critique of your last post:

"Vulnerable for his touch..." Why vulnerable this for me was a bit stilted to read and makes this extract seem a bit violent, is the lover a violent man, is she scared of him? If not I would find different word to use here.

Describe the undressing a little more for example: he challenged his fingers to unlace her boots as she shock with eager anticipation. His hands grasped her soft sweater as he lifted it over her head. Bending down he twisted the metal button of jeans until it popped open and then he slid them down revealing her legs to his eyes. Her sweet tender lips longed for his as she was taken captive in his strong experienced hands. 

This is how I would have written this same scene obviously I have had to make up the garments as I do not know what your character is wearing but can you see how much more depth is added to this section with giving your read a few more items of description?

Who is the narrative voice in this section is it the male, female or an outside omniscient narrator as I think it shifts about? 

Do you have anymore of this passage to give it context?

I hope that this helps.


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## w.riter

Thank you very much, H. ! 

I'm taking it step by step. I wrote this as a stream of consciousness, still not sure about the narrator. I'm expecting to give this more context, to make a story thicker as it were.

Always nice to hear a good critique


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## H.Brown

No worries  Is this a book you are writing?


----------



## w.riter

If there ever was a happy guy on this planet, Jonnie would be that one. 

''I love kissing her'' the thought appeared in his mind, as his fingertips ran like rain drops through April's hair.

''Come on, Jonnie,'' April's smile shined through the sunny day the both of them were enjoying, ''We'll go to my dad's. There you'll ask him.''

''I'm afraid of his 'No!' Jonnie's fingers abandoned her hair and found refuge in his jeans' pockets.

''You'll never know if you don't ask him, Jonnie!'' said April, lowering her head suddenly in desperation. Yet the advice she found in a song's lyrics lifted her spirits. She lifted her head and said: ''Never give up, Jonnie... My dad ain't such a bad person.''

Jonnie directed his eyes into hers and said: ''I forget - so too many times - just how often you're right.''

''There, you see... Things are never that dark...'' 

As they were approaching the car, their short fast strides were becoming faster. The Sun was immitating their speed and finally found refuge behind the hills. The night was closing in. They entered the car and chose the silence.

''It's five o'clock Jonnie!'' said April after five minutes of silent meditation. ''He's in the cabin. He always returns from his summer time hunting at this time.''

April's father, Jeremiah, was a rare animal. He led his life as unconventionally as possible. He was a passionate hunter, and would have chosen - if only he could - spending the remainder of his days hushed in a bed of grass waiting for the perfect deer. He was a trophy collector. A visitor to his home, to his cabin adorned with the trophies, and hidden deep in the woods of the Big Mouth Montain, would be left stuttering at Jeremiah's deep voiced question: ''Well, how do you like my home?''

And this was the thing that was pulling Jonnie into silence. ''How is a guy to live up to Jeremiah's standards? It's impossible. It's an extraordinary man.'' A whirlepool of these simple yet grueling thoughts raved in Jonnie's mind. Time and time again. 

''I can't do that, April... Your dad is ... well ... great.'' 

''I am going to keep in my mind your promise, Jonnie. The promise you gave me just ten minutes ago ... So start this frigging car and let's go get the big bear.'' she kissed him on his right cheek.

Jonnie was at loss for words. Stunned. Yet his hands and feet started the car's engine and they drove off in the direction of the already set Sun.

''Dad?'' purred April to her father over the cell phone. ''We're coming. Yes, Jonnie has decided to talk to you... Yes, he's got guts...'' giggled April. ''I told him just how sweet and considerate person you are... Did he buy it?'' April giggled some more. ''Yeah, he obviously did, his driving the car and his hands aren't shaking with fear. Right, Jonnie?'' Jonnie changed to lower gear.


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## H.Brown

Do all of your extracts add up to make a full story? Or are these just extracts that you keep writing? Just to give us all context as a the moment I keep getting confused as when you post I expect to see the next part in the story or at least a re-write of the previous piece that has been critiqued.


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## w.riter

H.Brown said:


> Do all of your extracts add up to make a full story? Or are these just extracts that you keep writing? Just to give us all context as a the moment I keep getting confused as when you post I expect to see the next part in the story or at least a re-write of the previous piece that has been critiqued.



Oh, I see... I'm expecting that the very last piece will be a complete story of about 600 words. Sorry to all the readers who might have been expecting a complete story by now.


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## H.Brown

w.riter said:


> Sorry to all the readers who might have been expecting a complete story by now.



I'm not expecting to see a complete story by now W, heck my own story isn't complete and I've been writing that for over a year now but thank you for clarifying this.


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## H.Brown

w.riter said:


> If there was ever a happy guy on this planet, Jonnie would be that guy.
> 
> ''I love kissing her'' The thought appeared in his mind, as his fingertips ran like rain drops through April's hair. ...as he ran his fingertips through April's hair.- Lose the raindrops as I feel that it takes away from the image rather than adding to it.
> 
> ''Come on, Jonnie,'' April's smile shined through the sunny day the both of them were enjoying, ''We'll go to my dad's. There you'll ask him." How does April's smile shine through a sunny day this imagery contrasts with each other. Also is he end of his sentence a statement or question?
> 
> ''I'm afraid of his 'No!' Jonnie's fingers abandoned her hair and found refuge in his jeans' pockets. "I'm afraid he'll say no." Is how I would have written this part, think of how people speak to you in real life and then translate that into your writing.
> 
> ''You'll never know if you don't ask him, Jonnie!'' said April, lowering her head suddenly in desperation. Yet the advice she found in a songs lyrics(what song lyrics? At the moment this has no frame of referance and is just waffle that confuses the reader.) lifted her spirits. She lifted her head and said: ''Never give up, Jonnie... My dad ain't such a bad person." The reader will expect to see the song lyrics or if it is a well known song you can just mention the title of the song. Always remember that your writing should paint a picture that the reader can see in their head if something is missing it leaves an incomplete picture. Why does Jonnie need to be told this?
> 
> Jonnie directed his eyes into hers and said: ''I forget - so too many times - just how often you're right." 'I would write this like: Jonnie looked directly into her eyes and said...
> 
> ''There, you see... Things are never that dark...'"Things are never how dark? You need to have something that they can judge the darkness by.
> 
> As they were approaching the car, their short fast strides were becoming faster.why? The Sun was immitating(how was it imitating?) their speed and finally found refuge behind the hills. The night was closing in. They entered the car and chose the silence. This whole sentence needs working on as it is confusing for the reader and interrupts any flow/pace that you have managed to create before.
> 
> ''It's five o'clock Jonnie!'' said April after five minutes of silent meditation. ''He's in the cabin. He always returns from his summer time hunting at this time.'Where are they now? Is it the same location? Has time jumped?
> 
> April's father, Jeremiah, was a rare animal. He led his life as unconventionally as possible. He was a passionate hunter, and would have chosen - if only he could - spending the remainder of his days hushed in a bed of grass waiting for the perfect deer. He was a trophy collector. A visitor to his home, to his cabin adorned with the trophies, and hidden deep in the woods of the Big Mouth Mountain, would be left stuttering at Jeremiah's deep voiced question: ''Well, how do you like my home?''
> 
> And this was the thing that was pulling Jonnie into silence. ''How is a guy to live up to Jeremiah's standards? It's impossible. It's He's (not its) an extraordinary man.'' A whirlpool of these simple yet gruelling thoughts raged in Jonnie's mind. Time and time again.
> 
> ''I can't do that, April... Your dad is ... well ... great.'' Can't do what?
> 
> ''I am going to keep in my mind your promise, Jonnie. The promise you gave me just ten minutes ago ... So start this frigging car and let's go get the big bear.'' she kissed him on his right cheek.
> 
> Jonnie was at a loss for words. Stunned. Yet his hands and feet started the car's engine and they drove off in the direction of the already set Sun.
> 
> ''Dad?'' purred April to her father over the cell phone. ''We're coming. Yes, Jonnie has decided to talk to you... Yes, he's got guts...'' giggled April. ''I told him just how sweet and considerate a person you are... Did he buy it?'' April giggled some more. ''Yeah, he obviously did, his he's driving the car and his hands aren't shaking with fear. "Right, Jonnie?'' Jonnie changed to lower gear.



So in this piece you leave the reader quite confused. Go back and look at  it again as you could give more information in this scene. Overall I think that this could be a great scene as it shows how Jonnie is struggling with a dilemma to do with his love's father which is a real thing that some men struggle with in reality. With more work this could be great.


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## w.riter

*Chapter 1*

If there was ever a happy guy on this planet, Jonnie would be that guy. 

''I love kissing her'' The thought appeared in his mind, as he ran his finger tips through April's hair.

''Come on, Jonnie,'' April's smile added sunshine to a nearing sunset, ''We'll go to my dad's. There you'll ask him."

''I'm afraid he'll say no.'' Jonnie's fingers abandoned her hair and found refuge in his jeans' pockets.

''You'll never know if you don't ask him, Jonnie!'' said April, lowering her head suddenly in desperation. She instantly remembered that she is Jonnie's anchor, so she lifted her head and said: ''Never give up, Jonnie... My dad ain't such a bad person. He only wants to get to know you. He just wants to know if you're a good hunter material.'' 

Jonnie just stood there. She kissed him on the lips, and stretched her arms towards the sky. ''You're sweetness is so attractive'' reacted Jonnie.

Then he looked directly in her eyes and said: ''I forget - so too many times - just how often you're right."

''There, you see... Things are never that gloomy... You'll always have me, Jonnie..."

As they were approaching the car, for no real reason their short fast strides were becoming faster. The Sun was immitating their speed. It was drawing and erasing shadows on the ground. It finally found refuge behind the hills. The couple entered the car and chose the silence.

''It's six pm, Jonnie!'' April raised her voice after five minutes of silent meditation in the motionless vehicle. ''He's in the cabin. He always returns from his summer time hunting at this time.''

April's father, Jeremiah, was a rare animal. He led his life as unconventionally as possible. He was a passionate hunter, and would have chosen - if only he could - spending the remainder of his days hushed in a bed of grass waiting for the perfect deer. He was a trophy collector. A visitor to his home, to his cabin adorned with the trophies, and hidden deep in the woods of the Big Mouth Mountain, would be left stuttering at Jeremiah's deep voiced question: ''Well, how do you like my home?''

And this was the thing that was pulling Jonnie into silence. ''How is a guy to live up to Jeremiah's standards? It's impossible. He's an extraordinary man.'' A whirlpool of these simple yet anguishing thoughts moved in Jonnie's mind. Time and time again. 

''I can't face him and ask him to be with you, April... Your dad is ... well ... grand.''

''I am going to keep in my mind your promise, Jonnie. The promise you gave me just ten minutes ago ... So start this frigging car and let's go get the big bear.'' she kissed him on his right cheek.

Jonnie was at a loss for words. Stunned. Yet his hands and feet started the car's engine and they drove off in the direction of the already set Sun.

As they were driving, April managed to get Jeremiah on the phone. 'Dad?'' purred April to her father over the cell phone. ''We're coming. Yes, Jonnie has decided to talk to you... Yes, he's got guts...'' giggled April. ''I told him just how sweet and considerate a man you are... Did he buy it?'' April giggled some more. ''Yeah, he obviously did,  he's driving the car and his hands aren't shaking with fear. 
Right, Jonnie?'' Jonnie changed to lower gear. 

''OK, see ya!'' April ended the little chat with her father, realizing that Jonnie drove the car to slow.

''Faster Jonnie, faster!'' April was encouraging him.

''Hey, I'm doing the best I can here...'' answered Jonnie. April was statisfied with his attitude. ''His voice tells me his spirits are gaining on determination.'' she thought. Besides her voice, her beautiful smile adorned her as well, giving her a certain erotic aura.

As they were driving, a little something ran through her mind. ''Dad is waiting for us. Why not stop the car and make out for a while...? Eh...?'' she thought.

''Jonnie, stop the car, won't you, baby...?'' purred April. Jonnie knew what was to follow, and he needed not be told twice. The car stopped by the road.

''Turn off the lights, baby...'' asked she, and it was done.

''I love you...'' said April. She unzipped her jeans, and threw them carelessly on the back seat. All she wore now was her thong and a pink T-shirt. She was shaking with passion.

''I know you love me'' answered Jonnie. His jeans were getting tighter as blood was flowing to the organ April was after.

Bestriding Jonnie's legs, she slowly moved to the driver's seat where Jonnie was. She started the rhythm. Jonnie followed. As she wore no bra, it was easy for Jonnie to access her hardened nipples and start sucking on them. She was moaning. She removed her Chanel no. 5 perfumed hair from his face and eyes in order to give her baby a greater meneuvre space... 

When all was said and done - in about a half an hour, or so - they continued the journey. It was sevenish.

---

Six-foot-nine Jeremiah had just prepared his famous bear stew as someone knocked at the door of his cabin. 

He abandoned his beloved spoon and headed for the door. The floor and even the walls were creeping under the weight of his steps. 

''It must be them!'' he thought. 

No sooner that he opened the door, April jumped with love and hugged her father's shoulders. ''Daddy-y-y!'' she cried out lovingly. 

''How was your trip?'' asked Jeremiah.

Now, Jonnie was to follow. 

''Well, sir. Swell, to be exact.'' April laughed.

''Sir, my name is Jonathan.'' Jonnie tried to introduce himself. In his mind, at this moment of time only Jeremiah and he existed. ''Jonathan Walker.'' continued Jonnie. ''I am your daughter's boyfriend. I am planning on making your daughter a happy woman. In fact, I am planning on marrying her.''

''What...?'' whispered April from behind her father's back, pleasantly surprized. 

Jonnie just realized that he had made a capital mistake.

''Well whatever you're planning on doing, you have to taste my bear stew first'' laughed Jeremiah as his large arm carelessly tapped Jonnie's shoulder.

Jonnie just stood there thinking of his mistake.

''Well, why are you just standing there...?! Come and eat.'' encouraged Jeremiah his future _son-in-law_. 

''Sir, you are a hunter?'' asked Jonnie with his mouth full of bear meat. He had not tasted anything like that before. The hard, sinewy meat gave him courage.

''Well, can't you tell!?'' asked Jeremiah pointing with his spoon at all the trophies. ''Some people collect stamps, I collect trophies'' laughed he. ''But I don't exchange anything. What's mine stays mine!''

This Jeremiah's remark caused Jonnie to stop chewing the hard meat. He turned his look at April. She smiled somewhat mysteriously.

''Dad,'' she gazed at her father. ''Why don't you play your guitar for us a bit when we're done eating?''

''Anything for you, my dear April!''

After the stew pot was emptied, April suggested that she would like to do the dishes. 

''You're so considerate, dear. Just like your late mother.'' Jeremiah got up, stretched, and went out of the cabin and to the porch for the guitar.

April used these moments to approach Jonnie and kiss him.

''You see, he's indeed a nice fellow. He'll come now and sing a sad song.''

Jeremiah returned with the guitar in his hands.

''You see, my friend,'' said he to Jonnie. ''I like playing my guitar. Now you are going to hear a song April's mother loved to listen. ''Falling leaves in fall.''

Everyone sat down. Jonnie and April waited for the father to adjust the strings. Than the song began.

''Falling leaves in fall,
What have I done wrong,
What have I done that is small,
Falling leaves in fall...

My darling is in the woods,
In the deep woods and creeks,
Dark are my moods,
Dark are my moods...''

Jonnie thought that he spotted a tear in Jeremiah's eyes.

''No, my children, it's no tear, it's just on the account of the smoke from the fireplace.''

April began to cry. Jonnie didn't know what to do. Just for a moment, he felt like an intruder. Like someone who does not belong there. 

The night was silent as can be, and they all began to prepare themselves for a good night's sleep. Their spirits were, if only for a moment, clensed.


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