# Payback



## Boddaert (Sep 3, 2012)

*I was wondering if the first chapter of my latest novel would keep you reading?
All views appreciated - be as honest as you like ...
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*Chapter 1*

“Dawn is dead!”

The bald statement stunned Frank Collins.

Everything moved out of focus, as though he was seeing the room through a shifting mist.

Eyes screwed shut, he tried to stop the ringing in his ears.

The knife slipped from his fingers, crashing to the plate, causing every head in the café to turn in his direction.

Frank crushed the mobile phone against his ear, hoping the painful pressure would somehow negate the words he’d just heard.

It didn’t.

“What?” he managed around a mouthful of half-chewed bacon.

“I said, Dawn is dead. She committed suicide last night.”

Frank’s face paled and the world smashed back into his consciousness with a frightening intensity; Lady Gaga extolling the virtues of giving birth - the over-loud chinking of cutlery on china - footsteps passing the large café window.

His head was suddenly pounding with a blinding pain.

“Frank, you there?” the voice buzzed in his ear again - a voice from a past he thought long dead and gone.

Screwing his eyes shut, Frank tried to stop the memories from flooding his mind but the complex patterns of constantly changing colours and shapes were dredging up feelings of deep guilt - along with an even deeper anger.

_Dawn was dead!_

Frank thought he’d pushed the memories so deep they’d never return. But now they were back. Lingering just out of reach. Merging unbidden with those awful words.

_She committed suicide last night!_

“Frank?”

“Huh?”

“Frank, what’s the matter? You look terrible.”

Frank looked up, saw Karla staring back down at him, concern widening her eyes, the overhead lights glinting from her flame-coloured hair.

Holding up his hand, he spoke into the mobile, words quick, thick with anger.

“What the hell? How could you let that happen?” Taking a deep breath Frank lowered his voice, trying to keep his temper in check. “There must have been some sign that something was wrong. How could you let her do that to herself?”

Franks eyes stung, his fingers hurt from his tight grip on the mobile. He swapped it to his other ear.

A sharp sob was followed by the rustle of someone taking over the phone.

“Frank, this is Duncan,” a deep voice, laced with concern. “I understand that this has been a terrible shock for you, but upsetting Marcia like that isn’t on. It’s unreasonable. Can’t you forget your ego for once and appreciate just how hard this is for all of us?”

Frank’s rising temper almost got the better of him.

He wanted to scream at Marcia’s pompous ass of a husband. Tell him just what unreasonable was. How keeping him from his daughter all these years just might be considered bloody unreasonable by anyone with any sense of fairness.

How now it was too late for him to ever get to know her. Ever.

This was their fault. Not his.

Not his.

Instead, unconsciously flipping the knife back and forth on the plate with trembling fingers, he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Glancing across at Karla as she settled into the opposite seat, Frank blinked back tears.

“I’ll let you know when the funeral is. Goodbye Frank.”

He sat for a long moment, replaying the conversation back in his mind.

Then slipping the mobile back into his pocket, Frank thrust back his chair and stood up. Snatching his crash helmet from the seat, he left without a word.

Karla watched him roar off astride his Yamaha FJR, deep frowns creasing her forehead as she tried to work out what had just happened.

Sighing, she picked up the teacup and remains of the half eaten bacon roll, making her way towards the kitchen at the back of the café.

She would go and see him tonight, after she’d finished work. See if there was anything she could do. He’d obviously just received some bad news.

Some very bad news from the way he’d reacted.

* * *

Frank pulled the Yamaha on to its stand, tossing the ignitions keys back and forth between his hands as he strode up the overgrown path towards the low front door of his cottage.

It had been a long hot summer and the garden was a riot of colour, choked here and there with clumps of couch grass.

A tightness choked his own throat. He knew just how those flowers felt.

Banging the door behind him, Frank entered the cool interior, tossing his crash helmet on to a small side table as he stalked through to the kitchen.

Unlike his garden, the interior of Frank’s cottage was immaculate, with few personal knick-knacks. Whilst functional, it had a comfortable, if manly, feel about it. The small lounge was low ceilinged, with thick beams, and he’d got a few bruises before learning to walk with a slight stoop while using the room.

Picking up the kettle, Frank paused. Changing his mind he made his way back to the lounge, where he slumped in a leather chair, closing his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked and he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, cupping his face with his hands, staring at the floor.

He felt numb, disconnected, adrift in emotions he couldn’t cope with.

Muttering, “Fuck it,” Frank crossed to a cupboard alongside the open fireplace and tugged on the door.

It caught, as it always did when it wasn’t opened just the right way.

He swore again, nearly pulling the handle from the door in his impatience to open it. Grabbing a bottle of Vodka from the interior, he sat back on the couch, half filling a tumbler, holding it up, turning the glass back and forth, studying the clear liquid.

It had been a long time.

Taking a sip, Frank let the alcohol burn its way down his throat.

The first sip was quickly followed by another.

Then a series of large gulps.

* * *

Karla drove her Jeep off the track and on to the grass verge alongside Frank’s garden hedge. Easing herself from the driving seat, she stretched her back and sighed. It had been a long, hard day at the coffee shop and her feet were hurting like hell.

It was beginning to darken as dusk made itself felt. Frank’s bike was parked outside the garage, which was unusual, and the garden gate was ajar.

Karla closed the gate behind her to keep out the rabbits that would make short work of anything edible in his garden, and walked up the path, low heels clicking against the uneven concrete, smiling when she saw how untidy the flower beds were getting. Frank wasn’t one for gardening, preferring instead to get one of the villagers to do the work for him.

She knocked on the cottage door, then again when she got no response. Opening the door she stuck her head inside and called. The interior was cool and subdued, the small lobby dark.

“Frank,” she tried again.

Her voice rebounded off the white-painted, panelled walls.

Closing the door behind her, Karla walked through to the lounge and turned on the lights.

Frank lay slumped on the couch, an empty glass clutched in his hand, a bottle at his feet.

Karla stopped, disappointment clouding her face as she took in the scene. “Oh Frank,” she sighed, bending over to pick up the bottle.

* * *

Karla had first met Frank three years before when he’d turned up at her coffee shop one lunch-time looking for something to eat. The village had been abuzz with gossip for weeks on end about the man who’d bought the old cottage below Thatcher’s Wood, and now here he was, dressed in black leathers and big boots, a blue-tinted helmet cradled under one arm.

Karla smiled to herself, noting the way the tip of the man’s tongue ran back and forth over the small scar on his upper lip as he stood in line waiting to be served. His thinning brown hair was cut short. He wore a small stud in his left ear.

He seemed friendly but reserved, and Karla felt herself blush when she caught his blue eyes on her, wondering why she suddenly felt like a school-girl.

After he’d left it only took a few discreet questions for her to discover that his name was Frank Collins and that he ran his own motor-bike courier service.

It seemed that Frank liked Brambles Coffee Shop, because from that day forwards he appeared every lunchtime, staying to eat-in, instead of having a take-away sandwich or roll.

Or maybe - Karla thought now and then - it was the slim, red-headed owner that kept him coming back? She certainly hoped so.

During the following three years that first meeting had blossomed into a friendship, that although deep, had left Karla feeling dissatisfied. Frank didn’t, or couldn’t, take it to the next level - something that Karla wanted with a growing impatience.

* * *

Placing the bottle on the thick wooden mantelpiece, Karla shook Frank’s shoulder, catching the glass as it rolled from his hand.

“Frank. Hey, Frank.”

Leaning closer, she smelt the alcohol on his breath and saw the glint of his eyes between loosely closed lids. He groaned slightly, turning his head.

“Wha . . .?”

“Frank, it’s me. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Karla was a strong woman but it was a struggle to get Frank out of his clothes and stretched out on the couch.

His skin was firm, the muscles well defined. She liked running her finger-tips over it. She knew his body well, they’d made love on many occasions. Frank was a considerate lover, but he always seemed to hold a little something back, as though he were afraid to give himself completely.

She tucked a cover over him and sat down in one of the armchairs, head tilted, watching him sleep. He’d begun to snore quietly and she smiled, studying his craggy face, wondering what secrets lay hidden away within this man.

Karla knew she was falling in love; hell, _had_ fallen in love. What she didn’t know was how Frank felt, what emotions lay behind the words he used when they lay in bed together.

Picking up the glass and bottle, Karla made her way into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle as she passed. She’d ceased being amazed at how neat and tidy the cottage was a long time ago, but she couldn’t help admiring the sparkling work surfaces as she waited for the kettle to boil. It was almost a crime to dirty them by making herself a cup of coffee.

Back in the lounge, Karla sat down, placing the mug beside her on the arm of the chair. Frank hated when she did that, but he was asleep - more like unconscious if he’d drunk the bottle, as she suspected he had.

She had propped him on his side, one knee drawn up, his head resting on the back of one hand.

As she drank her coffee, Karla’s eyes caught the glint of something under the edge of the couch. Leaning forward, she retrieved an old photo album. It was small, holding two pictures to a page, the yellow plastic cover, dirty and worn. Idly turning the pages, Karla studied the photos inside.

They were all the same blond-haired girl, at different ages. Some had obviously been taken at birthday and Christmas parties.

As she reached the last page a letter slipped out on to her lap. It was written on lined notepaper, oblivious torn from a spiral notebook. Karla picked up the folded pages and placed them back inside the album, then hesitated, torn by curiosity about who this girl was and why Frank had so many photos of her.

Frank was close-mouthed about his past life, getting irritated if anyone probed too deeply. Karla hesitated, glancing up at him, making sure he was asleep before pulling the letter from the album again and smoothing it open.

The writing looked child-like, but the contents were anything but. Karla read, occasionally flicking her hair behind one ear as she bent over the pages. Finished, she carefully refolded the sheets, placing them back in the album and closing the cover.

It felt as though she were closing the cover on the life she’d hoped one day she would share with this man.

_How could he keep such a secret from her!_


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## Boddaert (Sep 3, 2012)

Oops, didn't realise the cover would come out so big. Sorry!

Boddaert


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## JackKnife (Sep 3, 2012)

> His head was suddenly pounding with a blinding pain.


If you took out 'with a blinding pain', I think you would still convey the idea well enough and it'd be less unwieldy.



> Can’t you forget your ego for once and appreciate just how hard this is for all of us?”



This might just be me, but I don't know how I feel about the word 'appreciate' here. I understand it means just what you think it does, but the more common meaning, at least here in Canada, is to be grateful for something, which doesn't seem to be appropriate for the situation.



> Frank pulled the Yamaha on to its stand,



onto*


> and he’d got a few bruises before learning to walk with a slight stoop while using the room.



gotten*


> Her voice rebounded off the white-painted, panelled walls.



*paneled

I think you're repeating names a bit too much. There are a lot of Franks  in this story, often one after the other, when a synonym would work  better for the sake of flow. I also feel you need to vary your sentences  a bit. Many of them start with the action:



> Picking up the kettle, Frank paused. Changing his mind he made his way  back to the lounge, where he slumped in a leather chair, closing his  eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger.



...which is fine, but starts to get repetitive and unwieldy after some time. Varying them by throwing the action more into the middle or end of the sentence can also smooth the flow out.

I'm also kinda questioning your line breaks. Line breaks usually break up scenes or actions or keep dialogue clear, but you seem to be using them every one or two sentences. Are... are you Chuck Palahniuk?

Lastly, I don't like the cover much. It looks very copy/paste-y, with rough edges around the rolls of money and knife. The bike chain background also looks fairly amateurish. If it's just a working cover, I guess it doesn't matter much, but if you ever want to go bigger with this story, I really feel you'd profit from having a more professionally designed one.

This all aside, it was a great read. I found it very easy to picture everything that was happening and empathize with your characters. You have a great narrative voice going on here. I'd keep reading.


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## Boddaert (Sep 3, 2012)

Hi JackKnife

Thank's for your insightful and detailed comments. They are much appreciated and I'll take them on board during the editing.

It makes a nice change to get some honest feedback, rather than friends saying, "Oh that's great!"

Regards

Boddaert


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## JackKnife (Sep 3, 2012)

It's easier to rip someone's work apart behind a screen... you don't have to face their upset head-on that way. 

Looking forward to the revisions if you decide to post them!


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## SamanthaMarie (Sep 3, 2012)

'oblivious torn from a spiral notebook' did you mean obviously? If not, what were you going for there? Other than that there were little things here and there but, like you said, you'll probably find them when you do the whole editing thing.


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## Boddaert (Sep 3, 2012)

Hi SamanthaMarie

Yep, those dreaded little typos always creep in no matter what you do. Get out you little devil, GET OUT!!

Regards
Boddaert


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## ~Ara~ (Sep 4, 2012)

Hey! I'm not sure about everyone else, this could be just me, but the line 'She committed suicide last night' doesn't really do much for me. I don't know, I think it sounds a bit... typical. I don't think a person would really say that if they were in this situation. Maybe a euphemism of some definition, or something just a bit different. 

Overall, it's pretty well written and has good tension. I really like the start, how you begin with the words 'Dawn is dead,' it left me wondering and wanting to find out what had happened. 

I am a beginner on this site, so what I'm saying could be bogus, it's just my opinion.


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## Boddaert (Sep 4, 2012)

Hi Ara

Thanks for your input. I'll think about the point you raised. You could well be right. It's difficult not having heard how people react at times like this personally.

Hey, just because you're new don't mean your observations aren't just as valid as other people's.

Once again thanks

Regards
Boddaert


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## ChicagoHeart (Sep 5, 2012)

Great opening scene! I was curious about the circumstances throughout. I particularly like the way you are revealing bits and pieces about your characters through their reactions rather than just descibing them right out. I would read more. 

One thing I noticed that wasnt mentioned: "Screwing his eyes shut." I've not heard this before but it did evoke sort of a painful way of closing your eyes very tightly and really did fit. However, you use it again shortly afterward, and I think you might want to come up with another discriptive. 
I look forwrd to reading more if you decide to post.

CH


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## Boddaert (Sep 5, 2012)

Hi ChicagoHeart (Great name by the way)

Thanks for taking the time to comment. I didn't realise that I'd used the same descriptor twice so closely - something I tend to do a lot and have to constantly watch out for.

Glad you enjoyed it. I have the next chapter ready but am reluctant to post it because I don't want to keep posting without reviewing someone else's work - something that I just haven't got time to do right now.

Anywise, I'll get right on your suggestion.

Regards
Boddaert


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## namesake (Sep 5, 2012)

I like the color of the book's cover. Yellow has a more powerful pull with people according to studies I read a long time ago, unlike red, or black. 

It got my attention too. It kept me reading, I just felt "cheated," like some people that have handed advice to me have said about my writing in the past when I was vague. Subcontext is nice, and I think it comes off abruptly and you don't know where it is going. Since this is a novel I might appreciate it more if it had a more solid ending. That is my only worry and qualm. Becareful and warry of using idioms as someone was indicating, might need to solidify that part a little more. I just don't know how, since it is probably something you have to consider and think over.


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## Kryptex (Sep 5, 2012)

The others are conveying their grammatical discoveries, improvements to be made, etcetera, so I'll just skip to this:

Overriding everything except the general plot, it's genius. I am not only left wanting to read more, I'd pay to do so. Incredibly intriguing, and leaves you with a wonder as to why the title is called _payback_, although it's not too hard to see why. 

Hints are left about his seperation, reservedness & drinking - all common factors in a result of a tragedy.

Very, very well thought out.


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## Boddaert (Sep 6, 2012)

Hi namesake and Kryptex

Thanks for your advice and comments. I'm guessing that as a first chapter it needs a little work but does engage the reader and pulls them in, which is great.

The novel is about people trading young girls for sex and how a father's discovery that his daughter was involved brings up old memories of his own rape while he was in jail. The resultant emotions send him on an anger fuelled journey that ends in tragedy.

But of course, as I get further into the novel all this could change.

Regards
Boddaert


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## hornet18 (Sep 16, 2012)

It was a little jarring to go from the point of view of Frank on the phone to Karla and then back to Frank again. Maybe the sentence breaks had something to do with it. Perhaps Karla could be introduced after Frank's phone conversation had ended. Just my two cents.

The story flowed nicely from then on. I'm sure this will be an interesting story with more bits revealed as the story develops. It does make the reader experience the situation the characters are in.


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## Boddaert (Sep 16, 2012)

Hi Hornet

Thanks for taking the time to read and comment on Payback.

I'll certainly have a look at your suggestion.

Regards
Boddaert


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## qwertyman (Sep 16, 2012)

The "ing" form of verbs, the present participle - two in the same sentence can be very irritating(!).

I had to stop reading; I felt a bout of tinnitus was imminent. 

Once it's pointed out it's easily fixed. Swap a few 'ings' for 'eds'. I also think it's a little wordy.  

'Frightening intensity' and 'blinding pain' and memories that 'flood' and 'screwing' eyes shut, may not be cliches but they are damn close I would look for alternative descriptions. 

Avoid 'suddenly' whenever possible.

 Still, early days yet.





Boddaert said:


> ...
> 
> Everything moved out of focus, as though he was seeing the room through a shifting mist.
> 
> ...



Good luck with it...qwerty


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## Boddaert (Sep 16, 2012)

Hi Qwertyman

Thank you for your most interesting comments.

Even now I am looking at your suggestions with a mind to improving (ment)  my draft.


Regards

Boddaert.


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## Justinian (Sep 21, 2012)

I feel that the short paragraphs are too short. I would recommend lengthening the paragraphs. Only in the beginning, though. Later, the paragraph length is fine


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## Boddaert (Sep 24, 2012)

Hi Justinian

Thank you for taking the time to read my chapter. Your observation is interesting and I'll certainly be taking a look at your suggestion.

Regards
Boddaert


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## Gordyman (Sep 27, 2012)

Hey, I'm no professional writing critic but from what I can see this is really good.


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## Boddaert (Sep 27, 2012)

Hi Gordyman

Thanks for your positive feedback. I'm about halfway through the novel now and know there'll be a lot of editing to do. Trying not to think about that right now.

Regards
Boddaert


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## stellar (Sep 27, 2012)

i got stuck on the cover, sorry man. here just toyed with it. its yours


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## Tonythetiger (Sep 27, 2012)

I think everything has been civered except the second line. Should that say bold statement instead of bald?


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## Boddaert (Sep 28, 2012)

Hi Stellar

Thank you so much for toying with my cover. Any improvement is much appreciated.

Regards
Boddaert


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## Boddaert (Sep 28, 2012)

Hi Tony

Bald can also mean "with no attempt to conceal" and this is the feeling I was trying to convey. But thanks for taking the time to read my work.

Regards
Boddaert


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## squidtender (Sep 28, 2012)

I think you've got something going here. Good stuff and a good direction. But, I think you have a love of purple prose and I'd like to steer you away from that. Also, I'm thinking the pacing of this story is meant to be fast and fun, but the very beginning where he receives the news that dawn is dead, you spend 241 words telling us his reaction. I think in this case (and if my assumption for the pacing is correct), brevity will be your friend. 
Because I came into this one late, I can't add much more then what the others have already pointed out. Keep up the good work and post more for us


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## Boddaert (Sep 29, 2012)

Hi Squidtender (such imaginative names on this forum )

Thanks for your interesting comments. I'll certainly take them on board during the editing phase.

Regards
Boddaert


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## mukesh (Jul 11, 2013)

Liked the way you have done character sketching.. would love to read more..just take care of the typos.


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## Kelson (Jul 30, 2013)

Okay Boddaert,

This is going to sound creepy but we really write a lot alike, _really._ I suggest you web search "Brilliance" by Kelson Hargis and you will see. What else creeps me out is we both have very similar spacing. I like the flow of Payback _a lot_. But I have been chided by eZine editors for the same thing. I adjusted all of my paragraphs, consolidating them. The only constructive feedback, I can offer is, I have to be honest and say, you should pick up the pace in the second half. Do something shocking or surprising. The story starts so well that as a reader, I expect more. I hope that makes sense. 

Stay in touch & I'll keep reading. 

Sincerely, 

Kelson


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## Lucifer (Aug 6, 2013)

what can i say that hasn't been said by the other critics? not much, It appears to be a pretty straight forward revenge story. to improve with story archs/twists watch "The Limey" or "Taken" or even the korean versions "The Man From Nowhere" or the god teir revenge flick "Oldboy" heh, now THAT's a story! but I digress, you need a little more than just your run of the mill "haggard old man with dark past on rampage" to keep my attention. I already have a "Frank" that is emotionally wrecked and his body count that is on par with the crusaders, "Frank Castle" aka "The Punisher" the MAX comics version is just, WOW. read "The Slavers" story arch it deals with the sex slave industry very gritty shizz my nizz. anywho the story itself was well written, solid structure, flowed well, could see what you wrote and understood what was inferred. keep writing!


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## distorter (Aug 24, 2013)

It's funny that Lucifer mentions "The Limey". That's precisely what I was think when I finished reading. Story flowed well. Imagery was pretty good. Needs more detail, though, IMO.


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## Boddaert (Aug 25, 2013)

Thanks for your comments guys and taking the time to read my submission.


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## midnightpoet (Aug 26, 2013)

When her voice rebounded off the walls, I kept getting an image of Kobe Bryant taking a rebound off the back board.  The sentence just didn't work for me.  Overall, I believe the piece just needed some adjustments as others have commented, otherwise a good read.


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## starchild (Aug 30, 2013)

You didn't give me any detail or anything that made the characters appeal to me. That's my criticism. Basically, the term 2D applies to characters that lack depth. I saw names, "Jack did this"...."Kyle did that"...., and while the plot is not that bad, the characters just didn't stick. I hope this helps. This is one thing that I'm definitely working to achieve.


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