Every time someone doesn't read the first part of this post, Rick Santorum eats a kitten and your post may be frowned upon.Idea stolen from Critique Circle. The writer will post no more than the first 500-1000 words of their work (unless you desperately need to finish a sentence, I guess). If it's a script, the first four pages should suffice, since 1000 words is about four pages in most books. The reader is pretending to be an editor going through the slush pile, and will stop reading the excerpt if they lose interest. The reader will post to say if they stopped reading, why/ why not, and offer suggestions. The critique doesn't have to be detailed, but please at least offer some advice.
Every time someone doesn't follow the second part, Rick Santorum eats five kittens and your post has a 90% chance of being ignored.FRIENDLY REMINDER: As the title of the thread implies, if someone posted an excerpt before you, please critique it before posting your own. If you skip someone, you lose the right to whine if someone skips over you. People that have been skipped, feel free to post a polite reminder if you're getting concerned. Reading 1000 words and leaving a few comments shouldn't take too long. And look at it this way: if you critique it yourself, you don't risk waiting forever for someone else to do it for you (this thread takes occasional naps) and you don't have to hope the critiquer doesn't have an excerpt of their own to post right after. A SHORT NOTE: By hook we mean the first thing the reader sees of the story, not necessarily some sort of inciting incident. Your beginning can be slow and steady, but it still counts as the hook because readers can still be interested by something that moves slowly as long as something is there that gives the reader a reason to keep going. So if you have a prologue that meets or surpasses the word limit, don't stick your first chapter underneath it. DISCLAIMER: This isn't a hardcore critique thread, so don't try to milk a detailed critique for your first chapter. That's why we have the word limits. Just think of this as a preliminary screening process for serious problems so you can get started on making your first impressions sparkly and awesome.
edited 20th Aug '12 7:46:48 PM by SnowyFoxes
edited 27th Jul '12 10:58:44 AM by SnowyFoxes
edited 27th Jul '12 10:58:15 AM by Masterofchaos
edited 27th Jul '12 12:49:31 PM by SnowyFoxes
edited 27th Jul '12 1:02:19 PM by nrjxll
edited 27th Jul '12 1:15:51 PM by SnowyFoxes
edited 27th Jul '12 1:34:10 PM by SnowyFoxes
For graphs of passion and charts of stars...
edited 27th Jul '12 9:34:17 PM by SnowyFoxes
edited 27th Jul '12 9:37:27 PM by Aqueos
edited 28th Jul '12 8:00:18 AM by Elfhunter
Max finished cleaning up the mess in the living room, which had not taken him long. He looked at his phone again. It was an old model, one of those phones that served also as a wristwatch. He had never quite liked the newer models, anyway, and he hadn’t been planning on doing the surgery to install the “phone program” in his head. Not because he thought that companies were out to make killer cyborgs, but because the technology was still brand new, and he wanted to wait a while. Well, that, and having a phone in his head wasn’t exactly what an anonymous life needed. Heck, even if he wanted those things, he didn’t have the money to buy them, so he didn’t have any choice in the matter anyway. The message seemed urgent. He had answered anonymous messages and calls in the past, with varying results. He looked outside the window of his apartment. The streets were empty, and the area where his school was had always been empty, since it was a particularly isolated one. The message was clearly a death threat, and if they knew his number, they probably knew his address. “So there’s your plan, Max”, he thought to himself. “Go out, in the middle of the night, to a location somebody with intentions to kill you told you to go. Not to mention, it’s your creepy High School, an isolated area where you can’t call for help. Not to mention, what kind of help would you expect? Cops are out of the question. Shit, if you go, you have a high chance of fucking the whole operation you worked so hard for.” He brushed aside those thoughts. The “operation”, if it could even be called that, had been going nowhere. This person clearly knew who he was, despite being as careful as possible. Not to mention, he wasn’t the only one who had been threatened. Those other people… They could mean his family, or old friends. It could mean anybody, and their lives depended upon him to go there. He had to make sure that this wasn’t a prank, or if the person who sent the message knew anything about him. He called the number. No one answered. “Great”, he thought bitterly. Maybe it was the late hour paranoia that always seemed to set in at night (living alone does so many wonders for the mind), but the message was unnerving him, more than it should have. There were so many ways this could go wrong. But, at the same time, so many things that could happen if he didn’t go to the school. He sighed. “I know I’m going to regret having ever done this.” This could be a prank, idiot. Some fucker trying to mess with you. “Nobody with intentions to ‘mess with me’ has my number. The few people who have it know about my situation. Not to mention, they’re mostly family.” He went to his room. It was messy, to say the least, with crumpled clothes all over the floor. Among them, he recognized his favorite blue jacket. He took it, figuring that it might help him blend in, thanks to the darkness outside. From his old desk, he took that old flashlight he never used. However, he knew he needed something else. The streets at this hour weren’t secure, especially if one planned to be moving among them by foot. He searched among his old trunk, hoping to find that switchblade his father had given him when he was fifteen. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side. He had probably lost it when he had moved. He stood up, thinking. Even with all the planning, he had never had the idea to pack a weapon, or at least something to defend himself with. Sure, he wasn’t the best of fighters, but surely he must have had something to fight with in case of an emergency… “Wait”, he thought to himself. “Of course. The bracers. I can’t even remember where my goddamn stuff is in my own house. Pretty swell, Max, pretty damn swell.” He searched inside his closet, where he found a small black box. Opening it, he found what he was looking for: a pair of Knuckle Bracers. He had bought them probably three years ago, when he was still practicing boxing. Sure, he hadn’t continued his practices, but he knew the essentials. If someone came at him with gun, though, he would probably end up dead or without money. With all that taken care of, he opened the door of his apartment in the Triage Building. Maybe if he hurried up, he could still find a bus that could take him closer to the Aeterna High School. Max Beckett went out into the streets. There was a cold breeze blowing. EDIT: Shoot, forgot that italics don't work the same way in here. Fixing that, right now. EDIT 2: Done, now it should be readable. Sorry.
edited 21st Aug '12 12:18:26 AM by Polarity
edited 20th Aug '12 8:17:02 AM by LongLiveHumour
For graphs of passion and charts of stars...