Variety Critique: From "Lodore" by Ranee` S. Clark

Surprise! That's right. What kind of monster would I be if I didn't subject myself to the same torture I ask of all of you? So I've decided to try and entice more critiques out of you guys by ripping something of my own up. I chose the opening pages of a finished first draft of "Lodore." It is a light-fantasy set in an imaginary kingdom in a time period that has the feel of the twenties. (One of those historical periods I really like.) It took over two years for me to complete this draft (I set it down numerous times), and I haven't looked back at it in a while (as will be obvious by the amount of red you see below). I wish I could look at all my work with a clean set of eyes, the way I was able to see these two pages.

Variety Critique: From "Word and Deed" by Rachel

Rachel, who has offered us up some truly entertaining short stories for Variety, has agreed to run the gautlet and let me critique her current WIP. The excerpt is the first chapter of "Word and Deed," which she hopes to be able to release later this year.

Word and Deed

By Rachel Rossano

Chapter One

“You are weak, Verdon. You kill like a woman!”

Variety Critique: From "Cobalt" by Kristin

One of my very best writing friends, Kristin, bravely offered up the first two chapters of her steampunk WIP, "Cobalt" for me to shred in front of all of you in an effort to educate the world. In it's FIRST draft -- (I don't even like to read my first drafts...), yet as always Kristin is a bad example since she is an excellent writer. :) "Cobalt" is no exception; although with some work, I did find some things to criticize her about. You can enjoy her absolute hilarity at her blog, Fairies and Pirates, etc.

CHAPTER 1

“Stay close, darling. This is no place to play.” Katerina's mother drew her close to her side. Wide-eyed, the little girl's gaze traveled up the rough plank walls of the multi-storied factory, framed from behind by gnarled branches which twisted slightly in the air despite the fact that there was no wind. Katerina pressed her hands to her ears. The staccato thock, thock, of woodcutters' axes, always a constant sound in the distance, had never sounded so close or loud. Helena tightened her arm around her daughter's shoulders and hurried them through the thick iron doors.