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Thank you in advance to those who are reading this. I would really appreciate it if you could give me some constructive criticism. This is the beginning of my story, I've written quite a bit more. I just wanted to post this bit first, it's not as interesting though...so please bear with me. Thanks again! Enjoy.

An edited version of the beginning is in another post, scroll down to read it. Any suggestions are welcome.


wahmbulance More of chapter one on page 2. wahmbulance

The sun’s light shined through the lavender curtains and on to the face of a girl who slept soundly beneath the warmth of her covers. An annoying beep sounded from a digital alarm clock placed on top of a desk, next to a lamp and a picture of a boy and a girl. The girl’s hand flew down in aggravation when the beeping had continued for a full two minutes, the alarm fell silent. She turned her back to the window and pulled her covers over her head as she tried to fall back asleep. There was a faint knock at the door, but the girl chose to ignore it and pretended to be sleeping. The door eased open and her mother stepped into the room.

“Sam, wake up. Breakfast’s ready. I made your favorite, French toast and freshly squeezed orange juice!” beamed her mother as she walked towards her daughter and pulled the covers back. “Honey wake up.”
Sam made no movement, but allowed a moan to escape from her mouth.
“Fine, come whenever you want. But don’t be mad at me if your French toast is gone.”
“I’m coming, just 10 more minutes.” She moaned and brought the blanket over her head once again.

The door closed behind her mother and Sam stared up to her ceiling. She thought about the dream she had last night, and for once she could actually remember parts of it. The dream itself was simple, but the sheer complexity of it intrigued her. She didn’t know why she found the lake so intriguing in her dream; she didn’t feel the same in real life. But last night, there was something about the lake that had seemed out of order to her. Be it the stars, or the way the soundless waves made their way to her feet, she just simply couldn’t put her finger on it.

A sudden crash interrupted her train of thought, making her sit up with a start. Getting out of bed, she pulled a robe over her tank top and shorts and cracked the door open. She heard nothing, she saw nothing. The hallway was empty, all the doors closed and everything seemed normal. She walked towards the washroom, but stopped when she heard her father’s shrill voice.

“Cheryl, why do I always have to wait?” he asked irately.
“You’re the one that came into the kitchen late. I had breakfast ready around 7, if you had come then, or even a little later, it would be sitting right in front of you.” she replied calmly.
“Oh, so when I came a couple of minutes later, my breakfast gets put away?”
“That depends; do you want a cold breakfast? Or would you rather have it warm, which is what I was doing.”
“Don’t backtalk me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Well, you can just warm up your own breakfast now on. Feel free to make it for yourself as well.”
“Cheryl, you don’t mean that.” he said, but my mother heard nothing of it.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she looked at me and sighed. Not wanting to face my father while he was angry, I chose to go into the washroom to get ready. After taking a shower, I began to comb my auburn hair. It was no longer a bit below my ears, but it was now below my shoulders. Not wanting to get late, I pulled my hair into a high pony tail and headed down to the kitchen. I didn’t expect anyone to be in there, so when I saw my father, it got awkward really quickly.

My father and I don’t have a father-daughter bond the way most families do, instead we’re quite distant from one another. In fact, my father is distant from the whole family. He worked late nights, many times skipping dinner. My dad knew that it was his choice to stay after hours, nobody was forcing him to. He’d come home expecting food to be on the table and my mother to be fluttering around, waiting for him. But when that didn’t happen, he’d yell; not only at my mom, but at my brother and I as well. My mother, being as soft-spoken as she is, would only stutter a few words that were meant to pierce my dad with the force of a punch to the stomach before running upstairs into her bedroom.

As soon as I saw him sitting there, arm leaning against the back of the chair, his eyes piercing into mine, I knew that I had it coming. His mouth was in a thin line as he watched me walk over to the kitchen counter to get my breakfast. As I walked back to the table, I felt his eyes on me.

“Samantha, why are you so late for breakfast?” he asked coffee mug in hand.
“I didn’t know I was gonna take so long in the shower, I’m sorry.” I apologized making sure not to look away from his eyes.
“You were supposed to be here promptly at 7 o’clock.”
“I’m really sorry dad; I’ll try to be earlier tomorrow.”
“Try? You’ll try?” he questioned.
“No, I will be here on time tomorrow.” I assured.

“That’s more like it.” he said. “After you’re done eating your food, wash the dishes.” He stood up and leaned his head back as he finished his coffee. “Here, this mug too. And tell your mother that I’ll be at work late tonight.”

“Again..” I muttered.
“What did you say?” he asked, spinning around.
“I said I will. Have a nice day at work, dad.” I recovered.
“Yeah. Okay.” He spoke as he made his way to the front door.

I sat there, staring at my French toast drowned in thick maple syrup, until I heard my dad’s car pull out of the garage. After our stupid, pointless argument, I had lost my appetite. I stood up to wash my dishes, but my knee bumped into the cabinet door beneath the sink. Kneeling down to close the door, I saw that a huge bottle of rum was preventing the door from closing. Since I didn’t know anything about the alcoholic level of drinks, I decided to leave it at that. There was no use getting frustrated over my father’s drinking if he didn’t care about it himself. To him, drinking was his escape from reality. If he knew how to control himself, it would be fine; but since he doesn’t, he’s the reason conflicts in my house arise.

 
     
yoyokookie15
 
You lost me at the very first sentence. I've tried to write a fanfic when the beginning is simply the character waking up, and it's never seemed interesting enough for me. You have to push the reader into a story, not ease them in. (That's just my opinion. I know different people think strongly otherise.)
I've read great books (one of them being by favorite book. ever, twilight) that starts off kind of boring and gets better and better. If I had the time I would definitley read more.
     
I <3 U!
Yeah, I totally get what you mean. I dunno, I guess I should post other parts of my story. The thing is that I tend to skip around and find it hard to write sequentially sometimes. I thought I'd give this a shot. But thanks a bunch for your advice, I'm glad that I'm not the only one who thinks that. Lol.
 
     
yoyokookie15
 
Do you think it would be better if I just started from the part where she's looking up at her ceiling?
     
yoyokookie15
I enjoyed it, actually. I think you should proofread your writing better or get an editor. There were a few grammatical errors and awkward sentences in there which a new pair of eyes would catch quite easily. You have good characters. They maintain their characteristics throughout the piece and they really feel like actual people. Your writing flows well, but sometimes I got caught on a certain word or sentence which didn't sound right. Try reading your writing out loud, or get an editor, as I said before.
 
     

Edward Cullen is NOT attractive. Why the hell would I want a white-a**, controlling moron to be my boyfriend? I want a Hawaiian.
 
A constant beep sounded from an alarm clock on my nightstand, disrupting my sleep. My hand flew down in aggravation when the beeping had continued for a full two minutes. The alarm finally stopped beeping and I turned my back to the window, pulling the covers over my head. There was a faint knock at the door, but I chose to ignore it and pretended to be sleeping. The door eased open and my mother stepped into the room.

“Sam, wake up. Breakfast’s ready. I made your favorite; French toast and freshly squeezed orange juice!” beamed her mother as she walked towards her daughter, pulling the covers back. “Honey wake up.”

I made no movement, but moaned instead.

“Fine, come whenever you want. But don’t be mad at me if your French toast is gone.”
“I’m coming, just 10 more minutes.” I muttered and brought the blanket over my head once again.

The door closed behind my mother and I looked up to my ceiling. I thought about the dream I had last night, and for once I could actually remember parts of it. The dream itself was simple, but the sheer complexity of it intrigued me. I didn’t know why I found the lake so intriguing in my dream; I didn’t feel the same in real life. But last night, there was something about the lake that had seemed out of order to me. Be it the stars, or the way the soundless waves made their way to the shore, swiftly brushing my toes, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

A sudden crash interrupted my train of thought, making me sit up with a start. Getting out of bed, I pulled a robe over my gray tank top and blue shorts, cracking the door open. The hallway was empty, all the doors closed and everything seemed normal. I walked towards the washroom, but stopped when I heard my father’s shrill voice.

“Cheryl, why do I always have to wait?” he asked irately.
“You’re the one that came into the kitchen late. I had breakfast ready around 7, if you had come then, or even a little later, it would be sitting right in front of you.” she answered calmly.
“Oh, so when I came a couple of minutes later, my breakfast gets put away?”
“That depends; do you want a cold breakfast? Or would you rather have it warm, which is what I was doing.”
“Don’t backtalk me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Well, you can just warm up your own breakfast now on. Feel free to make it for yourself too.”
“Cheryl,” he said, but my mother heard nothing of it.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she looked at me and sighed. Not wanting to face my father while he was angry, I chose to go into the washroom to get ready. After taking a shower, I began to comb my auburn hair. It was no longer a bit below my ears, but it was now near my shoulders. Not wanting to be late, I pulled my hair into a high pony tail and headed down to the kitchen. I didn’t expect anyone to be in there, so when I saw my father, it got awkward really quickly.

My father and I don’t have a father-daughter bond the way most families do, instead we’re quite distant from one another. In fact, my father is distant from the whole family. He worked late nights, many times skipping dinner. My dad knew that it was his choice to stay after hours, nobody was forcing him to. He’d come home expecting food to be on the table and my mother to be fluttering around, waiting for him. But when that didn’t happen, he’d yell; not only at my mom, but at my brother and I as well. My mother, being as soft-spoken as she is, would only stutter a few words that were meant to pierce my dad with the force of a punch to the stomach before running upstairs into her bedroom.

As soon as I saw him sitting there, arm leaning against the back of the chair and his eyes piercing into mine, I knew that I had it coming. His mouth was in a thin line as he watched me walk over to the kitchen counter to get my breakfast. As I walked back to the table, I felt his eyes shooting into my back.

“Samantha, why are you so late for breakfast?” he asked, coffee mug in hand.
“I didn’t know I was gonna take so long in the shower, I’m sorry.” I apologized, making sure not to look away from his eyes.
“You were supposed to be here promptly at 7 o’clock.”
“I’m really sorry dad; I’ll try to be earlier tomorrow.”
“Try? You’ll try?” he questioned as his voice got a little louder.
“No, I will be here on time tomorrow.” I assured.
“That’s more like it.” he said. “After you’re done eating your food, wash the dishes.” He stood up and leaned his head back as he finished his coffee. “Here, this mug too. And tell your mother that I’ll be at work late tonight.”
“Again..” I muttered.
“What did you say?” he asked, spinning around.
“I said I will. Have a nice day at work, dad.” I recovered.
“Yeah. Okay.” He spoke as he made his way to the front door.

I sat there, staring at my French toast drowned in thick maple syrup, until I heard my dad’s car pull out of the garage. After our stupid, pointless argument, I had lost my appetite. I stood up to wash my dishes, but my knee bumped into the cabinet door beneath the sink. Kneeling down to close the door, I saw that a bottle of vodka was preventing the door from closing. Since I didn’t know anything about the alcoholic level of drinks, I decided to leave it at that. There was no use getting frustrated over my father’s drinking if he didn’t care about it himself. To him, drinking was his escape from reality. If he knew how to control himself, it would be fine; but since he doesn’t, he’s the reason conflicts in my house would arise.
     
yoyokookie15
I LOVED IT!!!! the characters feel real! the begining kept me interested! i loved it! a little grammatical errors but other than that i loved it!!!! KEEP WRITING!!!
 
     
 
"life-loving sweetheart"
I LOVED IT!!!! the characters feel real! the begining kept me interested! i loved it! a little grammatical errors but other than that i loved it!!!! KEEP WRITING!!!


Thanks a bunch. Do you mind telling me where the errors were? I read over it a couple of times but couldn't find it..probably since I'm the writer. Lol.
     
yoyokookie15
It was alright. I had to push myself to continue reading it though, which to me isn't a good sign. There didn't seem to be any grammatical errors. Or very few, if that.

One thing though: Who ever makes freshly squeezed orange juice? Haha. Sorry, I've just never heard anyone using it in real-life.

You did a good job of editing it, and the second version was more interesting, but try to make it more life like. That may be personal preference, though, and difference of writing style.
 
     
 
I thought the second beginning was a lot better. :3 I read the whole thing and I really liked it. The tension between the characters isn't overdone, and the characters are believable. the only thing i found that was weird was when you say "I didn't want to get late" it should be "be late"
blaugh It was uber awesome, otherwise
     
I <3 U!
"kaykaychanparamorefan"
I thought the second beginning was a lot better. :3 I read the whole thing and I really liked it. The tension between the characters isn't overdone, and the characters are believable. the only thing i found that was weird was when you say "I didn't want to get late" it should be "be late"
blaugh It was uber awesome, otherwise


Thanks, I'll definitely fix that.
 
     
yoyokookie15
 
"yoyokookie15"
"life-loving sweetheart"
I LOVED IT!!!! the characters feel real! the begining kept me interested! i loved it! a little grammatical errors but other than that i loved it!!!! KEEP WRITING!!!


Thanks a bunch. Do you mind telling me where the errors were? I read over it a couple of times but couldn't find it..probably since I'm the writer. Lol.


actually guess i was tired or something i thought i saw a few and there aren't any! which is great! pm me the rest of this or something i would love to read the rest! are you getting this published? cuz i think you should try to! that would rock!!!!
     
"life-loving sweetheart"
"yoyokookie15"
"life-loving sweetheart"
I LOVED IT!!!! the characters feel real! the begining kept me interested! i loved it! a little grammatical errors but other than that i loved it!!!! KEEP WRITING!!!


Thanks a bunch. Do you mind telling me where the errors were? I read over it a couple of times but couldn't find it..probably since I'm the writer. Lol.


actually guess i was tired or something i thought i saw a few and there aren't any! which is great! pm me the rest of this or something i would love to read the rest! are you getting this published? cuz i think you should try to! that would rock!!!!


Wow, thanks! Actually, I'm not. And as for the rest of the story, I'm filling in the gaps of the story line since I skipped around so much. Lol. I'll post the next piece when I'm done with it.
 
     
yoyokookie15
 
This doesn't feel like a story. It feels like you took a diary entry or a memory, embroidered it a little and posted it. I'm not compelled by stories about teenage girls, probably because I am one and I find little enough interest in my own life and definitely none in my friends'. I think the problem is that I haven't seen a fully conceptualized story. Once you've introduced a plot, I suppose it could be far better. Your punctuation could use some work; consider picking up Strunk and White.

Never start with someone waking up. Don't do it. This is beyond cliche. I don't think there are words to express how many amateur (and professional) writers have started this way and how humdrum such beginnings have become. If your character isn't waking up as a gigantic insect, you should find a more creative way to start your story.
     
Robespierre says: I'm visiting a friend at Les Invalides. Be back later.

http://i27.tinypic.com/282oodd.jpg

Panty Auction (Take a peek?)
"Finker"
This doesn't feel like a story. It feels like you took a diary entry or a memory, embroidered it a little and posted it. I'm not compelled by stories about teenage girls, probably because I am one and I find little enough interest in my own life and definitely none in my friends'. I think the problem is that I haven't seen a fully conceptualized story. Once you've introduced a plot, I suppose it could be far better. Your punctuation could use some work; consider picking up Strunk and White.

Never start with someone waking up. Don't do it. This is beyond cliche. I don't think there are words to express how many amateur (and professional) writers have started this way and how humdrum such beginnings have become. If your character isn't waking up as a gigantic insect, you should find a more creative way to start your story.


Okay, thanks. I'll try to brainstorm some more. And at this point it may not feel like a story because, as you mentioned, the plot isn't introduced yet. I guess it does have a diary feel to it, but I wanted people to relate to it. I didn't want to post later parts of the story because it'd be out of order. Thanks for your opinion though, I'll take it into consideration.
 
     
yoyokookie15
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