"SeCrits" #1 (First 250 words)

First off, thank you SO MUCH to everyone who shared their work with us! If we had time to critique them all, we totally would. If yours wasn't chosen to be critiqued this time, then please feel free to submit to future "SeCrit" events (the next one is scheduled for February 12, 2013!). All entries from this first event will be deleted shortly.

So basically, when choosing which entry to critique, we read every single one that was submitted to us. Then, the person in charge of getting this post up simply picked the one that they thought they could make the most useful commentary on--both the positive and constructive type. There's not really anything scientific about it, and it's not a popularity contest or anything like that. Though, in the future, we do plan to give precedence to people who have participated in the comment section of previous SeCrit posts. You give critiques, you're more like to get them, savvy?

Okay, so without further ado, let's get on with it!

The brave, anonymous, awesome writer's first 250:

Title: GRIT OF BERTH AND STONE

Genre: YA Fantasy

Everything changes at midday. Grit clenched her fingers tightly around the hilt of her dagger as she stared at the ceiling above her straw-filled mat. Her dame, a wiry woman nearing forty, stood by the fireplace, one hand on her hip, the other using a hooked metal rod to replace the lid on the heavy, black cooking pot. A plan formed in Grit’s mind as she inhaled the fragrance of Dame Berth’s porridge. 

“You’ll miss your Branding if you lie there all day gawking at the ceiling,” Berth scowled just loudly enough for Grit to hear, but not so loudly as to wake the three younger children asleep on mats around the room.

Grit rolled onto her side and studied her bare arm. Fifteen perfect circles, starting at her shoulder and reaching nearly to her elbow in two offset rows, scarred her olive skin. Every year, on the anniversary of her birth, the branding rod etched each scar a little deeper before adding a new mark. Like all Threshan youth, Grit had been collecting these tokens of strength since the day she had achieved one year of life. Now, on the brink of adulthood, she determined to present a show of strength rarely seen among her people, to prove to herself as well as to her harsh dame that she, Grit of Berth and Stone, was beyond weakness, beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond control. 

“I’m getting up,” Grit growled.

She tossed aside her thin blanket and pulled her tunic over her messy head. 

And now, after several readthroughs, here are some thoughts:

Everything changes at midday. [This is a bit vague for an opening sentence, and it sort of pales in comparison when you get down to all the awesome fantasy-ish bits in the third paragraph. Could we make it more interesting? Can we somehow establish that this is an awesome, unique fantasy immediately, in this very first sentence? Also, the fact that it's present tense ("changes" instead of "changed") is strange.] Grit clenched her fingers tightly around the hilt of her dagger as she stared at the ceiling above her straw-filled mat ["above her straw-filled mat" isn't really necessary; ceilings are generally "above" things, yes? This is overwriting, however subtle]. Her dame, a wiry woman nearing forty, stood by the fireplace, one hand on her hip, the other using a hooked metal rod to replace the lid on the heavy, black cooking pot. A plan formed in Grit’s mind as she inhaled the fragrance of Dame Berth’s porridge. ["A plan..." This is vague, and, assuming it's referring to her plan to "prove herself" that you mention a little ways down, it's also unnecessary telling.]

“You’ll miss your Branding if you lie there all day gawking at the ceiling,” Berth scowled [you can't scowl words] just loudly enough for Grit to hear, but not so loudly as to wake the three younger children asleep on mats around the room.

Grit rolled onto her side and studied her bare arm. Fifteen perfect circles, starting at her shoulder and reaching nearly to her elbow in two offset rows, scarred her olive skin. Every year, on the anniversary of her birth, the branding rod etched each scar a little deeper before adding a new mark. [ah, see, this is where things start to get really interesting. Totally intrigued by these circles! I can visualize them, am a little grossed out by them, but more importantly, they have me asking questions about this world--questions that I'm eager to keep reading to find the answer to. You might consider moving this to the very beginning]. Like all Threshan youth, Grit had been collecting these tokens of strength since the day she had achieved one year of life. Now, on the brink of adulthood, she determined to present a show of strength ["determined to present a show of strength" feels a bit awkward. I think you might have been going for that lofty high fantasy voice, but I'm not sure it's quite working here] rarely seen among her people, to prove to herself as well as to her harsh dame that she, Grit of Berth and Stone, was beyond weakness, beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond control. [Okay, so on the one hand, love that she has a plan to be strong and to prove herself--strong female characters ftw! BUT, I'm a bit confused here. Because you just said that, "like all Threshan youth", she's spent her life collecting tokens of strength. So I was picturing an almost Spartan-like society of lots of warriors, yet this last sentence suggests this isn't the case? Also, is being "beyond control" really a sign of strength?]  

“I’m getting up,” Grit growled. [you  can growl words more than you can "scowl" them, perhaps, but don't be afraid of just a plain old "said". If you want to show Grit's irritation, body language that gives readers something to visualize (narrowed eyes, fists clenching her blanket, etc...) is almost always stronger]

She tossed aside her thin blanket and pulled her tunic over her messy head. [is her head messy (seems weird), or just her hair(ah, that makes visual sense)? Specificity is a writer's best friend.]


And there you have it! Now, despite the abundance of glowering orange font, would I keep reading? Almost definitely. Because I'm totally intrigued by those circles on Grit's arm, and I want to know more about this world. So, in essence, these first 250 have done their job for me--despite the fact that there's possibly some room for improvement among them. So, why all the nitpicking, then? Did I really have to go sentence by sentence and tear this poor writer's lovely work apart?

Well, here's the thing you should keep in mind: your first 250 words are a sort of microcosm for your manuscript as a whole. That's how agents/editors are looking at them. And if there's a single, awkward sentence, or even the slightest bit of vagueness here or there--then agents and editors are going to assume that it continues throughout the whole manuscript, whether it does or not (though at least in my critiquing experience, it does more often than not). And though I would keep reading despite a few rough spots in an opening page, an agent who has 500 unread queries in their inbox might be a little less enthusiastic to do so ;)

So, thoughts? Feel free to offer your critiquing suggestions in the comment box, whether you agree or disagree with things I said, and also tell us whether or not this helped you in any way (we'd love to know if it did!). And give a round of applause to this awesome writer who shared their work with us :)