SeCrit #9

Hi lovelies!

Today we're taking a look at an entry that caught me from the first line. It references death, and I'm a sucker for death/murder/mayhem in novels. So here goes!

The first time I almost died happened on my sixteenth birthday.

The second might possibly be today.

At least it would be a decent day to die. Last time, it rained.

This time, with dawn yet to arrive, not a cloud obscured the sky. The wind sang through the trees surrounding the flat, bare stretch of land I knelt on. Sharp stones stabbed through my jeans, pricked my skin. Now, I remained calm, free of confusion and fear—well, I shouldn't bother with lying. Calm did not apply when the fear pulsing in my stomach made me feel a minute away from puking, but at least I'd skipped breakfast. 

I stared at a patch of dry weeds, their brittle ends swaying lightly. Such a normal sight, even here in Gaia, home of myth, legends, and secrets older than your grandmother. Home. This was home, even if I'd been forced to return from Earth, sequestered by the pride for a week, unknowing of their reasons for wanting me back.

Screw that. 

It wasn't reasons; try reason. Because Gaia residents didn't stay in the human world for two-years, which I did. Meaning they sure as hell didn't receive a homecoming, a warm welcome from the dragons, which I didn't. The most damning of all for me, though, boiled down to being acknowledged as one thing, and one thing only.

Human. 

I might look it, sound it—smell it? I sniffed my shoulder—but no mythical creature could be robbed of their true identity. 

Critique:

The first time I almost died happened on my sixteenth birthday. [So something about this first line sounds a little awkward. The concept is cool, but the way it's worded needs to be adjusted. It could be as simple as "The first time I almost died was on my sixteenth birthday." Or you could tell us what your character was doing on that day, like "The first time I almost died I was knitting a sweater on my sixteen birthday." etc.] 

The second might possibly be today. 

At least it would be a decent day to die. Last time, it rained. [Why would it have been a crappy to die on a rainy day? Does your character not like rainy days? We don't know him/her enough yet or this world to understand why that would suck. Was he/she outside when he/she almost died, and that's why it would suck? More detail, or possible change that detail.]

This time, with dawn yet to arrive, not a cloud obscured the sky. The wind sang through the trees surrounding the flat, bare stretch of land I knelt on. Sharp stones stabbed through my jeans, pricked my skin. Now, I remained calm, free of confusion and fear—well, I shouldn't bother with lying [I'm a little confused. Is...your character lying about being "free of confusion and fear"? We don't know him/her well enough yet to understand if he/she is being facetious, or if he/she is genuinely afraid and screwing with us. How about adding in some physical action or internal dialogue that will help us out. If he/she takes a deep breath, shoves her shaking hands in her pocket, or swallows down the sick feeling crawling up her throat, it'll help us understand if she really is scared or not.]. Calm did not apply when the fear pulsing in my stomach made me feel a minute away from puking, but at least I'd skipped breakfast. [Ah, there is it. So she really is scared. I suggest cutting out the "telling" part here. You don't actually have to tell us she's fearful for us to get the point. Giving your reader a physical action or a blip of internal dialogue will help us come to our own conclusions about what's going on here.]

I stared at a patch of dry weeds, their brittle ends swaying lightly. Such a normal sight, even here in Gaia, home of myth, legends, and secrets older than your grandmother. Home. This was home, even if I'd been forced to return from Earth, sequestered by the pride for a week, unknowing of their reasons for wanting me back.

Screw that. 

It wasn't reasons; try reason. Because Gaia residents didn't stay in the human world for two-years, which I did. Meaning they sure as hell didn't receive a homecoming, a warm welcome from the dragons, which I didn't. The most damning of all for me, though, boiled down to being acknowledged as one thing, and one thing only. [Okay, so I just got pulled out of this story a little bit. I'm pretty confused on all this backstory and the addition of a different planet, and dragons, and a pride of some sort? We don't need that information now. The only purpose of these first 250 words is to pull us into the story and keep us there. We don't need all of this world-building information yet.   If you start out this story with how today might be the day this character almost dies, then we need THAT information. We need some action. What is trying to kill her? Is she running from something? You don't even have to fully explain what it is if it's a weird creature of some sort. You can just give us the essential details about that and get back to the action part of the story. That's what will pull your reader in. The backstory, that stuff can be sprinkled through later.]

Human. 

I might look it, sound it—smell it? I sniffed my shoulder—but no mythical creature could be robbed of their true identity.  [Interesting! I'm curious about this. Maybe you can introduce this part in the context of whatever is trying to kill your MC today.]


And there you have it, folks! What do you think, Secret Lifers? Do you agree with me? Or did I miss something? Comment below to add in your suggestions! And thanks to everyone who submitted this week. If we didn't get you this time, we'll try to catch you in our upcoming rounds.