Re: CRIT: Proposed opening of WIP

In message <5OIxiWd5G4+GFwVR@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>, Jacey Bedford <lookinsig@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> writes
In message <if9lf3p922v5hc73gpuv5gqep0i1tlp850@xxxxxxx>, James Eades <jeeades@xxxxxxxxxx> writes
I submit this in trepidation, both for fear of the dread 'lose the
muse' phobia and for comments (if any) that may result: This is my
present opening for the WIP that is consuming my time (and holding me
hostage at chapter five):

This reads like YA or even chicklit. Is that your intention? I think the Jerisue spiel flips it over into that category for me.

======

There was something oddly familiar about watching ten tons of fire
engine barreling down upon me, the ear-pounding BLAT of the air horn
shattering my day-dreams as I scrambled pell-mell back onto the
sidewalk.

BLAT is very comic book and not very onomatopeic... maybe BLAAAT! (though I'd probably find a different way of phrasing it.

Open exhaust assaulted my ears as the firetruck brushed past,

'exhaust' - to me (Brit) represents the gasses that come out of the exhaust pipe (muffler to Mercans) and I would expect it to assault my nose, lungs or even eyes, but not my ears.

all
gleaming chrome and red, its exhaust roaring,
2 'exhaust' in 2 lines.

a monster bull bellowing
along the street. The young volunteer fireman clinging to the rear of
the truck, pulling on the sleeve of his worn protective suit,

How did he do that if he was clinging on to the back of a moving firetruck? how many hands has he got?

had been
a senior at Wellvern High last year. He grinned and gave me a
friendly wolf-whistle, drowned out by another BLAT of the horn. I
waved back and they were gone. I was left with my heart pounding
against my ribs and a profound sense of deja vu.

If the young fireman is a recurring character, fine. If not, can you cut him out of this?

Come to think of it, the first time had been at this corner of
Washington and Pine, on my way to deliver a package to the old folk's
home.

old folk's home or old folks' home?

You'd think I'd learn to read the signs by now. On that day,
the truck had been going to a house fire and I really wanted to turn
around to follow, but I was desperate to deliver the package in my
arms.

This time, the fire engine was headed downtown, where a thin
column of white smoke threaded into the air above nearby autumn hills
- only a trash fire, and of no interest to me. I settled back into my
comfortable mission, going to see an old woman who meant the world to
me.
Up to now it's only been YA, but this is where it suddenly turns into chick lit.

My name is Jeri Sue Simpson. Sixteen (almost). Bean pole. Long,
stringy brown hair. Gray eyes. By the way, that's Jeri Sue. Two
words, not one. My mom calls me Jerisue, but she also calls me
Geraldine. I let her get away with it because I love her.

Otherwise, only idiots and enemies call me Jerisue.

Hope that helps.

jacey

BTW, Forgot to mention that I like it.

Jacey
--
Jacey Bedford
jacey at artisan hyphen harmony dot com
posting via usenet and not googlegroups, ourdebate
or any other forum that reprints usenet posts as
though they were the forum's own

.

Relevant Pages

  • Re: House fire help - detail needed
    ... lookinsig@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx "Jacey Bedford" writes: ... very odd ways in a fire; ... your local fire department and pick your moment when calling. ...
    (rec.arts.sf.composition)
  • Re: CRIT: Proposed opening of WIP
    ... There was something oddly familiar about watching ten tons of fire ... BLAT is very comic book and not very onomatopeic... ... exhaust pipe and I would expect it to assault my nose, lungs or even eyes, but not my ears. ... Jacey Bedford ...
    (rec.arts.sf.composition)