The Writing Critique Thread!

Scene open for brash critique lol:

Landon puts his hand up to the glass and looks up at space. The stars and distant planets are moving and beautiful swirling dust seems to glide along the stars. They woke him up from his bed to look at the stars, usually they are just in the clouds, smoothly sailing. But sometimes they get up to the height where they can see Space. He wonders why no one else is with him. He continues to look at the stars, and his eyes focus on one planet. It looks big from here, but he knows it is far, far away. It is completely white, but with swirls of light brown inside it. Tiny lights dimmer and flicker there. Almost like the stars themselves. He rests his face gently on his hands, looking out the window at this planet. “Ox. It’s called.” Myombi says. Landon jumps up, startled yet Myombi is unmoving. “Did you call me here, sir?” He asks. Myombi says nothing, and just stares out at the planet. “Looking out at the stars and all the planets, it does make you feel alone in the big universe, doesn’t it?” Myombi says. Landon looks at him, confused. Myombi never talks about this sort of thing, he’s only seen him talk about training. Then he looks out the window when Myombi doesn’t reply. It doesn’t make him feel alone… not really. Because looking out at those stars and planets, he knows that he’s part of them, that he’s a piece in this universe, like the rest. “It is the only planet nearest to us, Ox is, the others are simply just… too far away. We don’t have enough fuel to reach them.” Landon just stares out at Ox. He knows that people live there. He wonders at what their life is like. What they do, how they live. Do they know about the disasters? “Tell me the story of It again Landon.” Myombi says. Landon looks up at him with surprise on his face, “But sir, don’t you know it?” Myombi laughs, “My boy, you can never hear too much of a thing.” “Well, I’m not much of a storyteller…” Landon says. “Tell me your own short version then.” Myombi says. Young Landon looks up at the stars, his eyes twinkling like them. He smiles slightly, the twinkle reaching his lips. “Okay. Well, there is this God we call It. This God ruled a land where he had a lot of power. He was the king. Until a peasant girl managed to trap him and send him to the stars. Trapped forever in a cage. Until one day, when the final descendant of the peasant girl is born, with the ability to see the disasters.” “Good, my boy.” Myombi says. They sit in silence for a while, after that, staring at the stars. “Myombi-” Landon starts tentatively. Myombi gently puts his finger up to his lips, shushing him. He would do that a lot. Myombi looks towards the stars, then Landon does as well. They’re pretty, he thinks, but doesn’t understand what Myombi could be looking at past them. Then after a while, Myombi begins to speak. “Do you know where we all came from?” Myombi asks. “No? Weren’t we born on the ship?” Landon guesses. His only memories are of the ship. His life, his whole world, was here. Myombi laughs. “We’re all from that planet that you’re looking at right now.” Myombi says. Landon puts his hands up to the glass and gasps. “A lot of you came from orphanages, some came from people who designed this ship in the first place.” “So it wasn’t a dream…” Landon whispers. “What was, my boy?” Myombi asks. “That I grew up in an orphanage. So I don’t have a family?” He asked. He had always hoped that somewhere on this ship there was a family waiting for him. But, that was more in the back of his mind. He was happy with his life and his friends here. “Not that we know of, no.” Myombi says. Not that they know of… “So… I could have a family down on that planet?” “Let’s not focus on that my boy, people are put into orphanages for a reason, you know.” Myombi says. “Besides, there’s something that you need to know now that is more importan-” Myombi starts. “So they either didn’t want me… or…” Landon begins. “They’re likely dead, my boy. Now- this is less important than-” Myombi starts. Landon looks up at him with frightened eyes, “Dead?” He chokes. He looks to the stars, hoping the tears in his eyes will go away. He looks to the stars, his only memories bleak. Of being in a dark room, walking down dark hallways, and getting shoved and locked in a room. His entire childhood, gone. Erased from his memory, and he doesn’t even know why. And he has a particularly good memory! But in that dark room… there was something… someone. “Is she dead too?” He mutters to himself. “Speak up my boy- I’m getting older and my hearing is going too.” Myombi says. “Stop calling me that.” He says. Myombi looks surprised, yet eerily pleased. “That is what I will call you until you can prove to me that you are anything but that, a boy. But you still would like to be a boy wouldn’t you?” Myombi says. “Maybe I wish you didn’t take everyone away! Taken me away!” Landon says. He expects Myombi to look angry, but he doesn’t, he just continues to stare at him without not a change on his face. “You wondered if the girl you knew down there was dead- why is this important to you?” He asks. “You heard me-” Landon says. “I hear everything.” Landon goes silent. He does not answer. He wants some part of his past to be alive. “How do you know that she isn’t on this ship?” Myombi asks. “She isn’t.” Landon says quietly. “Well, if you are good enough, maybe you will eventually find her when you go back.” Myombi says, getting up. Myombi begins to walk to the door, Landon looking at him--surprised. “Go back?” Myombi turns around, “Of course, to fight the disasters. You’ll be the leader. By then, I’ll be too weak to lead everyone.” “I can’t be the leader!” Landon says. “Of course you will, I have faith.” Myombi says, turning around. “I’ll have someone show you your new room. You won’t be seeing any of those pupils you knew for a while. Until you are 18.” He says. Landon tries to run to the door, but he shuts it and locks it. He did it again. Ripped it right from his fingers, his childhood- his fun, his life. And he didn’t even begin to realize. He pounds against the glass, tears dripping down his cheeks and sobs escaping from his chest. He must have sat there for an hour at most. After a while, he could tell that someone was watching him. It was then that he dried his tears and faced the door. He couldn’t have changed this. Then, a tall man entered. He had white hair and light purple eyes. He wasn’t older though, he looked to be in his 20’s. “I’m going to be your trainer, Landon. Now come along with me, the rest are waiting.” He said, and turned around. Landon followed him. His had was down and his eyes were dark. He looked towards the other door on the other side of the hall, the one that led to the rest of the ship, to his friends and to Liv. But as his footsteps sunk into the ground with heavy slow falls, he realized that he would forever give that up. Nothing would ever be the same. Everything was going to change. Landon sits now in front of the crowd before him. They know his name, but he doesn’t know any of theirs. But he knows what they feel, maybe he shouldn’t-but he does.

Oki so this is part of a story I’m writing right now. It’s bad. But I’m working on the first draft so right now I’m just word vomiting and writing what comes to my head and stuff. If it’s bad or I don’t like it, I just move forward. But I am curious about what people think of this scene and how I can improve it when I do the second draft. Also would appreciate less comment on my horrible grammar/spelling lol, cuz I already know that that is probably bad (really bad oof). But it’s more interesting to me to hear comments about the plot in general so…

Lol now reading it back which I’m just gonna stop doing before I hurt my brain-sounds like something a middle schooler would write… wow um

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Lmao can you tell I have no idea what he said :full_moon_with_face:

Anyway, yeah sure I’ll have to try that!

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Lol it’s okay! I think that is just the one part that needs to elaborated on. If you need help with it just let me know!

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Still share it!

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OMG I POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG THREAD :sob:

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:joy: It’s alright-

I do the same as well so much

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bump! :no_mouth:

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This is such a wonderful thread that @Writers should take advantage of. If you have any piece of writing you’re working on, then share part of it and get some feedback from an audience for how you can improve.

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So I’m writing this piece for Wattpad and this is my first chapter (all that I’ve written so far, thoughts?)

Red Roses In December
In a little room in a small house, a grandmother sits patiently in a chair beside the small bed. A worried expression dawns her face as she looks at her hands which she is wringing nervously. She knows she shouldn't have done this, this shouldn't work. But she can only have hope. She's been sitting here since the moon came out, and now the early morning sun begins to rise as her gaze lifts to the window.

The sun touches the girl on the bed. She is the opposite of sunlight. Her hair is pitch black and her skin as white as snow. She wears a plain black dress. The only thing that has a touch of color on her is the red flower crown made of roses on her head. Kneaded into her hair as if it was always supposed to be there.

As the sunlight touches her closed eyelids they gently flutter open. The old lady’s eyes widen in shock. She wants to say something, she needs to say something.

The girl’s mouth open and a dry, strangled voice comes out of it, “Gramma?”

The chair falls backward as the old lady suddenly stands up, “It worked! You’re awake!”

The girl’s eyes dart around in confusion as she gently sits up in bed. She doesn’t feel any different. Her grandmother suddenly wraps her in a warm embrace. Mary can feel her grandmother’s tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Granny.” Nothing has happened to her, has it?

She is here, she is Mary. Her granny is here. That’s all she’s really ever needed.

Her grandmother pulls away, wiping her tears and sniffling. She gets up from the floor and sits on the bed next to her.

“I know you’re very confused. I wish I could tell you everything.” Her grandmother says.

Mary twiddles her fingers in her lap. Tell her what? She doesn’t realize what has happened. And as she looks around the room, she fails to recognize it. Oh. Something has happened.

“Come on, let’s get you some breakfast. I’ll explain as much as I can then.” Her grandmother says.

Mary waits outside on the porch with a crust of bread, Granny telling her she would be out with some soup. She looks out at this world. Although the sun has fullen risen the sky is gray. All she sees is forest and grass. She stands up and leans against the balcony, peering more outwards. From there, her eyes draw her to a house. How hadn’t she noticed it before? It’s almost as grey as the sky… or else she would describe it as green. It looks like an old abandoned mansion. It seems she knows what mansions are. She looks beyond the house, and her eyes follow a pathway leading to a dark forest. It looks so magical… yet so dangerous at the same time. Even though it’s hard to see from the trees surrounding her own house, she can’t stop staring at that forest. So much so that she doesn’t even hear the door squeak open and Granny set the tray of soups down on the little table.

“That’s what I call the Screaming Oak. First lesson, never go there.”

The forest seems to rustle. The trees seem to move and whisper on their own accord. Something in the grasses moves. And she can almost see 6 eyes staring back into hers as she goes to look away.

“Why?”

“You can feel it can’t you?”

Mary looks out, holding out her arms as the wind sweeps through them, ratting the house. She shivers.

“The forest, and everything inside it is dangerous.” Her granny pauses briefly, looking at Mary before settling her own eyes on the forest, then quickly looking away.

“But… I think you more than anyone, will know that.” She says.

“Come inside, it’s getting cold out here. We’ll eat our soup inside.” She says, before turning around, taking the soups with her.

Mary looks out once more. Away from the forest and towards the strange mansion. She’ll have to remember to ask about that, if she remembers it. The wind shifts upwards, making her hair stand on end. She looks up, in the direction of the wind. Surprisingly, the roses stay rooted to her head. But she holds them down anyway. The wind pulls her eyes even more upwards and there she sees it… a clock… sitting dead center at the top of the sky.

“Mary!”

And then she walks inside, and before she can shut the door it slams from the wind. The wind rolls around, cackling, as it picks up leaves from trees, swirling around. It swirls upwards, towards the clock, yet can’t quite seem to reach it. Then it swirls back around, to the left of the fields, away from the Screaming Oak and out of sight, only rustling the old mansion before leaving the valley in stillness.

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I might post here later~

It sounds really good to me!

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So, uh, I kinda made a list of editing suggestions if you wanna look at it. I’m not a professional editor by any means, but I have had a fairly good grammatical education (I think). So yeah. You can use my suggestions if you want to @WritingWithStars.

This sounds slightly awkward. I “which she is wringing nervously” part doesn’t flow as well with the rest of the sentence. I would rephrase it.

Kneaded? The verb choice just sounds rather strange. I think perhaps braided (tho I know this doesn’t have quite the same connotation) or blended might be better? Or interwoven in.

A stronger verb could be nice.

Springs to her feet or something similar might be better, and imply a stronger action. Also, this needs a period.

She refers to her grandma by two different nicknames? Unless the first one isn’t a nickname, but a misspelling.

everything,” her grandmother says.
^ just a lil grammar thing.

Same thing as before, but also another note: using a different dialogue tag will sound better. How does her grandma say this? Is a good question to ask when deciding what verb/adverbs to use.

Fully

More of the same.

Perhaps rephrase this to something like, “the wind slamming the door shut behind her?” Idk, just sounds less awkward to me.

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Thanks! I appreciate it. I won’t be taking all of it into account tho because um… I do have a slightly awkward writing style. I intentionally like things to sound strange and awkward… if that makes any sense. I do agree with you on most of the points definitely tho.

Not all my stories are strange like this story, but when I write short stories I like them to be strange. I try to have the words be “misplaced” to have the piece sound “off” and awkward.

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I mean, I don’t quite understand, but ok. I personally like things to flow smoothly because otherwise my brain freaks out rip. But I get it. :))

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I agree with like certain things you said like my word choice being off and grammatically writing things bad. I will be changing those aspects and I really appreciate the feedback on it. There is definitely a way for writing to sound strange yet still be grammatically correct.

I guess an example would be the wind thing. I still like the way I phrased it because, yes it is awkward, but I wanted it to sound as if we are leaving Mary’s perspective and going to the wind’s. The last word in the sentence is “wind” so it makes it more transitional when the perspective suddenly switches to the wind’s lol. But if you have another suggestion to make it sound less awkward and still have a way to transition then I’m all ears!

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I’m working on the first chapter of a dumb crossover fic/writing what I can with the inspiration I have! If anyone could give some feedback, I’d much appreciate it. This isn’t completely done, by the way, I know it ends abruptly.

Summary

Working in Dalaran won’t be so bad! Jesse had said.

You’ll be better off without Dr. O’Deorain. Were Angela’s kind words of wisom.

You’re lucky to still be working for Overwatch. An astute observation from Commander Morrison.

Well, now that Finn found himself being imprisoned in the underbelly of the floating magical city, he couldn’t help but curse every single person who had given him well wishes about his relocation. It was a punishment. Why else would Commander Morrison send him, a chemist, to the magical capital of the world?

Only a few weeks at his new station had passed when the city had been attacked. Attacked. Who the attacked Dalaran, home of the Kirin Tor, the most powerful mages in the world? A group of five idiots Finn had only heard of by name from his captor’s lackeys, apparently.

Arch-Villain Rafaam. Swampqueen Hagatha. Madame Lazul. Heistbaron Togwaggle. Dr. Boom.

What kinds of names were those? Names with presumptuous titles that just oozed arrogance. Finn supposed they had a right to be arrogant. They’d captured Dalaran fairly easily. Imagine that.

None of the names sounded very familiar - though Hagatha reminded him of something he’d heard about in Gilneas a few years ago. And Finn remembered he and Moira getting each getting an invitation from a ‘Boom Labs’ to join a team working on a ‘Boomsday Project,’ though Moira had thrown hers out and insisted that Finn do the same.

Idiots or not, Dalaran was taken, the gates of the Violet Hold torn open, the Kirin Tor defeated. And he was going to be stuck in a cell for the second time in the span of just a few months.

Now that the streets had settled down, the lackeys of those in charge had been able to do a through search for those who had not died or escaped the city - Finn had been found hiding away from the chaos in his apartment. Despite his pleas and promises that he could have some use to whoever was in charge of the whole operation, he’d been thrusted into the hands of another subordinate and taken below the streets to be locked away.

The blood elf holding Finn’s wrists so tightly was not any kinder than the others. In fact, he seemed less so - when those who had found him had seemed to be rather joyful about the city being captured, this one was… Bitter. Finn had only seen him with a scowl on his face, as if he was rather displeased with what was happening. Or, judging by his rather particularly chosen and decorative outfit, maybe he was displeased with the job he had been delegated.

There hadn’t been any reasoning with the lackeys on the street. Maybe he could reason with the blood elf.

“S-Sir,” Finn tried not to stutter, but, damn it, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be scared, but this was really happening and he couldn’t help but let his voice waver. “I-I don’t know what kind of operation you- your organization- are running, but- I can be useful!” Finn wanted to twist around to look at the blood elf to plead, but he figured that would get him into more trouble. “I’m a chemist- A good one! I’m highly esteemed in my field–”

Gods. It sounded like he was bragging.

“It’s not up to me whether you’re useful or not.” The elf responded, cutting him off; the first thing he’d said in response to Finn at all. They stopped. With his free hand, the blood elf opened the door of an empty cell and gave Finn a gentle shove in. “All that matters to me is that you get in a cell and stay there.”

Finn let out a huff. He was halfway between anger and fear; angry at his situation, at Morrison and Angela and Moira. And fearful for his life, considering he was now at the mercy of those who had been bold (or stupid) enough to take on Dalaran. He was about to accept his fate and sit in the corner of his new home when the elf spoke up again, perking Finn up.

“However,” He leaned in close to the bars, putting on a sickeningly sweet smile that reminded him of the way Moira would look before she said something condescending. “If you give me your name, I can put in a good word or two with the big man upstairs.”

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Bumping this thread.

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Here is mine that I need feedback on!

My arms and legs burn as I run up and down the training area. “Harder! Faster!” My body screams. “Father went through this for hours, you can do this for as long as him. You deserve it! You should have died, not him!” No matter how much my legs burn, I don’t stop. No, I keep going. Father, he was my role model. When he died, all I wanted to do was shoot his executioners. But…I have yet to do so. Until then, I train. I train for hours, upon hours. I may seem like a fragile girl, but within me, lives a monster. A monster, fills me. This “monster” is my emotions that I pushed down to make way for survival. Everyday, I lift weights, run laps, swim, I do everything I can to prepare myself for the torture that comes.

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Bump! Anyone up for giving feedback? I know that some people would love some feedback here! Make sure to keep this thread active :wink:

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ok so this is 6 months late, but I can give u some feedback if u still want it?