Don’t overdo it (Page critique)

If you’d like to nominate your own page or query for a public critique, kindly post them here in the discussion forums:

• Nominate Your First Page for a Critique on the Blog
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And, of course, if you need help more urgently or privately, I’m available for edits and consultations!

Now then. Time for the Page Critique. First I’ll present the page without comment, then I’ll offer my thoughts and a redline. If you choose to offer your own thoughts, please be polite. We aim to be positive and helpful.

Random numbers were generated, and thanks to HBlack, whose page is below:

Title: Dead Run
Genre: Sci-Fi

First 250 words-

France: June 1943

The night never came this time of year. Instead, it sulked on the edges of the sky, black pressing down against the indiscriminate horizon. The sun waited off stage below the world, an eerie glow casting out tendrils of purple, reaching and grabbing, fighting to remain alive. It was neither day nor night, fish nor fowl. Just nothingness. The air lay so heavy, Tommy felt like he might drown. He hated this absence of being.

Pacing the perimeter outside the farmer’s two-story cottage, Tommy felt the strain of the endless twilight. Always on heightened alert, there was no nightfall to provide a sense of security. Tommy couldn’t see the enemy and the enemy couldn’t see him, not until it was too late. Blinking his eyes, he looked out past the chicken coop to the fields beyond. Darkened clumps of wheat swayed as a breeze ran its fingers through Tommy’s hair, whispering names of the departed in his ear. The Cleaver, Pancake Billy, and Jack. Tommy winced at Jack. That name stung the most.

Completing the circuit, Tommy leaned against a plastered wall, sinking to the ground. Pressing an ear to the wall, he ignored the chirps and howls outside, trying to catch a voice on the inside. His hands thumbed a small gold cross nestled at his throat. The chain was a bit too small, the filigree a bit too delicate in comparison to his height and build. Although the necklace choked him when it caught on his shirt tag, Tommy never took it off.

There is a lot of really good writing here. I particularly liked “sulked at the edge of the sky,” “eerie glow casting out tendrils,” and the wind “whispering names of the departed in his ear.” All very evocative.

I don’t have major complaints with this opening. We know where we are, we’re getting to know a particular character, and we have a sense of what’s on his mind. The writing is giving us confidence we’re in sure hands.

If I were quibbling, I’d say that we get perhaps a bit too much about the twilight at the same time that it’s described a bit imprecisely. For instance, while I like the phrase “it sulked on the edges of the sky,” the previous sentence was about the night. So the night is sulking on the edges of the sky? How does that work? Wouldn’t the light be at the edge of the sky since the sun is beneath the horizon? I’m also confused how the horizon would be “indiscriminate.” Of all the times you have a sense of the horizon it’s during twilight, no?

Also, there’s a subtle perspective issue. The perspective seems like third person limited because we’re anchored to Tommy, but then, would Tommy think about his own chain as being “a bit too delicate in comparison to his height and build”? That pulled me out of the narrative.

Still, these are more minor concerns, and I feel like this page is working on the whole. Nice work HBlack!

Here’s my redline:

Title: Dead Run
Genre: Sci-Fi

First 250 words-

France: June 1943

The night never came this time of year. Instead, it the light sulked on the edges of the sky, black pressing down against the indiscriminate horizon. The sun waited offstage below the world, an eerie glow casting out tendrils of purple, reaching and grabbing, fighting to remain alive. It was neither day nor night, fish nor fowl. Just nothingness. The air lay so heavy, Tommy felt like he might drown. He hated this absence of being. [“Absence of being” feels a little heavy-handed, particularly since he’s feeling emotions about the departed in the next paragraph and he can still see what’s around him. Be more precise about what he hates]

Pacing the perimeter outside the farmer’s two-story cottage, Tommy felt the strain of the endless twilight. Always on heightened alert , There was no nightfall to provide a sense of security. He had to remain on heightened alert. [Lead sentences with active verbs to make them more urgent and heighten the tension.] Tommy couldn’t see the enemy and the enemy couldn’t see him, not until it was too late. Blinking his eyes [Goes without saying he’s blinking eyes], he looked out past the chicken coop to the fields beyond. Darkened clumps of wheat swayed as a breeze ran its fingers through Tommy’s hair, whispering names of the departed in his ear. The Cleaver, Pancake Billy, and Jack. Tommy winced at Jack. That name stung the most.

Completing the circuit, Tommy leaned against a plastered wall, sinking to the ground. He pressed Pressing an ear to the wall, he ignored ignoring the chirps and howls outside, trying to catch a voice on the inside. [Another place I’d recommend leading with an active verb] His hands He thumbed a small gold cross nestled at his throat. The chain was a bit too small, the filigree a bit too delicate for someone his size in comparison to his height and build. Although the necklace choked him when it caught on his shirt tag, Tommy never took it off.

With a little more precision, active verbs, and smoothing out the perspective issue, I think this page is in really good shape.

Thanks again, HBlack!

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Art: Twilight, “Short Arbiter ‘Twixt Day and Night” by Frederic Edwin Church