Err on the side of providing context (page critique)

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

• Nominate Your First Page for a Critique on the Blog
• Nominate Your Query for a Critique on the Blog

Also, if you’d like to test your editing chops, keep your eye on this area or this area! I’ll post the pages and queries a few days before a critique so you can see how your redline compares to mine.

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 coatimundi, whose page is below.

Title: Quar Corners
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic

Ana flinched, sensing the inaudible screech that always agitated the street dogs just before the synthesized chimes began. There were more than twenty boxes now, all mounted high on phone poles, and Silverton was small enough you could hear the announcements from anywhere. No need for Mayor Dave to address weary citizens from the decaying steps of the courthouse, the way things worked in the first two years of the quarantine. Last fall Ana’s brother and his friends had killed a box down by the low-head dam. Three 12-year olds caught with stones in their pockets and slingshots in their hands. First offense, no detention but it went on their records. “Skeeter,” she’d admonished. “You kill the camera first. Sneak up on it. Did you even look for it?”

When the familiar tones sounded Ana peered out the dirt-spattered window of her trailer at a gap in the trees, focusing on a streetside pole bathed in late-afternoon sunlight. Force of habit, watch the talking box. But something fluttered in her stomach; this was different. Usually the announcements came at noon and consisted of guidelines, reminders, administrivia. Toward sundown people were steeling themselves for the night. Feeding their dogs before chaining them in the yard.

Parley let himself in without knocking, letting the flimsy tin door slam closed behind him. Oblivious to the moment, Ana thought. And feeling entitled, as if he was still her boyfriend. She glanced at him, put a finger to her lips.

“Silvertonians!” proclaimed a reassuring voice.

This page reads smooth on the whole, and I like some of the imaginative details we get right off the bat, including the trailer, the screech of the speakers that rattle the street dogs, even the dirty window. These combine in a nice way to give the reader a nascent sense of place.

My main concern is that as with so many pages I see, there are so many little moments where contextualizing details are withheld from the reader, which makes it harder than it should be to get our bearings. What are these chimes for? What is this quarantine? Why did Skeeter try to kill one of the boxes?

We’re also pretty different from Ana and what’s on her mind and what she wants to do this day. Why is she “flinching” at the speakers? What’s her mindset and what does she want on this particular day?

Every single thing doesn’t have to be revealed right away, but these little points of confusion can add up and make it difficult to get into a flow. Err on the side of providing context. There’s so little to be gained from holding out on the reader unless you’re very specifically choosing to create a mystery.

Here’s my redline:

Title: Quar Corners
Genre: Post-Apocalyptic

Ana flinched, sensing at [If a character is reacting to something it’s already apparent they’re “sensing” it] the inaudible screech that always agitated the street dogs just before the synthesized chimes began that signaled X/Y/Z [What synthesized chimes? Why not provide a bit of clarity on that?]. There were more than twenty boxes now, all mounted high on phone poles, and. Silverton was small enough you could hear the announcements from anywhere. No need for Mayor Dave to address weary citizens from the decaying steps of the courthouse, the way things worked in the first two years of the quarantine [What quarantine?].

¶Last fall, Ana’s brother Skeeter and his two friends had killed were arrested for killing a box down by the low-head dam [Why did they do this?]. Three 12-year olds caught with stones in their pockets and slingshots in their hands. First offense, no detention, but it went on their records.

¶“Skeeter,” she’d admonished. “You kill the camera first. Sneak up on it. Did you even look for it?” [I don’t understand this dialogue]

When tThe familiar tones chimes sounded and Ana peered out the dirt-spattered window of her trailer at a gap in the trees, focusing on a streetside pole that bathed in late-afternoon sunlight in a gap in the trees. Force of habit, watch the talking box. But something fluttered in her stomach; this was different. Usually the announcements came at noon and consisted of guidelines, reminders, administrivia. Toward sundown people were steeling themselves for the night. Feeding their dogs before chaining them in the yard.

Ana’s ex-boyfriend Parley let himself into the trailer without knocking, letting and let the flimsy tin door slam closed behind him. [Describe Parley’s physical details]. Oblivious to the moment, Ana thought. And feeling entitled, as if he was still her boyfriend. She glanced at him, put a finger to her lips.

“Silvertonians!” proclaimed a reassuring voice over the speaker.

Thanks again to coatimundi!

Need help with your book? I’m available for manuscript edits, query critiques, and coaching!

For my best advice, check out my guide to writing a novel and my guide to publishing a book.

And if you like this post: subscribe to my newsletter!

Art: Carl Friedrich Schulz – Rhodesian Ridgeback