Don’t let mysteries pile up (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 lizy2shoes, whose page is below:

Title: Carousel
Genre: Sci-Fi

First 250 words:

For me, today was sixteen years ago. This time I’m going to get things right.

Atop a snarling yellow horse on the merry-go-round, a small child waves to her guardian on the sidelines; the tinny, mechanical carousel refrains of My Darling Clementine weaving in and out of the horses and children as she circles round and round.

Yes, I remember that kid, that song. This is the day.

I sit on a nearby park bench and take in the setting, scanning and searching my memory.

The kid, the song, the merry-go-round in the park. I had been wearing that sweater my grandma had made, the purple one. It was itchy. I didn’t like it, but that day had been brisk and I hadn’t owned many sweaters back then.

What had I, the adult me, been wearing? I try to remember… I remember thinking I was tall, very tall, and I had a patchy, scraggly beard.

I avoided shaving this month for just that reason.

But what if I had shaved this morning? Would this still be the day?

What if I’ve made a mistake? Chose a different path somewhere in all these years…will today still be the day?

A small panic somersaults in my chest. My God, this is insane. I’m insane! I’ve lived my entire life anticipating an event that very well may have been a dream! I’ve wasted decades waiting for a metaphysical scene that might never happen!

And then, there he is: the wool sweater weaving through the scrubby brush and elm trees that surround the merry-go-round, the color of the yarn intensified by the clouds that suddenly roll in.

This page starts with an intriguing mystery. If I’m interpreting this correctly, the narrator seems to be observing a scene with a carousel that contains both child and adult versions of the narrator.

But… that’s kind of all we get. From there, mysteries and coy vagueness just pile up and pile up. We don’t know what the narrator is trying to do or why it matters. We don’t understand why the narrator thinks they might be insane or why it matters that they anticipated this moment for decades.

I stopped feeling like I cared about the mystery because I got tired of piecing together for clues, and it feels like the author just doesn’t really care too much if I understood the story. This is what I call the “neener neener effect,” where the author is withholding information in an arbitrary-feeling way just to create a mystery, but it ends up being more vague than mysterious.

Rather than helping us understand in a precise way what the narrator is looking for and what’s at stake in this scene and building a sense of mystery around whether the protagonist succeeds or fails, which would open up the story, we’re instead just sort of waiting for tangible morsels to start investing in.

All doesn’t have to be revealed straightaway, but err on the side of letting the reader into the story. Help us understand in a precise way what’s motivating the protagonist. Build the mystery around whether they’ll succeed or fail, not around what is happening entirely.

Aside from that, there’s some repetition in the prose akin to the Repetition section in my list of writing maladies. In particular, avoid repeating synonyms, which by definition are rarely additive, and things that have already been established.

Here’s my redline:

Title: Carousel
Genre: Sci-Fi

First 250 words:

For me, today was sixteen years ago. This time I’m going to get things right. [Missed opportunity to be more specific/tangible to let the reader into the story. What exactly does he want to get right?]

Atop a snarling yellow horse on the merry-go-round, a small child waves to her guardian on the sidelines; the A tinny, mechanical carousel refrains refrain of My Darling Clementine weavinges in and out of the horses and children as she it circles round and round.

Yes, I remember that kid, that song. This is the day. [Another missed opportunity to let the reader into the story]

I sit on a nearby park bench and take in the setting, scanning and searching my memory. [Avoid repeating synonyms. Also: searching their memory for what? Another missed opportunity to let the reader into the story].

The kid, the song, the merry-go-round in the park. [We got that already] I had been wearing wore that purple sweater my grandma had made, the purple one. It was itchy. I didn’t like it, but that day had been brisk and I hadn’t owned many sweaters back then.

What had I, the adult me, been wearing? I try to remember… I remember thinking I was tall, very tall, and I had a patchy, scraggly beard.

I avoided shaving this month for just that reason.

But what if I had shaved this morning? Would this still be the day? [Another missed opportunity to let the reader into the story]

What if I’ve made a mistake? [Too vague to be meaningful] Chose a different path somewhere in all these years…will today still be the day? [I don’t understand what this is referring to]

A small panic somersaults in my chest. My God, this is insane. I’m insane! [Too much repetition in the prose] I’ve lived my entire life anticipating an event [Anticipating what event? Missed opportunity to let the reader into the story] that very well may have been a dream! I’ve wasted decades waiting for a metaphysical scene that might never happen! [Wasted decades on what for what purpose? Missed opportunity establish the stakes]

And then, there he is: the wool sweater weaving through the scrubby brush and elm trees that surround the merry-go-round, the color of the yarn intensified by the clouds that suddenly roll in. [Imprecise physical description. I don’t really understand where the boy is]

Thanks agin to lizy2shoes!

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

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

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

Art: André Devambez – La Place Pigalle