Be judicious with gestures (page critique)

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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 Kate, whose page is below:

Back to Square One
Chapter 1 – The Early Years

As I lower myself onto my chair, my insides clench painfully and the heat rises to my wind chilled cheeks. The teacher’s desk is empty. I alone of my classmates know what has happened. Miss Halstead finally trudges through the door holding a bunched Kleenex to her eyes. Her voice breaking, she utters, “President John F. Kennedy has been shot.”

I wasn’t able to stop it! How could I? I’m still a child. Who would listen to me? One thing is sure, my father will believe me now. Even if he puts it down to premonition, he’ll listen.

I try to slow my breathing, exhaling slowly. If I couldn’t prevent Kennedy’s death, how will I stop a war? The room goes in and out of focus as if I’ve been set in place with no awareness of my surroundings – apart from them. Focus, things I can see, the wood desk with the ink stain, the ragged cuff of my sleeve, touch, the chewed pencil, my thin hair ribbon, hear, muffled distress – tune that out, the wind against the sill.

As the shock settles, I examine my fellow students perched on their hard wooden chairs. Many of their young faces are streaked with grief. All I can see of the tallest boy at the back of my row is the top of his blond head pressed into his crossed arms, shrouding his desktop.

My chief competitor for the honour roll raises his hand. Breaking the silence, he demands, “How? Why?”

The notion that a young protagonist might have been able to stop JFK’s assassination is an interesting premise, but I worry the writing makes things needlessly vague and complicated as an intro.

Apart from some clunkiness in the prose, I have three main concerns:

• What exactly does the protagonist think she could have stopped and why? Look how vague this is: “I wasn’t able to stop it.” What is it? The assassination entirely? The news arriving? What about it? The upcoming “war” is equally vague. We’re not getting any context that helps us wrap our mind around why a child at school could have influenced such momentous events. Be more specific with what the protagonist thinks she should have done and what she now needs to do next.
• Empty gestures. It’s so important to be judicious with gestures. We start off with a particularly generic one right off the bat (insides clenching), and already have a dramatic exhale and shock settling. First, gut check whether you really need a gesture or whether the narrative voice can carry the feeling. And if you do need one, try to make it more unique.
• An adult voice intruding into a children’s novel. Unless the plot of this novel is that this is an adult who has somehow been trapped in a child’s body, I don’t know that kids are in the habit of thinking of themselves “I’m still a child” or noticing that their classmates have “young faces.” If you’re writing for children, it really and truly needs to be a child’s vantage point.

Here’s my redline:

Back to Square One
Chapter 1 – The Early Years

As I lower myself onto my chair, my insides clench painfully and and the heat rises to my wind–chilled cheeks. [I’d pick one out of these gestures]. The teacher’s desk is empty. I alone of among my classmates know what has happened.

¶Miss Halstead finally trudges through the door holding a bunched Kleenex to her eyes. Her voice breaking, she utters, “President John F. Kennedy has been shot.”

I wasn’t able to stop it [What is “it?” The assassination or something else? What part of it? We’re just getting our bearings, be more specific]! How could I? I’m still a child. [Doesn’t feel authentically like a child’s voice] Who would have listened to me?

¶One thing is sure, my father will believe me now. Even if he puts it down to premonition, he’ll listen.

I try to slow my breathing, exhaling slowly. If I couldn’t prevent Kennedy’s death, how will I stop a war? [What war? Be more specific]

¶The room goes in and out of focus as if I’ve been set in place with no awareness of my surroundings – apart from them [I don’t really understand what this sentence means]. Focus [Avoid repetition of “focus”], things I can see,. tThe wood desk with the ink stain, t The ragged cuff of my sleeve, touch, the chewed pencil, m. My thin hair ribbon, hear, muffled distress – tune that out, t. The wind against the sill. [Less is more with what she focuses on]

As the shock I settles, I examine mMy fellow students’ perched on their hard wooden chairs. Many of their young [She thinks of her classmates as having “young” faces? An adult’s voice intruding] faces are streaked with grief [Is “grief” what young kids are really feeling in this moment?]. All I can see of tThe tallest boy at the back of my row is the top of has pressed his blond head pressed into his crossed arms, shrouding his desktop.

My chief competitor for the honour roll raises his hand [I don’t understand who this is. Is this tall boy or someone else?]. Breaking the silence, he demands, “How? Why?”

Thanks again to Kate!

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Art: The Country School by Winslow Homer