Category: Uncategorized

Something went berserk in my Excel file where I was tracking who was attached to each paragraph. (It happened this morning, long after I posted winners.)

I no longer have a list telling me who wrote which paragraph. So if you want to claim your own, post your name in the comments trail and I will move it up into the body of your paragraph post.

Sorry.

Dear LDSP,

Are those paragraph rewrites in the comments trail from you? If so, why did you post them anonymously?

No. Those are not me. I’ve received permission from most of the contest submitters to do a critique of their paragraph and I will be doing that over the next several days. My critiques will be posted within and at the end of the actual paragraphs, not in the comments trail. And they will be in red.

I cut this from the comments trail and posted it here because it’s the perfect set-up for a teaching moment. This is a great example of why good writing sometimes gets rejected.

The poetry in this paragraph is excellent, however it lessens the effect the story could have. And keeping the identity of “the man” from the reader until the end of the paragraph has the effect of annoying the reader rather than drawing the reader into intrigue and mystery of the scene. …

The poetry in this paragraph …are all very fine descriptive details, but they have the effect of notifying the reader that the author is hard at work selecting poetic verse to add emotion to the scene. However, Eli Slater would never select those words if he were telling this story…we never get to see this scene through Eli’s eyes.

…in addition to the poetic verse removing the character from the scene and repalcing him with the author, it also has the effect of weakening the impact of the scene through repeition. A single
metaphor or a poetic word choice discretely placed among the forward thrust of the story may not weaken the lines too much, but more than once and the author becomes the viewpoint character….

…Edit out all of the poetry and replace it with thoughts and descriptions that Eli would see and feel. Then Eli gets to tell us the story from his point of view without so much author instrusion. Something like:

Eli Slater clung to the top of a telegraph pole with one hand and held the pocket key with the other. The icy wind cut through his officer’s coach like a dagger between his shoulder blades, but there was no one to stop him from sending the message. None of the other officers dared venture out into cold night. He tapped out LINCOLN IN ROUTE and it was done. The eight assassins were on their way and there was no one to warn the president. He reached for the wire cutters in his pocket. At least no one from this part of the growing confederacy. Eli cut the wire.

Here we have two different treatments (blue above and original) of the same story. Neither is “wrong.” Which has a better chance of being accepted for publication? It depends on which editor/publisher is reading it.

Personally, I like the original better. It has a depth and richness that I love to read. I wasn’t distracted by the language, or by not knowin the characters identity. For me, it added suspense and an intense desire to read more. When I get a submission with writing like this, it gets read all the way through–regardless of whether I’m looking for that genre or not.

If I got the blue paragraph, I would read until I determined if it was something that would fit with my product line. I might read it all the way through, or I might not, depending on the rest of the story.

But here’s the teaching moment: My colleague over at XYZ Publishing hates flowery exposition. They want fast and to the point. At their house, the blue paragraph would have the advantage.

The trick is matching your writing style with a publishing house that will appreciate it.

How do you know what style an editor/publisher prefers? Look at what they’ve published in the past. Read the acknowledgments in a book that is similar in writing style to yours. If they list an editor by name, that’s who you want to address your manuscript to.

I was so pleased with the number of entries in this contest and with the interest level that they all piqued, both in myself and in the voters. There were quite a few paragraphs that I’d be interested in reading more of. My thanks to everyone who was brave enough to enter this contest. Bravo!

After days of conflicting thoughts and feelings, I settled on the three for which I would definitely request to see a full manuscript. But then it got really hard. First place and the two runners-up were so close that I went round and round with all three of them, trying to decide which one should be in which place. However, I finally settled on the which and why.

Therefore (drum roll please)

First Place: T. Lynn with Paragraph #13

This paragraph has such a strong sense of place. I don’t think anyone has done a better job of putting me into a scene so quickly. I am right there up on that pole with Slater. I know exactly where I am in history. The foreshadowing of the fury and the cold and the evil of the war is clear in the choice of descriptors. The only thing I can find to critique is this sentence: If Abraham Lincoln lived or died tonight, he wouldn’t hear about it over these lines. It’s a little awkward, but not so much that it popped me out of the scene. If T. Lynn can do dialogue and plot as well as she does the imagery in this paragraph, then this is a book I want to read. If I received this as part of a query, would I ask for a partial? No. I’d ask for the whole thing! Now, please.

First Runner-Up: Jeff Savage with Paragraph #22

Another really great sense of place, where I was right there with Kinion—holding my breath the whole time. I liked the counting down of the minutes. It added to the tension. So why did this get first runner up? Because I’m not certain what genre it is. I’m thinking it’s not a straightforward historical fiction. So either great latitude is being taken with history; or it’s an entirely different story with an entirely different set of gold plates and our LDS antennae are being toyed with; or we’re going to see a parallel history, similar to what Orson Scott Card did in the Alvin Maker series. Whichever, I’d like to read the rest.

Second Runner Up: W.L. Elliott with Paragraph #14
I loved this! We are right there with those flying ponies. That’s a cute idea. The dragon as guard dog has been done before, but this one has a unique humor to it. This paragraph was neck and neck for first runner-up. It barely missed because it really should be three paragraphs—but I’m glad she sacrificed her shot at first place and gave us the extra info. This is another one where I’d ask to see the whole manuscript based on just this much.

First Place:
Suzanne Reese
with Paragraph #20 (8 votes)

Runners-Up: (5 votes each)
Melanie Goldmund
with Paragraph #3

and

Anonymous
with Paragraph #12

I’ve heard that some publishing companies hire people (paying them in books) to read manuscripts and give their opinions of the books. Is this true? If so, how do I get hired doing this?

Yes, many publishing companies do this. I’m not sure how you go about getting hired to do this. You can always call them up and ask, but I’m not sure if that will help much. This is probably one of those things where you have to know someone–or rather, they have to know you. In my company, these positions are offered by me, after I’ve known someone for awhile and we’ve discussed various books a lot, and I know that I can trust their assessment of a book.

If you really want to do this, but you don’t have the personal connections, you might offer to read a few on spec, so they can see if you’re a good match for their company.

Habits and/or Skills that would impress me:
Read a lot of books–I’m talking 80 to 100 per year, year after year; you need to be able to recognize current trends and when something has been done to death

Read in a lot of genres–know the various conventions used, needed, expected in each genre; be able to talk/write about them intelligently

Basic grammar/editing skills–you need to recognize when something is written properly and when it is not; whether it needs only light editing or heavy editing

Basic writing skills–you need to be able to recognize certain writing styles, techniques, and discuss them using correct terminology (ex: POV, etc.); you also need to be able to clearly express what worked in a book, and what didn’t, and why

Picky, picky, picky–If you read a lot of books, and you like most of them, you’re probably not discriminating enough. On the other hand, if you hate everything you read, that’s probably not going to work either.

Submissions are now closed for the Opening Paragraph Contest.

Voting is allowed until midnight (Mountain Time) on Monday, September 11, 2006.

1. Why are there still submissions with ZERO votes?
I don’t get that. You’re allowed (and expected by me, at least) to vote for your own paragraph. If you don’t believe in your work enough to vote for it, why should anyone else? I’m off to work for several hours now, but when I come back and check this afternoon, I expect to find at least one vote for every single submission.

And, have you told your friends and relatives to come here and vote? If you want honest feedback, you probably don’t want to tell your mother/spouse/children which one is yours. But at least send them to the site to vote!

(If you get published, you need to help spread the word and the buzz about your book. This will be good practice for you.)

2. May I post comments about your paragraph?
I had fully intended to post comments about what I thought you did well and where I thought you needed improvement–after the contest ended. When someone asked me if I would do that, I went back and checked my contest post and realized I had forgotten to mention that. Ooops.

So, if you want comments about your paragraph, you will need to e-mail me and give me permission to do that. Otherwise, since I didn’t warn you in advance, I will not give you a critique.

Also, a clarification: I will only post the names of the paragraph winners (unless you requested otherwise). If you would like public credit for your paragraph, even if you did not win the contest, let me know. I will not post your name unless you tell me I may do so.

Eight. Kinion counted the minutes silently. He knew he was in the right place. Knew to the second what was coming. Yet his heart pounded like a jacketed fist against the inside of his ribs. Seven. The icy wind danced and surged, slapping cold sheets of rain against his exposed face and neck. Six. A branch cracked in the darkness and he froze, scarcely breathing as the tall man appeared like a wrath through the trees. His height and broad shoulders were unmistakable Five. The man leaned, as if carrying a heavy weight, glanced about, and set a bundle on the damp ground. Four. It was impossible to see what was happening, but Kinion knew anyway. He’d scouted the log with the hidden compartment carved into it earlier in the day. Three. The man straightened, cocked his head, listening, and stepped back. Two. This was it, he was watching history, but soon he’d be making it. One. For a split second Kinion was sure the man had sensed his presence—it wouldn’t have surprised him in the least—but no, he checked the log one final time and disappeared into the night. Crouching low, Kenion scuttled through the woods, pulled back the bark cover and grabbed the sack. The gold plates were his.

See comments here.

Susan gripped the sides of the porcelain vanity sink and tried to control the terror raging inside her. She slowly counted as she breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. After five counts, she slowly (slowly/slowly–lose one) looked forward to see herself in the mirror. She saw despair. Despair is something I can work with, she thought, but not terror. She gazed into her own hazel eyes, wanting to see something there to give her hope. (New paragraph) Finally, she put her cooled hands on her cheeks to leech the warmth that had blossomed there. (This part is strong. From here out, it gets weaker.)

She tried to remember what had brought the panic attack on. She had just stepped out of the shower, toweled dry and started to take care of her sandy blonde hair when she saw herself in the steamed mirror. She realized at that moment that she wasn’t getting ready for work, but for a date. (delete all this) This was her first one (date) since she had moved to this town six months ago. Then she downed a cocktail of self-doubt, self-pity and insecurity, which left her in a state ripe for panic. (needs transition) Had she known how the night would end, the horror would have utterly consumed her. (strong ending to this, but it needs a smoother transition)

Critique: The first description of her looking in the mirror is one of the few instances where that convention works. The rule is: never have your character look in a mirror as an excuse to describe their physical appearance. But this works–until you start actually describing her normal physical appearance.

Would I ask for more? Depends on the strength of query and synopsis. Based on this, probably not until after rewrites. But then I’d be willing to look at it again.

Paige sat as far away as possible from the driver of the spiffy (no–if she’s in that much trauma, she’d hardly reference the car as “spiffy”–and neither should the author. It minimizes what’s coming next.), new mustang she’d just spent a horrifying hour in. Both hands gripped the door handle in anticipation, and as the car approached her house, she opened the car door and watched the blur of gravel below her. As soon as the car slowed enough that she was reasonably sure she wouldn’t break her neck, she stumbled out of the prison. She scuffled to her front door, her quivering hands holding tight to her belly in an effort to keep the pain and nausea at bay. She picked up her pace when she heard footsteps behind her. The boy came up beside her and walked nonchalantly, as if this was just any normal date on any normal Saturday night. As if. (new paragraph) “I had a nice time,” he said, casually, rubbing his hands together. (new paragraph) Paige gasped and pushed hard on the door. She didn’t use the kind of language that comment deserved. He reached out and grabbed her arm. She stiffened, frozen with fear. (new paragraph) “Can I call you?” She yanked her arm out of his grasp, stepped inside, and slammed the door, wincing at the possibility that her parents might have heard.

Critique: Another one that made the first cut. It didn’t make the finals because I got mixed signals. My first thought is, she’s been raped. But then there was the confusing and trivializing first sentence (spiffy). Also lost points because it’s several paragraphs. This could be good, or it could be same old girl-recovers-from-trauma-all-men-are-scum book. I need to know more.

Would I ask for more? Yes. Depending on the query and synopsis, I’d probably ask for a full.

The glowing numbers on the clock proclaimed I had been awake for three hours now. Three hours that I had laid in bed (grammar), wishing sleep would come-willing to count every sheep in the shed if it would help. (cute end to sentence) Nada. Nothing. (new paragraph) I hated laying there staring at the ceiling and feeling guilty that I wasn’t asleep. Why guilty? Was there some law that said I had to be asleep at some predetermined time? I guess it was mostly because (passive voice) my mother had drilled that idea into my brain: if you weren’t sleeping during the night, you were up to no good. Along with that, I always knew I would feel tired in the morning and wish I had slept. But it never helped. At least it didn’t tonight. (new paragraph) I groaned and rolled over, burying my head under my pillow, trying to block out the numbers which seemed to imprint themselves on my closed eyelids. This latest bout of insomnia was due no doubt to the anxiety I felt over moving. It was my least favorite occupation –moving. Let alone the choice I had made this time. It was one thing to move from one apartment to another, but to move from one state to another was a whole different ball game.

Critique: Needs tightening. Too passive. Too meandering. Like the last paragraph, not being able to sleep and mother issues are both universal problems that could be built upon. But where are we going with this? What type of book is this? I’m not getting enough information yet.

Would I ask for more? No.

Note to everyone: These last two paragraphs are examples of good “chick-lit” ideas that haven’t taken off yet. They are first draft level writing that need a lot of work. But, they have potential because we can recognize ourselves in them. When you speak to feelings and issues that most of us have had, you have the beginnings of something that could have wide appeal. If you build in some uniqueness, let us into the speaker’s minds and hearts, then you might have something.

Home. The images that word invoked swirled through my mind, making me to stop and steady myself before continuing on. (grammar) It was just a glimpse of the house through the neighboring trees, standing as it had stood through the past forty years–withstanding (standing/withstanding–change one) snow and rain, heat and discord. (new paragraph) It had gone through a number of face lifts, the latest being a mixture of brick and stucco. I’m not sure I even care about the outward appearance, it had always just been a house to me. It was what happened inside that mattered—that always haunted me. Its siren voice called to me every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. It called to me during summer reunions and family get togethers, which were getting fewer and fewer with the years. It called to me even stronger now that I had purposefully avoided all of those activities for the past eight years. (delete these) (new paragraph) Eight long years that I had sought purpose and meaning to the life I had chosen. Only to find that it had been here all along. Here with my family and their unconditional love and open arms. At least, I hoped there were open arms. I wasn’t sure how they were going to feel about my showing up for Thanksgiving so unexpectedly. This unannounced visit–after ignoring all invitations for so long that they had become almost non-existent. But I hadn’t been able to pick up the phone. Every time I tried, my hand would freeze, hovering over it and I would end up pulling it back to gaze with fascinated dread at the machine.

Critique: This has some problems. Mostly structural. You meander too much. The idea of coming home again, dealing with the past, is universal–so that’s a good idea to write about. Need to tighten it up a lot. Get us out of her head and build up a little more sensory experiences.

Would I ask for more? Not at this point.

Victor looked with trepidation at the blood spot in the snow. He knew from the pain in his side that his crampons had stabbed him when he fell, but the blood confirmed what he already knew. (tighten the sentence) His instincts told him (how? why?) that he was in danger. (of what?) Getting off the mountain was vital (why?) but with the pain in his wrist (what’s wrong with his wrist?) and the blood, he felt he might not make it.(why not?) It had taken all his strength to get this far and he wondered where he could get more energy. He ate his last candy bar an hour ago and the energy boost was helpful (very weak ending)

Critique: Although you’ve shown us blood, you’ve told us everything else. It needs more punch, more sense of place. I need a reason to care about this guy–other than the generic “poor anonymous man is going to die…”. I am not emotionally tied to this guy.

Would I ask for more? No.

Almost as Billy finished pounding on it, the door opened with a jerk. (sentence structure) What Billy saw inside the house made his heart sink. (Don’t tell me. Show me what is happening, what he is seeing, how his body is reacting) In an instant (cliche) he saw a man crouched against an opposite wall, the man (a man/the man–repetitive) was pointing a weapon (what? how did he know it was a weapon?) at the open doorway. Billy shouted, “he’s got a gun” and lunged away from the doorway. (usually you lunge toward something, not away from it; also, who’s he shouting to? are there people with him?) When he (who?) dove for cover, (awkward) He crashed through the wooden porch handrail and he was unconscious before he landed in the bushes.

Critique: Need to tighten up your writing. You have some basic grammatical and punctuation errors here. You’ve told us everything. Show us.

Would I ask for more? No.

“What do you mean you’re going to California?” asked Mary Ann. Jack didn’t know what to do. He knew his family would starve during the winter if he didn’t do something. He searched for a solution but the only thing that he could think of was selling out. He knew he had failed, and he didn’t feel worthy of his wife. He began to believe all the things that his father in law had said about him. Finally, Jack settled on a plan. (plan for what? to leave his wife? to prove his father-in-law wrong? to rob a bank?)

Critique: I can’t tell what this story is–a romance? a mystery? a life-as-it-is literary piece? There’s not enough here to differentiate it from all the other stories of discontented families. Also, it’s all telling. You need to show us something.

Would I ask for more? No.

Contest Deadline:
Tonight, Friday, September 8
12:00 Midnight (Mountain)

All entries must have a time stamp at midnight or before.

I will post the last of the entries Saturday morning (I am not staying up till midnight to do it.)

Voting will continue through Monday, Sept. 11 at midnight

“You rotten little beasties!” Petal yelled, wielding her broom as a knight might swing a weapon. “Get out of my garden!” She hurried toward her garden patch, swinging the broom with vigor, but before she could get anywhere near them, the miniature ponies, each with a single horn and a pair of feathery wings, dashed into the air like a flock of multicolor magpies. “Oh, just look at the mess they’ve made!” she huffed, throwing the broom down in frustration and standing in the middle of her garden with hands on hips. The unicorns, who had settled in the nearby branches, scolded from afar. When they saw that she was not about to leave until they did, they flew away to find greener pastures, or even better, greener gardens. Petal watched them go, staying put until she was convinced they were gone, then picked up her broom and started back to the cabin. “Fat lot of good YOU are, Falco!” she bellowed at her pet, who lay nearby on the thatched roof of the house. “I should have got a dog instead!” Falco, looking much like a large lizard, lay sunning himself, wings outspread to catch the afternoon sun. The dragon merely blinked once, yawned lazily, turned his head and went back to sleep. “I give up,” Petal muttered, perturbed, “I really do.”

See comments here.

Dear LDS Publisher,

How do bookstores in the LDS market decide which titles to stock? What criteria do they use in deciding to order many copies of one title, just a few of another title and none at all of a third? How do they decide whether or not to reorder a title once it sells out? How do they make the decision as to what to display most prominently in their stores? In the case of the bigger chains, are these decisions up to the individual stores, or do ordering decisions come from the top? Thank you for your help. I love your blog.

A Naive Newbie

How do the bookstores make their ordering decisions? On the first night of the new moon, they meet at midnight in a secret clearing in the midde of the forest where they bury the latest copies of Deseret Book’s catalog and Books ‘n Things. Then on the night of the full moon, they go back and dig them up, give them a shake and order the books with pictures that aren’t smudged by the mud and dirt.

Working in a bookstore is the one job in this industry that I have never done. And it’s probably a good thing because I’d spend my entire salary on books and my family and I would be living in a cardboard box under the freeway.

However, based upon what they tell me when I call them up to beg for orders, it seems the bookstores make these decisions for several reasons:

1. Selling history. Certain authors and genres are pretty much guaranteed to sell well. They order more of those.

2. Current trends. If they see a trend developing, they’ll order to support that trend.

3. Promotions. If a book is promoted well by the publisher, they’ll buy it. For example, most bookstores will try to stock books that are being advertised in DB and BT.

4. Personal taste. If a book speaks to the buyer on a personal level, or one of their trusted employees, they will buy the book.

5. Bribery. If the publisher is offering a deeper discount, they will sometimes take a chance on a book.

Choice of what to display is based upon these same criteria. Also tie-ins to holidays or local events.

They will reorder a particular title as long as customers are walking into the store asking for it. Usually. Sometimes they intend to reorder and they forget. That’s where a good distributor comes in–to make calls to remind them to reorder.

As for the chains, as far as I know, it’s up to the individual stores. DB stores place their orders with the main office, which places the total order with us. We ship to their warehouse and they disperse them between the stores. If a title isn’t in DBs database, then the individual stores usually do not order it–although on occasion, they will make an exception for a well-promoted local book.

[Editorial Note: Since the comments trail on this post has turned into a conversation on whether or not the Confederacy existed at this point in time, rather than about the paragraph and its other literary merits, I am making the executive decision to delete the man’s title from the paragraph. For more details, see my post in the comments trail. Please disregard the deleted rank title when judging this post.]

In the black winter night, a man clung to the top of a telegraph pole while around him icy winds blew. Skeletal tree branches popped and swayed in the storm. Angry gusts grabbed at the tails of his woolen overcoat, cracking them in the darkness with the sound of a bullwhacker’s whip. The man tested the abyss for signs of approaching humans but there were none–for none dared to enter the swirling, black eddy of nature’s wrath. Tonight, he knew, Satan was awake and pushing open his mighty doors. Working a pocket key under the wire the man took a deep breath, then tapped out the message. “Lincoln en route. Assassins waiting.” Once, twice, three times he sent the encrypted message while the wind howled its protest. Would the eight assigned men succeed in killing the gangly president-elect? If Abraham Lincoln lived or died tonight, he wouldn’t hear about it over these lines. Removing a pair of wire cutters, [deleted rank title] Eli Slater leaned out into the darkness as far as he could, clipped the wires and climbed down the pole into war’s coming fury.

See comments here.

Arturo crouched in the dark sewer tunnel, wet to the skin and wondering, for the hundredth time, whether he was doing the right thing. The smell was overpowering, an unrelenting combination of sewage and decomposing fish, (I agree with the comment that asked why the sewer would smell like fish? I’ve never been in a sewer, so maybe I’m missing something…?) which literally brought tears to his eyes. In one hand he held a picture of his wife and two young daughters, taken last Christmas. His other hand drifted to his side, unconsciously feeling for the tumor that he knew was there. (New paragraph) Grimacing in pain, he (Arturo) readjusted (adujsted) the backpack on his shoulders and gathered himself. He knew what he was doing was wrong. This was insane. The five cellophane-wrapped bundles of marijuana on his back could not save him and his family. But he didn’t know what else to do. He thought about turning back. On one side of the tunnel was Mexico, his home. The other side of the tunnel was the United States, jail and free surgery. (New paragraph) “It won’t be too bad”, he tried to convince himself. “I’ll be home in a year.” (You only get one year for drug smuggling and illegal immigration? And how does he know he’ll go to jail, and not simply be deported?) He sat motionless, poised between two futures. With his heart hammering in his chest, he said a final silent prayer, not expecting an answer.

Critique: Now that’s interesting–I knew people immigrated to the US for health care, but I didn’t realize they’d try to get arrested so they could have surgery. Good sense of place. Strong sensory cues. I’m curious as to where it goes from here.

Would I ask for more? Depends on the genre. If it was suspense, maybe. If it was a conversion story, no.

Maybe, if I had known from the beginning Samantha was a ghost, I never would have entered the house on Amaranth Lane. (Good) But if I had not gone into the house I would never have experienced the next part of my life which, for now, involves telling Samatha’s story.(Weak) Sure, I know some will never want to hear it, ghosts frighten most people.(Weak) They don’t want anything to do with their dead. That’s why they bury them and walk away from the cemetery. (Strong) I was even told once it’s not natural to live with a ghost in your house. But now, after meeting Samatha, I think maybe it’s not natural to live in a ghostless house. (Good concept; rewrite the sentences)

(End your paragraph here and delete everything after this. You’re telling us too much. Let it come out more slowly. Don’t tell us what this story is going to teach us. Show us as it evolves.) So I’m going to share her story–not because it’s about a six-year-old girl who died before she wanted to, but because it’s a story about all of us who never quite know how to live while we have time. Samatha taught me that. She taught me a lot of things, including how close we really are to the dead yet we’re too frightened to open our eyes and see them. Most of all, she taught me how death can make you feel…alive.

Critique: Intriguing idea. Writing needs to be tightened up.

Would I ask for more? I’d tell you to rewrite and resubmit.

At one o’clock in the morning, Nicole Madison sped toward Park City, squinted at the yellow lines dotting the middle of the road, and tried to stay to the right of them. They kept disappearing. Hmm. Okay. It was entirely possible that she was drunk. She widened her eyes and tried to concentrate on those lines. If she could just get home, she’d go to bed and stay there as long as possible. Before she started feeling sorry for herself. Again.

Critique: I liked this one. It made the first cut. The reason it didn’t make it to the finals is I felt just a little distant from Nicole and her situation. It didn’t pull me in, but allowed me to stay at arm’s length.

Would I ask for more? Depending on the strength of the rest of the submission, I’d probably ask for a partial.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” said one of the boys as they passed by. (Why would they tell her to go to sleep? That seems out of place.) She looked like a cornered animal, ready to strike out at anything that came close to her. Denise noticed the girl because she had shared a class with her in high school. Denise thought her name was Amy. (New paragraph) Crouched on the ground with her back against a large stone, Amy had beads of sweat on her forehead. Her hair was matted and dirty, like she had been rolling in the dirt. She was crying and clutching her jacket as if it were her lifeline. (was she wearing the jacket or just holding it?) Her eyes were wide open, she was frightened by something Denise couldn’t see (sentence structure). Feeling sorry for Amy, Denise kneeled down next her to try and help. Amy turned and glared at Denise as if she were waiting for an attack. Denise carefully stretched out her arm and touched Amy’s cheek to wipe away a tear. The action was met with a shriek and a backward lunge that caused Amy to bang her head on the rock.

Critique: Watch your grammar and sentence structure. This is a little choppy. You jump from the boys, to Denise, to Amy, back to Denise, back to Amy. It didn’t feel smooth to me. You might consider changing to a first person POV with Denise. ??

Would I ask for more? No. It just didn’t speak to me. Sorry.