Tag: Uncategorized

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.

“Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.” Typing furiously, James Ralston smiled at his computer screen and continued whispering to himself. “Someone is going to jail, and someone else is finally going to get some recognition around here.” Maybe.

Critique: Hmm. There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just too short. There is not enough information here to generate an opinion. While it may be fine as the first paragraph of a full chapter, the length is a definite disadvantage for this contest.

Would I ask for more? Depends on the strength of the query, synopsis and the other paragraphs sent with it.

The young man woke with a start (cliche) and lay tense, listening, wondering what had roused him. Everything was quiet. The third story windows (where? in his room?) were closed against the chill autumn air, against the snow flurries predicted by the nurses, effectively shutting out sound. He studied the darkness beyond the lace curtains. But even if (don’t start a sentence with “but even if”) the panes were open he doubted he’d hear any noise since the hospital was perched on the mountain and so far from the red light district. (awkward sentence) Decent folk living nearby were tucked into bed at this hour. (Good, this tells us a lot.) He relaxed and moved his head slowly, very slowly, toward the new-fangled electric light spilling up the stairs. (huh? what stairs?) He was glad for the light. Working the silver mines by day meant he’d spent most of his life in darkness. Had his dreams wakened him? He couldn’t remember. How was he supposed to remember dreams of the dark?

Critique: Tighten up your sentence structure. Give us more intensity. Intriguing last sentence.

Would I ask for more? Probably not. Needs to be tighter. Needs to have a stronger hook.

Kylee pulled her knees tighter into her chest and tightened the grip of her arms around them. The cold of the cement she sat on was creeping through her worn jeans, chilling her flesh. How had she gotten herself into this mess? What was she going to do now? (Move these questions…) Cold was seeping through the worn-out tennis shoes as well. Her socks had too many holes in them to hold any of it (define “it”) out. (…here.) (New paragraph) A snow began to fall, gently drifting (be more descriptive; “gently drifting” tells us. Use the senses to show us) onto her hunched shoulders. A car pulled into the parking lot (what parking lot? tie it back to Kylee; also, if the doesn’t stop because of her, it should just pass on by), its headlights playing across the side of Kylee’s bent head. Kylee didn’t notice it. She remained in her hunched position, shivering. Where could she go? She had nothing anymore. Her car had broken down finally on the freeway several miles away and she had managed to walk this far but could go no further. This rest stop, somewhere outside of Flagstaff, Arizona, was her last stop (stop/stop–delete one).

Critique: You start well, but then it weakens. The last sentence is okay, but could be much more powerful. The paragraph does start me asking questions–What’s going on with the car? Who’s in it? Why is she running away? –and that’s good, but it’s not strong enough to keep me asking them.

Would I ask for more? Depends on the query and synopsis that came with this paragraph. How old is she? That would be key for me. If I was having a patient day and the Q & S were good, yes, I might ask for more. But if I had a whole stack of submissions to get through and it was already a frustrating day, no I might not.

I bet you thought I forgot I was commenting on contracts. No. I was just putting it off as long as I could because it’s boring to write about.

Subsidiary rights are the the rights to use/sell the work in a format other than standard print form. They can include:

• audio books (may be covered in geographical rights)
• foreign language or sales (may be covered in geographical rights)
• serialization (newspaper, magazine)
• digests or abridgments
• anthology or other collections
• licensing into greeting cards, coloring books, characters, dolls, stuffed animals, t-shirts, lunch boxes, etc.
• movies, video games, board games
• special editions for book clubs, Braille, etc.

New subsidiary rights are popping up all the time. Your publisher will probably list as many as they can think of in the initial contract offer. The reason being, they want to control the quality of all products that will be associated with your book, and also because they want to make more money. Nothing wrong with either of those.

Whether or not you let them have these rights as part of the regular contract is up to you. Some publishers absolutely want all of them. Others will negotiate. Some won’t ask for any.

What you need to look at in considering which subsidiary rights you allow them to have is:
1. How likely are they to exercise those rights?
2. How likely would it be that anyone else would want to buy these rights?

If your publisher is unlikely to option these rights themselves, you might want to keep them. Or if you don’t care about certain rights, go ahead and give them up. You’re not likely to get a better deal (as in, more money) by doing this, but your publisher may have contacts that would be difficult for you to make, and they might be able to sell the options on those rights.

If you do let your publisher have subsidiary rights, make sure your contract includes what and how and when you will be paid if they exercise and/or sell those rights. If they exercise those rights themselves, they will be covered by some sort of royalty payment. If they sell the rights to a third party, the proceeds are usually split on a percentage basis after expenses. I’ve seen everything from 80 publisher/20 author (which I would never agree to, if I were the author) to 50/50 (which is much more common).

Julia licked a mouthful of cream cheese off a toasted bagel as she read the front page of the Salt Lake Tribune. A Brachman’s bagel with extra cream cheese was what she thought about at five o’clock each morning as her alarm blared. It’s what compelled her to get out of bed and hurry into the solitary law office where she read the newspaper and watched the early morning news as she waited for her co-workers to slowly make their entrances. (This whole section slows down the story line. The information it gives us is misplaced because we don’t care about Julia and her bagel compulsion yet.) Julia put the paper down as the local news on the television caught her attention. ‘More details are coming to light about last week’s murder on the University of Utah campus. The body of the Lady Utes’ basketball player, Avery Thomas, was found last Monday afternoon in the women’s locker room. Starting power forward for the Utes, Mick Webber, was arraigned yesterday for the murder. The couple was engaged, and this is the reason many are finding this heinous crime hard to believe.’ (Needs something here–her thoughts, internal dialogue–some type of response from Julia.)

Critique: Cut the bagel obsession and get on with the action.

Would I ask for more? Not based on this one paragraph. However, in a real submission, where you had several paragraphs to entice me, Julia’s response to what she’s just heard would determine whether or not I asked for more.

Everyone is invited to participate in this contest–unpublished authors, published authors, previous contest winners. Published authors do not necessarily have an advantage here. I’ve seen brilliant stuff by first time writers and incoherent passages by authors who have several books.

One paragraph only. Multiple paragraphs will be disqualified. If you have two or three very short paragraphs that start your story, you may choose to run them all together and maybe no one will notice.

A crashing, thumping noise woke Jen Elliot from a sound sleep. Someone had broken down the front door her brand new house! (You’re telling us too much here. If she’s sound asleep and disoriented, she wouldn’t quite know what had happened.) She screamed! Couldn’t help it. Jumping up, she ran around her bed, but disoriented, fell to the floor and painfully (no) banged her knee. (Awkward sentence structure.) Reaching a hand out in the pitch darkness, she encountered the dresser, oriented herself, and crawled to the bedroom door and locked it. She flipped on her bedroom light (not a smart move; not really believable) and squinted desperately (find a different adverb) for her cell phone which she quickly (no) realized was out in the living room charging. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Critique: Watch your adverbs (-ly words). Avoid those when possible. Too many exclamation points. Those should be treasured and given out grudgingly. Starting your book with someone breaking into your home in the middle of the night is a good idea, but you are telling us about this event. We need to be there, to see it, hear it, feel it. I like the stupid, stupid, stupid. Get more of that internal dialogue going.

Would I ask for more? No. You need more practice developing depth and putting the reader into the scene.

Note to everyone: Practice is the key. I don’t believe writing is an art. I believe it is a skill. Some of us may have more natural ability than others, but all of us improve with practice.

When you get rejected or negative feedback, don’t give up–just practice more. Mary Englebreit (illustrator) says that as a child, she traced pictures over and over again. This helped her learn the muscle coordination she needed to draw as well as she does. Writing can be improved using similar techniques.

Find a passage in a book that you really like. Type it up. Then rewrite it, inserting your characters. Write it again, inserting different adjectives and adverbs. Write it again, replacing the action in the paragraph with some of your own. Write it again, changing the dialogue to match your scene. Then compare your final paragraph with the original. Does it have the same intensity? The same feel? If not, what did you do that lessened it?

Keep practicing. Notice good writing when you read it and examine it–what makes it work? Then practice writing using that same technique. Once you’ve learned a variety of techiniques, and can recognize and understand what makes a passage great, you’ll be able to blend these techniques and styles to create something uniquely your own.

Renee pushed the piles of books, scriptures, games, and Legos to one side so that the government agent could get through (where? Need a little more sense of place) and sit down on the couch. If she’d known he were coming, she would have cleaned up. Or maybe not. Soon after her husband’s funeral, she’d reverted to her original personality of doing things when she darn well felt like them, and not on strict, German hausfrau-type schedules. Anyway, who expected the CIA to show up on their (they who? Renee?) doorstep twenty years after they’d left America? (New paragraph) Sitting down across from Agent Rossmann, Renee took a closer look at him. He resembled Bill Gates more than a CIA agent – not that she knew what a typical agent should look like. For some reason, she was tempted to offer eight cows to his mother and hope he’d morph from a geek into a movie star right before her eyes. (funny) Or did the change only come after marriage? Realizing that she had started to search his fingers for a ring, Renee lifted her eyes back to his face and waited for him to tell her why he was there.

Critique: Fill us in a little more on the surroundings.

Would I ask for more? This is hard to say because rarely do I only get to read one paragraph and usually there’s a synopsis. This one gets a qualified Maybe. If the query was good and the second and third paragraph were good or better, I might ask for a partial–especially if this is going to be a romantic suspense and the humor carries through.

Stacy’s (some type of descriptor that indicates wet) blue jeans still (delete “still”; rarely is it needed) clung to her legs around the knees. The bathroom floor was finally (delete finally) mopped and the toys put away. Now she fought angrily (don’t tell us this; show us by describing her actions)with her stupid wet pants as she tried to (passive) pick up various pieces of small clothing strewn up and down the hall. (New paragraph) “That’s it,” she thought, “I’ve got to remember to change into my junky shorts BEFORE the kids get their bath. Man, I’m never gonna…” (needs transition; drop “but suddenly”) but suddenly, a little (a whimper is little; redundant) whimper of distress caught Stacy’s ear. She stood still for a moment, then her eyes darted towards a closed bedroom door as she heard the whimpering again, coupled with a different sound — giggles. “Oh dear,” she rolled her eyes as she marched to the door. “This is not going to be good.” (If I heard whimpering and giggling, I wouldn’t roll my eyes. That’s mild exasperation. I’d be off to save whoever is whimpering, and fur would fly. Also, I need some type of cue as to what she’s going to find. Sibling teasing? Or torture?)

Critique: Watch out for passive voice and clear transitions. It’s much better to show us that she’s frustrated, angry, whatever by describing what her body is doing, rather than telling us what she is feeling.

Would I ask for more? No. But I might read a few more paragraphs.