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Jmorgan's profile
AGE:
25
LOC: Sterrett, AL
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: April 13
LOC: Sterrett, AL
GEN: Female
LAST LOGIN: April 13
So here I am finally writing my first novel. I’ve been starting and stopping novels since the age of ten, and I finally have a peice of work that’s come complete with it’s own plot, characters, and shows promise, (I think). I also write poetry, some of which I may reveal here. Please give constructive criticism.
Items
Version 1
8 Reviews
3 Comments
It was early when the phone rang, waking me from another Tsunami dream. “Hello” I groggily mumbled into the phone “Cecily” “Yeah” “It’s Beth , we need you to come over” “Now?” “Yes” “Yeah of course just let me throw some clothes on. Is everything o.k?” “I think it would be best if you just come over” “Yeah o.k., I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” Ten minutes later I was pulling up the driveway to their six bedroom tudor. Despite the fact that I had made it there in record time, it had be...
Version 1
1 Review
0 Comments
Annabelle was not a normal eleven year old girl. She didn’t like to sit and play with dolls, and she didn’t like to play house. She didn’t like to play with makeup and pretty things, and she absolutely refused to put on anything with lace. Even though her mother had filled her closet with them. Annabelle also didn’t like all the boy things either. She didn’t like to play video games, she couldn’t sit still that long. She didn’t like action figures, because she knew they were the same thing as...
Version 1
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Hot, humid summer dusk Where only the slightest wind blows Such fond memories do I have of nights such as this Sitting carelessly on open patio’s Chatting with friends of old Around iron tables clothed In empty glasses and stark naked bottles I remember laughter Beautiful and clear In those moments everything seemed so real There was no tomorrow Yesterday but a dream This world littered with lovers and friends Traffic bustles by A river of people chasing dreams As the willing let go of time A...
Version 1
1 Review
0 Comments
We should lie in the park together Like lovers so often do Watch the world go by Underneath the magnolia tree Or perhaps we shall dance Barefoot in the park My skirt flowing to the rhythm of my hips As your brown eyes shimmy down my landscape I will fall in love with you all over again Our laughter will be the beat to birdsong Earthspeak My hands will run across the forest of your soft brown plumage You’ll know my love for you then The sun shall set but we will not hear his call Deafened by t...
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Reviews
The concept is there, but it needs some fine tuning. If I had not known what you were talking about then I would not have been able to guess at the point. I know I've been guilty of thinking i can't edit and re-tune some of my poetry, but alot of times it helps. Like I said the concept and the talent is there and i think with time it could be really good.
First of all let me say that I think this is one of the best peices I've read on the site thus far. It drew me in automatically. With the stark constrast of the long shadowy hall, against white robes. You paint the picture perfectly and your writing is either a natural gift, or you've spent a lot of time perfecting it. The bar scene is good. Especially the line, "But never too broke for a good drink". It so lightly touches on an adult theme of distraction from the hopelessness of life. Also t...
First of all you reveal far too much in your first paragraph. Leave some mystery for the reader to explore. It is essential to grab the attention of the reader in those first few sentences, you've told us your whole story. You place so much emphaisis on the characters actions we loose sight of who she is. It's a lot to take in. I would suggest that you place in more dialogue, even if it's with herself or a pet. Watch your usage of past/present tense. In the sentence, "who had accepted me for ...
Startling imagery. The idea that we in one way or another ingest the death of each other. People accidently swallow sea water, or children get sand in their mouth. It makes me think of a time in my life when the crematorium next to an old work place was raining ash on my car. Which is the point of good poetry. To make us re-live our own memories and delve deeper into our minds and perception. Kudos.
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