yeah, this really isn’t a romance. Remember the earlier thing you read, with the pope that referenced choir songs (you read that I think?) anyway thanks. In the rest of the book they abandon “Camp Rock” (do you think I should just go ahead and change it to Castle Rock?) and try to overthrown the pope. to whom you haven’t been introduced to yet.
Novel Treatments / The End Times- Prolouge (Analysis)
It seemed to Joan Plummer that the year of 2005 was just one long moment of bliss. It was New Years Eve, December 31, 2004. Joan’s family was having a party at her grandmother’s house to celebrate the New Year. Everyone had eaten their chili and was sitting quietly in the living room watching T.V. On the couch were her younger cousins, asleep, still wearing their party hats. Joan stood at the doorway to the room, the only open spot. For several minutes she lost herself staring into space, so that when she felt the touch of hand around her waist she jumped automatically and nearly screamed. “Let’s get out of here, babe, don’t think anyone will notice,” a tender whisper told her. She turned around to see George Swann, the love of her life behind her. He tried to quiet his emotions, but Joan could see that behind his serious face, his eyes were bright and smiling. Something was up.
He offered her his hand and when she took it wistfully pulled her away from her family. They silently crept out of the back door, through the back gate and up onto the walking trail on the dike next to the river.
“I thought your family was making you go with them to Spokane…,” she started.
“They did. I said hello to my relatives and then hopped on the first flight back.” He grabbed her hand once again and stroked her brown-black hair. “I didn’t want to miss the holidays with you.”
“Any particular reason why you’ve come back?” Joan pondered aloud.
“You’ll see,” he said blissfully.
“Any particular reason why you had to pull me out without saying hello to my family? You know my grandmother loves you. I think if you weren’t taken she would try to date you.”
“I’ll say hello to her later. I wanted them to be just as surprised as you.” The night was cold and dark, but by a miracle the sky was perfectly clear. Not only was it not raining, there was not a single cloud visible. All above them was a blanket of stars and a quarter moon.
“About…?”
“Come with me.” George grabbed her hand once again and led her off the main trail, to a little dirt path through the Scotch Brooms. In front of her were the quickly flowing river and their favorite little patch of beach. Upon the quaint sand bank were a large blanket, a small radio, a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a single flickering candle. “Our own private New Year’s Eve Party,” he explained, sitting down on the blanket.
They sat for a while, watching the stars. He popped open the bottle of champagne and poured her a glass. It wasn’t the first alcohol she’d had, but she still was nervous sipping it, knowing that her mother was only a minute’s walk away. Her mother had been furious when she had been caught driving her friend around before her six months restrictions on her driver’s license was up, a secondary offense, but she knew that she would face a freak out like one she had never seen before if she was caught drinking.
He pressed the on button on the radio, flipping it to his favorite station- 107.1- rock from the eighties, nineties and whatever. Then, he pressed his mouth on hers, the kiss of a lover who had been away for far too long. “I have an atomic clock sitting on my desk folks, and right now the time reads 11:59:02. Fifty seconds to the New Year. Get your party hats on, we’re almost there,” the voice on the radio said, with a believable fake enthusiasm. Joan ran her hand over the back pocket of George’s jeans. There was something hard in it, something metal and ring shaped. Could it be? Could he be proposing now?
They had talked about marriage many times before. Joan had always wanted to go a university, see the world, and then come back and get married. George always wanted the more traditional route, get married right out of high school, get a job, have some kids, repeat. He had been out of school for nearly a year, and she had less than six months left. They had agreed that someday they wanted to get married. But to Joan, that someday still seemed too far in the future for a ring.
But times were changing for the both of them. George had just got the perfect job, and he was building a house for them right there in Camp Rock, only three minutes away from her parents and five minutes from his. Pretty soon, whether she liked it or not Joan was going to be an adult and she didn’t know if she was ready for it. She knew that there was a ring in his back pocket and she knew that it was meant for her, the knot that would tie their futures together permanently.
“It is a beautiful night,” Joan commented, peering out into the quiet, empty space in front of her.
“There is nothing more beautiful then what I am looking at right now,” George replied with a hungry smile.
“If you were any sweeter you’d be made out of corn syrup.” Joan laid her head on George’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She wanted to remember this moment forever.
“Thirty seconds,” the DJ on the radio continued, “thirty seconds ‘til we can kiss 2004 away and welcome 2005, only half a minute- actually now only twenty five seconds, twenty five short seconds until it reaches midnight.”
“Joey?” George whispered in her ear, “I have something important to ask you.”
Joan lifted her head until his eyes met hers. He smoothly maneuvered his hand to pull the ring out of his back pocket and held it before her.
“Twenty seconds”
“I’d go down on one knee if you weren’t laying on top of me,” he commented with a chuckle, and then his voice became a soft, serious whisper straight into her ear. “Joan Meredith Plummer, I am in debt to you. You have done something for me that no other human has every done before- love me unconditionally. In your arms I have found true love and my greatest joy.”
“Ten, nine, eight…”
“I want- I need- you to stay by my side forever,” for the first time she could remember, George was truly scarred. He was quivering, so un-George like. He had abandoned his tough exterior to say what he really thought.
“Seven, six, five, four…”
“So Joey, my lovely Joey,” he put his hand gently on her cheek, and she put her hand on top of his lovingly.
“Three, two, one. Happy New Year!”
“Would you do me the honor of being my bride?” His eyes met hers for one single, terrifying second. Then an amorous smile grew on her lips.
“Of course, my love, of course. Did you even need to ask?” He wiped the sweat off of his forehead and gave a deep sigh of relief. With a lover’s smile exactly matching Joans’s he slipped the ring around her finger. Above them, fireworks went off with bangs, booms, and whistles. Each firework lit up the diamond of the ring in a different color, and the light bounced off it at just that angle that made it seem to glow by itself.
“That is what I thought you would say.” George chuckled, leaning in for a kiss.
“What better way to start off the New Year, but with grand auld tradition?” the radio DJ had abandoned his fake enthusiasm and now sounded quite depressed and drunk. “Here is the Beach Boys with ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Sing along everyone.”
In March Joan got the letter. When she pulled into her driveway on that rainy Spring Tuesday she absentmindedly went to go pull the garbage can back next to the house from the side of the street, but first she went to go get the mail. She looked both ways down the rural road and then stepped out, squinting her eyes and tilting her head so that the rain would not reach her face. It must be an inborn quality, she thought, because it seems that all Washingtonians innately know the right angle to tilt their head for different type of rain.
She pulled open the mailbox and reached her hand deep inside. She appreciated the fact that the mail lady did not want the mail to get wet, but was it really necessary to shove everything into the very back corner? There was a large wad of mail. Her sister’s Seventeen, junk, bill, junk, some Catholic liberal arts college in the middle of nowhere that keeps sending her stuff, Longshoremen’s Union newsletter- and there, the very last item in the pile, was the letter. It was in an indiscreet white envelope with nothing to declare its importance but the single purple and gold monogram in the corner “UW”. When she saw it she nearly screamed, abandoned the garbage can, and opened it right there in the middle of the road in the pouring rain.
“Dear Miss Plummer, we are pleased to write that you have been accepted to the University of Washington….”
Her dream had come true- she was going to the University of Washington, and with a very generous scholarship no less. All her life she had dreamed of going to the big city and becoming a political journalist. All her life she wanted to be a Husky, to wear the purple and gold, to look out of her dorm and see Lake Washington. All her life she wanted to leave the little town of Camp Rock, Washington and have a life away from the subsidized school lunches, high school football games, and benightedness that exemplified her small town.
There was only one small glitch in her plans; what she was going to do about George. She loved him. She loved him with every quark and gluon of her being. But she knew somewhere, deep down in her soul, that if one of them wanted to live their life they way they wanted to, the other would have to compromise. He loved Camp Rock. He loved to hunt and fish and to help with the high school wrestling team. He loved the simple life with a simple job, a simple outlook on life, and a simple salary to match.
But she wanted more out of life. She wanted to walk the streets of London. She wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera onstage at Her Majesty’s theatre. In her dreams she had a staring contest with the Mona Lisa and climbed the stairs to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She wanted out of this place, which unfortunately was the same place that was the very center of George’s being. With out Camp Rock, he would no be the George he was today, the George she loved. He had never wanted to take part in anything outside of the tight box that was the culture of Camp Rock.
She needed to tell George she was going to the University. There was no if about it. She was going. When she applied she explained it away by saying “oh, I probably won’t get in, no one from Camp Rock ever gets into a four year school. It’s just a long shot.” Long shot her ass. She knew that the reason no one from Camp Rock got into a big school was because they weren’t ambitious to even apply. They just wanted to be like George and get out of school as soon as they could and never have to do math or any thing ‘hard’ again. What they really did was subject themselves to lives full of hard labor and hardships.
She knew that when she told him it would break his heart. He was building a house for them, they had just put in the plumbing last weekend. They had dreams of them together, and life with Joan was everything that he knew and wanted. They had planned to raise their family and grow old together in that house. They had planned to get married in June, at the base of Mt. St. Helens, and then have the reception at their new house. All of this was too much for her. She needed room to go out on her own. She hadn’t even graduated high school yet and she found her life planned out for her before her eyes.
That night George called. George always called at the same time every night, and usually Joan looked forward to releasing onto him the woes of her day. Today she dreaded the call. She had told everyone else the news of her acceptance with unhidden glee, but the thought of telling George brought heartache to her mind.
“Hi, honey, how are you today?” he cooed cheerfully.
“Uh, pretty good, how about George, how is George today?” Joan said nervously.
“Joey, are you okay?” His tone change to one of concern.
“Fine, perfectly fine. Why would you ask?” She murmured.
“You sound like something if wrong, besides, you only speak in third person when something is wrong.”
“George, you know me too well. I want to talk to you, alone. Meet you at the coffee place, eight o’clock,” she said anxiously.
“Fifteen minutes? It’s that important? And since when do you drink coffee?” Joan could see him on the other end, sitting on his bed, bolting up suddenly out of concern.
“I don’t drink coffee. See you in fifteen minutes.” She pushed the talk button on her phone and put it back in the kitchen. “Mom, George and I are going out for coffee!” Joan screamed into the open space of her house while she looked for her sweatshirt.
“Since when do you drink coffee?” her mother replied from the living room.
“I don’t” Joan remarked, flipping through her dirty clothes form that idiotic, moronic, missing sweatshirt.
“Well then where are you really going? You know that if you aren’t being completely honest with me I’ll find out eventually.”
“Kind of busy, Mom.” Joan yelled back at her mother, getting frustrated at her missing sweatshirt.
“Your sweatshirt is in here, Joany.”
“Thank you mother.” Joan stormed out of her room, put on her shoes and grabbed her purse.
“Tell me where you are going and what you are doing. I want to truth,” her mother continued forcefully.
“Fine; me and George are going to go have hot sex under the bridge and then go shoot up on some meth,” Joan replied tartly. It was almost eight- she didn’t want to be late, not for this.
“Well I should hope not, have you not seen the weather? And you know that your father and I approve of neither of those behaviors. You would get out the door quicker if you told me what you were doing. Also, I would not like you to speak of such things in front of your sister, she is impressionable.” Joan’s mother answered insistently.
“I’m fifteen,” Joan’s sister Stephanie replied.
“I’m going to get coffee with George.” Joan repeated.
“Joan Meredith Plummer, you better not leave without telling me where you are going, and on a school night, no less!” Her mother called after her as she walked out the door.
“Maryam, just let her go.” Joan’s father said softly, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulders. “It’s Joan; she won’t get into any trouble.”
Before her mother could protest any more Joan had already pulled her beat up old car out of the driveway. The rain poured down from the heavens as it had from the past week and a half- and it seemed to be getting worse. As she cautiously drove across the bridge to get to the coffee place, Joan noticed that the river’s brown water was nearly to the top of its course. Any more rain, and there would most certainly be more, would make the river flood. Even if the river doesn’t floods the parking lot at school will sure be a lake, no school. It will give me time to get over this, Joan thought.
When she turned into the coffee shop, she saw nothing but a dark closed store and a red truck parked in front of it. George was sitting in his truck, waiting for her. The engine was idling, and the heat was turned on full blast. When she opened the door a warm, dry breeze hit her, making her wet, cold self instantly more comfortable with her surroundings. She climbed into the passenger seat at sat beside him, as she had done many times before.
So many memories in this truck. Her and George’s first date, when she was sixteen and he was seventeen, they had gone to the prom together and he had picked her up in this truck. In her mind, she laughed, remembered trying to climb up into the seat in a huge red dress and almost-stiletto high heels. She kept cursing George in her head for not holding her hand and wanting to sit instead of dance most of the night. All the way home she looked forward to a goodnight kiss from her new boyfriend, and when they got back to her house he walked her to the porch- and hugged her. This was the truck that George took her in to the Mexican border last summer, all the way to the end of I-5 just to see what was there.
Now she sat in his truck for the last time. With a sigh she pulled the acceptance letter out of her purse. “I got in,” she whispered, even though she knew what he would say, she could not help but say those words with a smile.
“So are you going to go?” George asked saturninely, fingering the paper envelope.
“Yes, it is a dream come true. Finally, I can get out of here,” Joan sighed
“And what about us, the wedding, the house? What am I supposed to do if my wife is in Seattle?”
“We can put the wedding off. I’m eighteen, you’re nineteen. By the time I’m out of college we’ll be twenty-two and twenty-three, there’ll still be plenty of time for the house, marriage, and children,” Joan gently added, putting her hand on his tense arm.
“There aren’t any jobs in Camp Rock for a college graduate unless you’re going into teaching. We’ll have to move and sell the house. What would I do for job in a city? There you either work fast food or go to college.” He pushed her hand off of his arm. Rarely did he ever get angry. This might be one of those times.
“I need this George; I need to do something with myself. With the scholarship they are giving me they are particularly handing me a future and telling me to make something of myself. Nowhere and no one in Camp Rock is ever going to give me that kind of opportunity.”
“Then I’m sorry Joey, you either get the world or you get me.” George gave her the ultimatum with a cold and emotionless voice. His eyes betrayed his thoughts, quivering, afraid, and enraged more then he could ever remember. There was just a hint of a tear in the corner of his eye, truly displaying his emotional confusion. With those words Joan’s heart shattered like hot glass under cold water. Everything she had known so far in life had just slipped right through her fingers like little grains of sand, gone forever, impossible to retrieve.
“I have to take my future, and if that future is without you, then so be it,” Joan said with the all strength she could muster.
She pushed the door handle open, and when the huge, freezing rain drops hit her, she could not help but smile. No more lying about what she wanted. No more being stuck in the small town way for thinking. Her mind was free, her future was free, and the finger that once held her engagement ring was free. Free; free at last, praise God, free at last! Praise Allah! Praise Jehovah! Praise the many handed Shiva and the fat Buddha! Praise to all, she was free; free at last!
June brought the moment that Joan had been eagerly awaiting for the entirety of her life- high school graduation. All those daydreams about college, about leaving this place, this horrible, repressing place, and now, in the one moment she wanted, she found that she was not only leaving behind all the horrible things about Camp Rock High School, but that the school had become part of her. She had felt like everything she had done before this moment had been here, at Camp Rock.
From the early morning test make-ups to the softball away trips that got lord only knows when, there had been many times that Joan spent more time at the high school than at her home. Her classmates were her family. Her teachers knew her better than she knew herself at sometimes. She never knew that this had been such a large part of her life until it was over. On her last day at school Joan bawled, and then she stayed around until school was over even though she could leave after third period finals. In fact, she had slept in on the Friday that she was graduating, found that she had the day off work, and became bored enough that she went to school just because she could. Joan, the salutatorian, who wanted to spend her life in Seattle now didn’t want to leave Camp Rock.
The ceremony started at seven, but at six o’clock the parking lot was already completely filled and people were starting to park on the front lawn. The entire 1,500 person football stadium and several hundred chairs on the track were filled and it was standing room only. The number of people there was almost equal to the population of Camp Rock itself.
In the gym, the graduates were anxious. So few people were there; somehow their 120 person class had been reduced to 90. Joan’s friends crowed together in one group. Gossiping about who was not graduating and what trifling atrocity had caused such. They Adjusted their hair and makeup, and vowed not to cry, knowing full well that they would anyway. Then the principal came in. She made them lift up their gowns to ensure that everyone had on clothes underneath- there had been a streaker last year- and told them how proud of them she was. Now they were all lined up in the correct order they had practiced yesterday. From the stadium the sound of the band playing “Fiddler on the Roof” for the crowed who was eagerly waiting for the ceremony to start.
“Let’s go,” one of her teachers said, and she followed the line of fellow graduates through the crowed parking lot and onto the stadium. The band played “Pomp and Circumstance” as they all filed in slowly.
The ceremony had gone by all too quickly. Her speech was executed as flawlessly as it had been every time she had practiced it. Then came the big moment. Diploma in one had and tassel in the other, the principal stood in front of them and said “you may now move your tassels, you are officially graduated.” Silly string soon covered the new graduates and when the band started to play “Coronation March” and the row in front of her stood up to walk out she knew that the ceremony was over; it- Camp Rock, everything that high school had been- was all over.
George had been there, clapping her on, as well as cheering loudly for his new girlfriend, Samantha Green, who wouldn’t go into the big bad city and leave him at home pining. She didn’t blame herself for their breakup- George had made the choice for her. He didn’t want her if she wanted that thing which no proper Camp Rock resident was meant to have, an education beyond the doors of the high school. If she wanted to see the world, then she would see him no longer. With his ultimatum, he broke her heart, just as his heart had been broken when she answered it. No house, no children, no future Mrs. Joan Swann; she had wanted to keep her name anyway.
From the minuscule pieces of her broken heart, her new life formed. She was eighteen, single, and had many happy travels ahead of her. She could go anywhere she wanted to go. The world was her oyster. When her name was called she was rid of this part of her life forever. Ignorance- be gone, intolerance- away; for no longer did Joan Plummer’s mind belong to Camp Rock. No more did it care for the proper things and the way that the world should be; for now, it was a citizen of the world, open to whatever may strike its fancy and able to see the world in a whole new light.
Why did she feel sad along with the bliss?
Finally September 2, 2005 came, the day that she was finally going to move into her new dorm room at UW. The building was exactly like the one she had seen when she had taken a tour, it was new looking and in the middle of the city, in stark contrast to the beautiful gothic buildings in the center of campus where she had classes. Her parents had come to help her move in, but they were still in the car, putting all junk that had fallen out of boxes during the trip back into their proper place. Alone, with a single box marked Books-Rice/Rowling/Pierce/Non-fic, she opened up the door approached the receptionist.
“Yes?” the frazzled woman said, poking her head up from a mountain of paperwork.
“I’m here to register for my dorm, my name is Joan Plummer.” Joan shifted her box of books awkwardly from one hip to the other while the woman behind the desk shuffled through a stack of papers that seem to have no coherent order.
“Ah, here it is.” She pulled out a thick manila envelope and went to the wall behind her to get a key. “Sign here,” she opened the folder and pulled out the top sheet. “And here. Here is your room key, and welcome to the University of Washington”
Joan took her room key and held it her hand. Finally a place she could call home. A place where her parents couldn’t say “it’s my house so you better keep it clean,” a place that was her own; well not entirely her own. She had a roommate- M. Rosenblatt, who was also a freshman. The elevator door had a sign on it- “Out of service. The Elevator guy will be here on Monday”. Move in weekend should be fun. She abandoned the elevator and moved to find the stairwells, which turned out to be at the very end of the large building. Logical, I suppose.
Luckily her room was only on the third floor. She carefully climbed each one of the grey concrete steps in the grey concrete shaft. When she finally reached the third floor and opened heavy door, all she could see was an empty hallway that seemed like it would be better placed in the first chapter in a Stephen King book- the part where the unsuspecting person wanders into a seemingly harmless place that isn’t very well lit, and then out of nowhere the monster eats her and no one knows what happened; then cut to the unsuspecting main character. Joan wandered down the hallway without seeing a single person. There were lights under some doors, and some were ajar, but no people.
“Three thirteen, three fifteen, three seventeen,” she muttered under her breath, looking down at the now crumpled paper in her hand. Silently she approached her room, and placed the key in the lock.
“Oh thank god you’re here!” A voice came from directly behind her.
“AHH!” Joan creamed at the top of her lungs. Instantaneously she dropped her books and turned around. She found that she was facing a young, tall, skinny woman with brown blond curls and a purple sundress. Her heart was beating so hard that she was surprised that she could not see it. Suddenly all up and down the hall doors popped open and many people poked their heads out.
“I’m fine. Just a little startled,” Joan assured her new floor mates, who nodded and waved before they stuck their heads back inside of their doors.
“I’m so sorry, I locked the key in the room when I went to go get more boxes, or at least I think I did, I may have lost it on the way here, but I looked everywhere from here to my car, and I couldn’t find them, so I have been waiting here for three hours, I think I might have drifted off a bit and then you woke me up when you put the key in the door…-,” the woman spoke quickly with a strangely optimistic voice. “Name’s Marty, by the way, Martina Rosenblatt.”
“Joan Plummer,” Joan replied meekly, taking Martina’s eagerly stretched out hand. “I’m from Camp Rock, near Mt. St. Helens.”
“You plan on going back?” Martina asked as Joan picked her key up off the floor and put it in the lock. She faltered for a moment before she answered.
“Hell no,” she replied resolutely.
“Well then you’re a Seattle girl now, Joany- do you mind if I call you Joany?” Martina responded, picking up her many boxes.
“Not at all, not at all. I like your way of thinking. We could be friends, you and I, and very quickly I imagine.” She turned the door handle, and thrust the door open with the box resting on her hip.
“Well, we’re living together; if we are not friends then at the very least we will learn to put up with each other.” Martina held the door open so Joan could walk inside. This was her new home- a single room with two beds, two desks, two dressers, and currently a key and a single box on top of the right bed with “Books- Tamora Pierce/Harry Potter” written on it in sloppy black Sharpie.
“Harry Potter and Tamora Pierce? We could definitely grow to like each other,” Joan observed, letting her box fall to the bed.
In the months that passed Martina, who would not be called Martina, but simply Marty very quickly became Joan’s best friend in Seattle. She had a special sort of confidence that Joan had never seen before, a kind made it seem as though she couldn’t honestly care less what anyone else thought of her, but yet the person behind the confidence won over everyone she met. Everyone around her became her second family. She had a shoulder to cry on- Georgia in 357, a person to go to art things with- Freddy in 455, people to help her when she couldn’t fathom her the math in her Chemistry homework- Kelli in 321, Adam in 488, and Hilaeri in 112; but also there were the people who came to her to get help with Shakespeare interpretation, for a person that always knew the right thing to do in any situation, and to take out for pizza. But it was Marty who was there 24/7, Marty who always got locked out of her room, Marty who took her up to Pike’s Place to watch the hot fish guys, Marty who she could tell everything to.
On the morning of November 5th Joan woke up and 8 a.m. for her ten o’clock class. As usual the wind blew, the sky was a particular shade of dark grey, and the rain poured without foreseeable end. It was her nineteenth birthday, her first away from home. Martina had already left, so she was alone in her room.
In the elevator down she had a friendly conversation was Philippe, the international student from France. It was friendly of course, until Joan mentioned that Philippe must wish that he were home in times like this, how wonderful the weather in Nice must be, who she wished she could go there. Philippe started crying. When the door opened to the lobby, she was hugging Philippe, who was getting her shirt wet and babbling on in rapid Provencal.
The day that passed was uneventful. She ate nothing worth mentioning for breakfast, went to her classes and did nothing in particular, and made uneventful small talk with her classmates. After an especially normal lunch and rather lackluster afternoon classes, she went back to her dorm. She walked into the elevator and pushed the button without even thinking about it. All day it had been her birthday, and yet, nothing had happened. No one had mentioned it. Had she even told anyone when her birthday was? Then the elevator opened on the third floor.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOAN!” her entire floored screamed at the moment that she first saw them. Above them hung handwritten banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday”. They had even bought her a cake.
“And you thought no one remembered!” Georgia, the R.A. accused when she saw the expression of deep disbelief. “You’re lucky that you’re the first one. Normally, we don’t go to this much trouble.”
“Thank you guys so much. I thought that no one had remembered.” Joan was flabbergasted. The really did care about her. She didn’t need to be home to celebrate her birthday because her family was here.
“Remember, remember the fifth of November, Joan’s birthday and whatnot, for there is no reason that the gunpowder treason ever should be forgot.” A tall man quoted. He looked vaguely familiar.
“And on that that note, once we eat the cake, I know this great British pub where we can move the party. I’m sure that there’ll be a Guy Fawkes Day celebration going on, so what better place to have a party than with drunken foreigners who all want to light bonfires and fireworks and wear phantom of the opera masks?” Marty stepped up behind the man and a huge smile on her face. “Oh, Joany, do you know him? He showed up and said that he knows you, so he should be entitled to some cake.”
“I’m sorry to say sir, that we have never been properly introduced,” she said, freeloader, she thought, aw well, the more the merrier. He bowed deeply to her with a mischievous grin.
“Then my name is William Hayden Barlow, milady, I believe that I sit behind you in chemistry and saw the note on your planner that said ‘my birthday’ in very large letters. You seemed rather depressed, so I figured that an additional person at this party might make the nineteenth anniversary of your birth slightly more joyous.” He grabbed her limp right hand and gently brushed his lips against them. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, kind lady.”
“As I am pleased to make yours, good sir, and much pleased indeed to hear such an eloquent introduction. I have never known someone to go so far just to get a piece of cake, and you, Sir William, have certainly earned yours.” Joan laughed at him, in his ripped jeans and uncut hair, bowing formally at a college party.
“Thank you, kind lady, I find myself quite famished.”
Two days later she sat down in her chair and looked backward. She had spoken to Will a little at the party, but most unfourtuently could not remember any of it does to the fact that the British pub that Marty took her to does not check I.D.’s. There he was, exactly behind her. How she did not notice him before she did not know, it had always seemed like he melted into the background, or perhaps she had been to absorbed in trying to figure out what exactly they were doing in this class that she did not notice anyone around her. He nodded politely to her and was about to say something when the professor started to lecture. He picked up his pencil to start taking notes and she immediately snapped to attention.
About five minutes later, she felt a tap on her back and a folded up piece of paper was shoved into her hand. She opened it. “Looks like you survived your birthday well enough. My dorm is having a study group before the next chem test. Gates Hall, 5th floor, Tuesday next week at 5ish. Bring coffee. –Will (206) 867-5309.” A phone number and an invitation to a study group. That sent a rather ambiguous message. Turning around, she saw that Will was not looking at her, but deeply engrossed in chemical nomenclature.
Joan placed the note in her purse, resolving to go to this study group and see what Will was really like, flirtatious, freeloading, or helpful. After class she promptly forgot about the note and didn’t say anything to Will the rest of the quarter.
Three days before she left to come back home, Joan’s mother had called and said that she had got a wedding invitation in the mail- George was marrying Samantha in February. She had known that that part of her life was gone forever, but yet, a single part of her had held on the memory of George when he said ‘I love you’, part of her still could not let go of her high school sweetheart. Now, it was decidedly over. No more hope for him seeing the error of his ways. They were two totally different people now, and so soon. They had only broken up in March. It hadn’t even been a full year.
Joan left for awhile, to go walk around and then take a shower. She always thought best when she was in the shower. The warm water relaxed her, and it was the only lace where she knew that she was really ever completely alone. It was well past dark when she strolled back into the dorm room. There was Marty, sitting on her bed, with a bucket of Ben and Jerry’s and two spoons. Marty had already taken all of her finals and was supposed to leave for Christmas break today.
“Did your flight get delayed?” Joan asked, reaching for a spoon and plopping down beside Marty.
“No, I heard what happened. I’m leaving on the late mountain hopper tomorrow,” she replied, “I figured that you needed me here.” So the two stayed up for most of the night, dissing their past boyfriends and the male species in general. They downed the entire quart of ice cream as well as three cups of coffee at the least, each.
When the sun rose in the morning, Joan was feeling much better. No one in Camp Rock would have done anything like that for her. No one in Camp Rock understood her. Her home was here now, and not in the past.
“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do if it wasn’t for you.” Joan told her friend. “If you ever need anything, like ever, you know who to call.”
“I’ll make sure to make you remember that someday, Joany. You, be sure of it.” Marty smiled and hugged Joan. “If you have any emotional emergencies during the break….”
“I have your cell phone number, you’ll be getting a call or two.” Joan looked at the time and saw that she had a final in an hour and a half, and she hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. “Marty-,” she added when she was about to leave, “If I don’t see your before you go to the airport, have a happy Hanukah.”
“I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year,” Marty replied. When Joan took her final that day she couldn’t remember why she had been so upset about a thing she knew was going to happen. However, for the rest of the break, she was sure to remember how great she had it at school and why she had wanted to leave Camp Rock in the first place.
Christmas in Camp Rock was mostly a happy time. There was nothing to do, but Joan did get to stop by the high school and say hi to her old friends and teachers. Everyone wondered how she was doing, and she made sure to tell everyone that she was doing great. She had missed her family while she was gone, but found that it is absence that makes that heart grow fonder, and at coming home, she longed for school. Her family seemed louder than usual and more stupid.
Her father, uncles, and cousins sat in front of the T.V. all Christmas and watched “Smackdown” and talked about which wrestler from Camp Rock was going to go to state. Her aunts, mother, and grandmother were in the kitchen, all interesting that the others should let them do the work and gossiping about the latest divorces and scandals. Her sister Stephanie kept buzzing between the two, commenting that the really good wrestler at 160 was in her class and then stirring some stew for grandmother.
Joan really didn’t know where her place was. She no longer felt like she belonged with these people. She had become so used to being surrounded by people that liked to talk about the things she liked, like politics and books that she no longer knew how to start a conversation that was contained proper immaterial small talk.
New Year’s Eve came and Joan found herself at her parent’s house, alone. Her parents had gone out to an ‘adult party’ with some friends and Stephanie was off at her friend’s house. So, it looked as though she was going to have her own sad little party. There was chips and dip in the cupboard and the ball was going to drop in Time’s Square. There was much merriment to be had by all, and tonight all was just her.
It was late at night and the movie Joan had been watching had just finished. She got up and stood on her deck. The night was clear and dry, quite an occurrence for December. Above her the sky lay out like a never-ending sheet of cloth. All of it made her feel very confined in her home by herself, very separated from the rest of the world. All her friends were probably having fun with their families, and here she was alone. Not only did she not have anyone to kiss on New Year’s Eve, she didn’t have anyone to talk to. Suddenly she felt like she needed to get out of the house. She felt like she needed to go someone, anywhere.
For the first time that night Joan turned off the TV. She stopped being depressed about her loneliness. Out there, somewhere were the people that loved her, out somewhere in the harsh abandon were her new family. To ward off everything she was feeling, she picked up her keys and walked out of her house on that cold winter night and got in her car. After several minutes of scraping windows, she pulled out of her driveway incautiously and just drove.
When Joan finally stopped somewhere it was about a quarter ‘til midnight, and she found herself stepping out onto the same patch of beach that George took her to exactly one year ago, to the very hour. So much had changed since then. She seemed to be a totally different person, with a totally different outlook on life. But yet, she hadn’t changed at all. She still had the same goals and the same sarcastic attitude. Her life experiences had changed the way she looked at the world, but deep down inside, she was Joan, and all she would ever be is the same Joan.
With sudden spontaneity she flung off her shoes, rolled up her pants, and waded into the river. The water was freezing, but the black volcanic sand felt like heaven between her toes. Peace. No noise, no people; simplu peace
From the quiet of the river, she could hear someone turn their TV up. “Ten, nine, eight, voices from the faraway party joined the people in New York. “seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year!” the crowd beamed. “Should auld acquaintances be forgot and never brought to mind-,” the TV continued. The voices of the people flickered off, but Joan murmured the song to herself “should auld acquaitneaves be forgot for days of auld lang syne.”
Above her fireworks started to flash, and firecrackers started to go off like gunfire. The lights of the fireworks turned the water blue, yellow, green, red, and from her secluded spot on the river, Joan realized that she was happy. She knew she had friends back in Seattle, and now, standing alone and cold on New Year’s, she was happier than the moment she had been proposed to.
From the first moments of 2005 to the very last, Joan had experienced bliss. First she had found a husband, during the midwinter rains she had found freedom, and at the very last second of the old year Joan Plummer had found herself.
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Alessander reviewed Version 2 -
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I never quite know how to do this effieciently on-line…on paper you can just see my marks and commments, but here – well? I’ll try chronologically, then maybe an overview? I’m not sure what specific concerns you had, so that’s the best I got.
You do a really good job of using details in order to convey the moment and characters, and as such I would like to see the dialogue and/or acts do more of the work than the narration. For example, at the beginning you state that “she felt the touch of hand around her waist” which is more than enough to allude that they’re intimate (i.e. you don’t need “the love of her life” – which is both redundant and a little cliche). And while on the subject of cliches, a better job needs to be done in getting rid of some of them through out the piece. I know that I as a writer tend to use them, but I see them almost as “fillers” until I can critically/creatively convey them in my own way. So, stuff like “blanket of stars” gots to go.
“he knew that she would face a freak out” “freak-out”, from the narrator, disrupts the tone. Unless you want a Big-Labowski feel to it, which I don’t think you do.
“Could he be proposing now?” – not necassary since the very next line explains what it might be.
“Of course, my love, of course. Did you even need to ask?” First off, this seems like it should have exclamations – but more importantly, the response seems a bit too mechanical. Something else, me thinks…
“Here is the Beach Boys with ‘Auld Lang Syne’ -,good detail.
“It must be an inborn quality, she thought, because it seems that all Washingtonians innately know the right angle to tilt their head for different type of rain. ” – very original – makes the reading much more interesting.
“deep down in her soul” – cliche
“But she wanted more out of life. She wanted to walk the streets of London. She wanted to see the Phantom of the Opera onstage at Her Majesty’s theatre. In her dreams she had a staring contest with the Mona Lisa and climbed the stairs to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She wanted out of this place,” I think this is a good characterization of her, but it kind of smacks of little town girl dreaming of the big city – which is a tired theme (girl moving away from love is too) – but I really see no way around it. I guess you have to decide whether this backdrop really contributes to the overall plot.
“Camp Rock” – a Peter Allusion?
“Then I’m sorry Joey, you either get the world or you get me.”
I thought this very succinct – Tarentino-ish (in a good way).
“With those words Joan’s heart shattered like hot glass under cold water.”
This is a great simile. Very poetic.
“Everything she had known so far in life had just slipped right through her fingers like little grains of sand, gone forever, impossible to retrieve.”
This is a little cliched though.
“Free; free at last, praise God, free at last! Praise Allah! Praise Jehovah! Praise the many handed Shiva and the fat Buddha! Praise to all, she was free; free at last!”
this is a bit over-kill (not to mention the allusion to MLK seems inappropriate). And psychologically, it reveals Joan to be either insincere (she was just overjoyed to be engaged?), manipulative, or selfish…unless that’s what you want the reader to think.
Books-Rice/Rowling/Pierce/Non-fic This reveals a lot about her.
Honestly, I think the whole last-of-highschool/graduation section could be taken out without disrupting the movement of the story. As they say in writing, sometimes one has to kill his/her baby.
Books- Tamora Pierce/Harry Potter …the plot thickens lol
24/7 again, the narrator tone is disrupted (though this kind of slang is more than appropriate for the characters).
I hope that Brit is purposely imitating V for Vendetta and doesn’t really talk like that!
nd from her secluded spot on the river, Joan realized that she was happy. She knew
PAGE 26 OF 26
she had friends back in Seattle, and now, standing alone and cold on New Year’s, she was happier than the moment she had been proposed to.
From the first moments of 2005 to the very last, Joan had experienced bliss. First she had found a husband, during the midwinter rains she had found freedom, and at the very last second of the old year Joan Plummer had found herself.
This needs to be omitted. The river and fireworks imagery would be a great ending.
OVERALL. The Prologue starts well, and you give really good details, the only problem I think I have is that some details are just for detail’s sake and don’t move the story. As Checkhov said, “If a writer puts a rifle in the first act, it damn well better go off by the last act”. And if the main point to the prologue is to introduce the character to the reader, you can do it in much less scenes/words. The main character seems interesting and independent, two main traits that endear readers. However, some of the passages with the girl seems like Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants goes to college, so maybe work on that part a little – maybe introduce some tension there. And of course, the Free at Last Part, which I already mentioned.
Uhmmm, I think that’s more than enough, and you may have to mortgage your house in order to unlock this review, so I’ll stop. If you have any questions or whatever, just message me.
Good job.
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thefierywrath reviewed Version 2 -
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Pretty good. So far, this is the best I’ve read of your work. It is very clear, and has an interesting plot line. Though outside of urbis I would probably not read things that have a lot to do with romance (excluding Jane Austin), I found your story very compeling. I want to read more. I want to know what happens next. There are some spelling errors here and there, but with some refinement, this could be a publishable piece. For me personally, I found the allusions to the small town in which we grew up in very pleasing. You could be more clear on what type of things were important to the townspeople, because not all small towns are alike. From the moment I started reading this, I was anxious to see what happened next. Good work. I look foward to reading what’s next.
Howard_Bushart reviewed Version 2 -
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There are a few problems right at the start of the text here which is the place where you want to have the fewest problems. You start with a statement about 2005 and then set the story before midnight 2004. This isn’t necessarily a kiss of death but already I’m having to think about times and dates. Probably need to start a new paragraph after ”...jumped and nearly screamed.” I thought, initially that the following dialogue beginning “Let’s get out…” was what she screamed and it threw me.
As far as dialogue goes, you need to keep the reader oriented to who is saying what but things like “Joan said”, “George replied” “George asked” etc. are really the way to go about 90% of the time. When you get ”...said, blissfully” or ”...she started” or ”...pondered aloud”. When you reread your work, note how many times you do this. The tags draw attention to themselves and the reader may begin looking for them. “Said” “asked” “answered” etc. work fine and disappear into the text, unobtrusively keeping the reader directed to the speaker.
Nitpicking 101:
- “wistfully” how she took the hand? or “wistfully” how George led her away?
- feeling something hard in George’s jeans? Might want to re-think that.
- George was truly “scarred” or “scared”? On page eleven, George is more angry than ”...he could ever remember”. I wonder if you meant “she” since we’re in Joey’s POV.
- On page 14 the grieving George is hooked up with one Ms. Greene who “would not leave him” like Joey had and Joey, who fairly sang and celebrated every diety she could imagine for her new-found freedom, now claims to be heart-broken? This seems contradictory.
- Amourous, though technically appropriate to describe her smile, has a strong sexual connotation that might spin the effect in a direction you did not intend.
- “quark and gluon”? Quantum physics to describe the love she feels for George? This seems a bit out of character.
- wrong/misused words throughout for example, ”...he would no be the George…” when you obviously meant “not”. These are things spellchecks won’t find.
- From quantum mechanics to “Long shot her ass” is quite a leap in character development. Not that I have a problem with complex characters but nowhere in the work up to this point has there been anything to indicate the narrator would make a judgement such as this. It pulls the reader up.
*““AHH!” Joan creamed at the top of her lungs …” don’t think you meant this.
*Georgia the RA… You might want to let some readers know what RA is, at least the first time they see it.
*”...but most unfourtuently could not remember any of it does to the fact that the British pub that Marty took her to does not check I.D.’s.” teenage debauchery? Memory difficulties indicate pathology.
*“From the first moments of 2005 to the very last, Joan had experienced bliss. First she had found a husband, during the midwinter rains she had found freedom, and at the very last second of the old year Joan Plummer had found herself.” But this isn’t true. Joan has been conflicted; upset about George’s engagement and marriage; estranged from her family and never had a husband. If it is a trade-off and she’s happy about it, that’s good and 2005 was certainly a year of growth but it didn’t seem blissful.
You have some interesting characters and an interesting plot idea (I think but maybe the Vatican will feel differently). You tell us a lot about what Joan is doing but character development, like plot, is about action. Show her doing things. It’s a big job and good luck with it.
nubadunk reviewed Version 2 -
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The first thing that caught my eye was when you ended a sentence with the word T.V. and then started with a new sentence. I actually continued the sentence and thought it was a run-on until I realized it was a new sentence. I would recommend using the word television instead of T.V. The only other suggestion is that you indent! Good read overal though!
Weaver reviewed Version 2 -
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(For the record, it should be spelled “Prologue”)
Good opening sentence.
“New Years Eve” – “New Year’s Eve”
“touch of hand” – “a hand”
comma before “she jumped”
Start a new paragraph with the dialogue “Let’s get out of here…”
comma after “love of her life”
comma before “wistfully pulled”
“pondered” – Not sure this is the best word here… How about “wondered” instead?
comma after “you weren’t taken”
So far, the dialogue in this piece is very believable.
“was a blanket of stars and a quarter moon” – “were”
no comma after “the main trail”
“restrictions on her driver’s license was” – “restriction… was”
“a freak out” – “freak-out”
“the eighties” – capitalize “Eighties” (and “Nineties”)
“on my desk folks” – comma before “folks”
no comma after “the radio said”
“to go a university” – “to go to…”
”...right there in Camp Rock, only three minutes away from her parents and five minutes from his.” Sounds like a nightmare to me – both sets of parents right there, close enough to meddle and give orders forever. That’s no way to live if one ever wants to be treated as an adult.
comma after “liked it or not”
“more beautiful then” – “than”
comma after “any sweeter” (corn syrup – good metaphor – implies something, or someone, almost cloyingly and clingingly sweet)
”...forever,” for the first…” – ”...forever.” For the first…”
“scarred” – “scared”
“un-George like” – “un-George-like”
”...lovely Joey,” he put his hand” – ”...lovely Joey.” He put his hand”
Start a new paragraph with “He wiped the sweat…”
comma after “matching Joans’s”
“the radio DJ had abandoned” – capitalize start of sentence
“Sing along everyone” – comma before “everyone”
I’m assuming, from your title, that you plan to have something terrible happen later in the story. If so, the scene you’ve chose to begin the story works well, because it shows that ‘moment of bliss’ as a contrast to what comes afterward.
comma after “In March”
comma after “Tuesday”
“Seventeen” – italicize name of magazine
“that keeps sending” – “kept”
“indiscreet” – Are you sure this is the word you mean? ”Indiscreet” means “not prudent or modest” or “highly noticable” – that doesn’t seem to fit with a plain white envelope.
“dream had come true -” – semicolon instead of a dash here.
comma before “no less”
“glitch in her plans;” – colon, not semicolon
“with every quark and gluon of her being” – I really like this turn of phrase. It’s odd, but means the same as the cliche “every cell of her being” would, and it shows Joan to be an educated young woman. (The average high school senior may have heard of quarks, but they don’t know what a gluon is…)
“But she wanted more…” You started the previous paragraph with “But,” too. I think it may be better to leave that word off here.
“the Phantom of the Opera” – “The Phantom of the Opera”
“Mona Lisa” – italicize
“With out Camp Rock” – “Without”
“would no be” – “would not be”
“no if about it” – italicize “if” or put quotes around it
comma after “When she applied”
“oh, I probably won’t” – capitalize “Oh” – semicolon, not comma, after “get in”
“Long shot her ass.” – comma after “shot”
“ambitious to even apply” – ambitious enough even to apply”
“any thing ‘hard’” – “anything”
I cannot explain why I’m still reading this, and enjoying it, because this kind of story – about ordinary people who live in this time, on this planet, in this universe – is not the sort of thing I usually like to read. But I find myself caring about what happens to Joan, hoping that she does manage to escape Camp Rock and go to the university and have the life she wants. Perhaps it is just that I can relate to her situation in many ways. At any rate, keep doing what you’re doing, because it works.
comma after “when she told him”
semicolon, not comma, after “house for them”
Maybe start a new paragraph with “All of this was too much…”
comma after “graduated high school yet”
“brought heartache to her mind” – something a bit off about this expression – wouldn’t heartache be in the heart instead of the mind?
“She murmured” – don’t capitalize
“something if wrong, besides” – “something is wrong. Besides”
“screamed” – a little too strong in emotion? – how about “shouted” instead?
I think it’s funny that both George and her mother ask the same question: ”Since when do you drink coffee?” I’d bet that Joan, once she is finally on her own and able to live her own life, will start drinking coffee as an act of defiance against those who wanted her to be predictable all the time…
“I don’t” Joan remarked” – “I don’t,” Joan remarked” or possibly “I don’t!”
“form that idiotic” – “for”
“Well then where” – comma after “then”
comma after “honest with me”
“Thank you mother” – comma before “mother”
semicolon or period after “almost eight” instead of dash
“Well I should hope” – comma after “Well”
“have you not seen…” – This should be a separate sentence.
semicolon instead of comma after “your sister”
“impressionable.” Joan’s mother answered” – comma, not period
“with George.” Joan repeated” – comma, not period
“let her go.” Joan’s father said” – (yep, again) comma, not period
comma after “protest any more”
“beat up” hyphenate
“from the past week” – “for”
“doesn’t floods the parking lot” – “doesn’t flood, the parking lot”
It may make reading easier to have her thoughts in italics, or at least separated out into their own paragraph.
“at sat beside” – “and sat beside”
“they had gone to the prom…” – new sentence – comma after “together”
comma after “With a sigh”
“even though she knew…” – new sentence
“saturninely” – I have trouble seeing this word applied to a man who’s only nineteen years old – Is there a better way to say “seriously” here?
“there’ll still be plenty of time” – new sentence
“for job” – “for a job”
“I need this George” – comma after “this”
comma after “are giving me”
“particularly” – I think you mean “practically”
“I’m sorry Joey” – comma after “sorry” – semicolon or period, not comma, after “Joey”
“more then” – “than”
comma after “With those words”
“hot glass under cold water” – another very good, appropriate simile… She’s feeling so excited about going to the university, and then he ‘dumps cold water’ on her emotions.
“small town way for thinking” – “small-town way of thinking”
“many handed Shiva” – “many-handed”
The passage that starts with “Her mind was free” is excellent. Good use of repetition. Love the mention of various deities and the referrence to King’s speech. (I am suspecting something slightly autobiographical in this story, at least as far as the ‘intelligent and educated young adult from small town longs to leave and do more with life’ part goes.)
“that got lord only knows when” – This is confusing.
“at sometimes” – “at times”
comma after “last day at school”
“that she was graduating” – “when she was graduating”
“the day off work” – “off from work”
comma after “life in Seattle ”
“1,500 person” – hyphenate
comma after “were filled”
“120 person” – hyphenate
You don’t tell the reader that 1 in 4 students didn’t even think it was important to stay in school and graduate; you show it by saying that that class dropped from 120 to 90 by the day graduation came around.
“in one group. Gossiping” – this should be all one sentence, with a comma instead of a period
“Adjusted” – don’t capitalize
“From the stadium the sound” – ...came the sound”
“the crowed who was” – “the crowd that was”
“crowed parking lot” – “crowded”
“onto the stadium” – “into”
“you may now” – capitalize
semicolon (or period) after “tassels”
comma after “new graduates” and after “walk out”
comma after “name was called”
“Ignorance- be gone, intolerance- away; for” – ” Ignorance, be gone; intolerance, away; for”
“for now, it was a citizen” – new sentence
“feel sad along with the bliss?” – “sadness”
(Page 15 – In the interest of not making this review impossibly long, I’ll skip most of the punctuation corrections from now on out, and stick to story content. I can offer iiput on ‘proofreading issues’ for the rest in a private message if you want.)
“Books-Rice/Rowling/Pierce/Non-fic” – Looks like Joan has her priorities in place – books are important. :)
The run-on sentences in Marty’s dialogue probably shouldn’t be corrected – I think it shows her personality (my first impression is that she’s a little scatter-brained and talks a lot) better to leave this as it is.
“In the months that passed…” I’m sure someone will say “Show, don’t tell!” in response to this paragraph, but I think it works well as it is, to just sum up the new friends Joan meets in her first few months at college. Putting too much focus on the parts that are not as important would only muddy the story, after all.
”...what better place to have a party than with drunken foreigners who all want to light bonfires and fireworks and wear phantom of the opera masks?” How can anyone not like a person who says things like this? :)
You make William’s formal and old-fashioned speech seem perfectly natural, too – nothing at all odd about a guy in ripped jeans talking like that, oh no.
“didn’t say anything to Will the rest of the quarter.” Arrghh! I, as a reader, will be terribly disappointed if she doesn’t meet up with him again sometime soon. Please don’t introduce an interesting character into the story and then lose track of him…
“Her family seemed louder than usual and more stupid.” This is pretty much how most of my college friends described how their families seemed whenever they visited them during breaks. (Well, okay, one said his dad and older brother had turned into cave men during his absence… Close enough.) The description of Joan’s family at Christmas – the men watching wrestling and the women in the kitchen – paints a vivid picture of the life that Joan went off to college to avoid.
“proper immaterial small talk” – good turn of phrase – How do you go back to talking about nothing when you’ve had months of intelligent and relevant conversation?
Excellent ending line to this story, too: ”...at the very last second of the old year Joan Plummer had found herself.” If all this was the prologue, I wonder where Joan’s life will go from here.
As you can no doubt tell from the proofreading, you need to fix a lot of punctuation errors, as well as some problems with spelling and grammar. However, this is a very good story, with interesting and immensely likable characters, and I am sure that it can find a publisher once the writing is cleaned up.
Harold_P reviewed Version 2 -
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A very effective and involving start. You set the scene with a cool professionalism, writing in a seemingly simple, rather understated way that makes connecting with the story almost instantaneous. A proofreading errors I noted were:
“quiet his emotions” = I think you should choose another word entirely in this instance, such as suppress (anything to do with holding back).
“she took it wistfully pulled” = this clause is difficult, I think you should rephrase the sentence, perhaps adding a comma after wistfully and then making it clearer some is being physically pulled (it sounds metaphorical and clunky here).
“face a freak out” = I think you can lose this, as you do well to keep the teenage slang out of the story up until this point and it jars within the prose a little.
“hungry smile” = I loved this expression, very subtle
The story has a sentimental feel to it, which I found slightly odd given your initial summary for the piece. I think the pace is very brisk and readable, and you introduce the religious undertones to the story early on in the story which makes it easier to fall into as a piece of writing.
I really find strength in the dialogue and the storytelling on the whole, it is very readable stuff, a very serious and considered opus. I hope to read much more.
Harold_P
DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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I like the switch to Stephanie’s story and this opportunity to fill in some of the mother’s character (being from Iran, etc.)
The ceremony at the end is appropriately farcical. Nice.
My main criticism is that there is so much in this chapter: Joan and George, Stephanie, the Pope’s ceremony. I think you could deal with Joan and George, then Stephanie and the Pope in two separate chapters.
Proofreading notes:
George had just got (If you are using American English, this should be gotten. If you are using British English, you need to use dreamt instead of dreamed later in the text.)
laying on me = lying (Of course, a character can say what he wants in dialogue, but I think this character would use correct grammar.)
The word commented sounds stiff as a dialogue tag.
He slipped . . . (needs to be on next line)
applied explained it (typo?)
something if wrong (typo)
me to well (typo)
At “Hi, honey . . .” I think you need to make it clear that this is a telephone conversation from the beginning.
“What do you mean . . .” (This is pretty abrupt. Wouldn’t a transition be good here?)
kidding.” Joan (should be a comma)
how hides (typo?)
twenty page long analyzation = twenty-page analysis
throne-throne (typo?)
and the going = then ?
xElegantUsagix reviewed Version 1 -
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“Her and George’s first date, when she was sixteen and she was seventeen”
—Did you mean to say She was sixteen and He was seventeen? If not then this line is confusing.
I think this is a good start. I didn’t see many errors other than the one I’ve already pointed out. I like this idea you have going for this but this chapter is a little jumbled. All the character introductions, I think, is what made it jumbled. We go from Joan getting accepted, to the end of Joan’s semester, to her Sister (who can now drive though she was only 15 a few paragraphs before), then to the Pope and his introduction. I say flesh this out a bit more and maybe start with the Pope then move on to everyone else’s introduction. That’s how I would do it at least =)
Over all I enjoyed it and would like to read more about this. =)
Good luck!
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