Young Writers Society

My name…is Yingtai. It means Flower eminent.

I sat unaccompanied under the tree at the back of the school where no one would bother me. My head phones on my ears, the music loud, I was listening to ‘black girl white boy’ by Ludik and I was reading the Host, a favored book of mine, for the fifth time. The sky clear and the sun brightly shining down on the sad building we call a school. Some strands of sun light shining through the small openings between the leaves.

I always sat alone at this exact tree since I started at this school in grade one and I liked it that way. I felt different from the other kids maybe because I was. The song changed and I looked up at the tree as the wind blew, making the leaves and branches sway from side to side and it got me thinking of dancing.

I imagined myself dancing ballet, following the way the branches moved in the wind, loose and flexible, twirling around, jumping long strides and bending back. I saw myself in the leaves and branches moving with the flow, no, I was the leaves and branches and I was the wind.

I looked down at my book and closed it not needing a book mark I would remember that I was on page 247, then put the book in my one-strap school bag. Black with the logo of my dads store on it, a monkey having a crazed look in its eyes, loopy sale store, and a white strip going all around horizontally in the middle and white on the inside.

I like dull colours like grey, black, white, and other dark or faded colours.

I had a black skirt on, a light blue shirt that was two sizes to big and was faded, with a green beanie covering my hair and I had taken my shoes off, they are blue sneakers that where a new type looking more like boots also my dads logo on it.

My skin tone was a light chocolaty brown; I put my finger on my face and felt the smooth skin underneath and then put a finger to my arm, the same smooth skin there. My eyes where a darker brown like coffee beans and my hair is pure white, I never take my beanie off so I would fit in with others or at least not be the weird girl because of my hair. My nails are short, I have a habit of biting them once in a while, and my toe nails black, small feet size four and slim fingers that always seem to look long.

Underneath the beanie I had my hair in a French so it wouldn’t stick out since it was long, reaching my hips. My height was about five foot seven and I was thin, too thin for a fifteen year old, but I was trying to gain some weight.

The song changed and I switched it to song eleven, thug life, one of my favorites. Then getting to my feet and swinging the bags strap over my head and on to the left shoulder. I slipped my grey socks, that went to my ankle, on and then my shoes tying them firmly so they hug my feet adding a double knot like I’d been taught.

I looked up at the big tree, maybe three or four times my height, on last time.

The leaves a dark green like always never changing colour during autumn and never blooming during spring. I had seen this tree every day during the week and some times when I walked by the school or was driven during the weekends. It bothered me that it never had a flower blooming or a fruit to nurture the animals that prefer them. As if it had given up or it was waiting for someone or something to come along and watch the beauty of its labor. I wish to one day understand its reasoning for this, but until then I’ll just have to wait.

“Peace is what I seek and you?” I asked as if it might answer.

I sighed whilst turning around and heading to class. Once more to live in the jungle people call society. Soon I will return to the tree to find my peace again. I love nature so much.

Nature
There is pleasure in the pathless woods
There is rapture on the lonely shore
There is society, where none intrude
By the deep sea and musicians roar
I love not man the less but nature more

This poem is not mine, but the story is the idea from the poem. hope you like it and be harsh...

kcglitter wrote:This poem is not mine, but the story is the idea from the poem. hope you like it and be harsh...

Oh, some of the best ideas come from poems. I'm glad you thought so too. And I will be harsh, since you request it...

kcglitter wrote:My name…is Yingtai. It means Flower eminent.

This could be rewritten as 'My name is Yingtai. It means 'flower eminent'.
Also, the phrase 'flower eminent' sounds a little odd to a person who uses English as their first language. You could probably expound on that a little.

kcglitter wrote:My head phones on my ears, the music loud, I was listening to ‘black girl white boy’ by Ludik and I was reading the Host, a favored book of mine, for the fifth time.

Song names, if they must be mentioned, could be in italics. Like Whip My Hair by Willow Smith.

kcglitter wrote:I looked down at my book and closed it not needing a book mark I would remember that I was on page 247, then put the book in my one-strap school bag.

The first part of the sentence needs breaking up. Try 'I looked down at my book one last time and closed it. I didn't need a bookmark, I knew where I was in the story. I slipped the book into my single-strap schoolbag and stood up.'

kcglitter wrote: Black with the logo of my dads store on it, a monkey having a crazed look in its eyes, loopy sale store, and a white strip going all around horizontally in the middle and white on the inside.

Heard of the practice called 'info dumping?' That's when you give the reader far too much information. Though knowing what the school bag looked like may help later in the story, it is not of any consequence now and could do with editing out. Not to mention the sentence could use some reconstruction.

kcglitter wrote:My skin tone was a light chocolaty brown; I put my finger on my face and felt the smooth skin underneath and then put a finger to my arm, the same smooth skin there. My eyes where a darker brown like coffee beans and my hair is pure white, I never take my beanie off so I would fit in with others or at least not be the weird girl because of my hair. My nails are short, I have a habit of biting them once in a while, and my toe nails black, small feet size four and slim fingers that always seem to look long.

Underneath the beanie I had my hair in a French so it wouldn’t stick out since it was long, reaching my hips. My height was about five foot seven and I was thin, too thin for a fifteen year old, but I was trying to gain some weight.

This is not a biography. Unless you're planning to add more to this story and unfold it into a novel, so much description is completely unnecessary. Some sentences could use reconstruction. For example, you could use 'My eyes were several shades darker, a deep coffee-bean brown, and my hair was pure white. I always kept my hair tied into a plait and curled up under the beanie I wore so nobody would think me weird because of the color.' Or something like it. What exactly is 'a French'? Remember that there are readers who are hopelessly ignorant of these things. Enlighten us.

kcglitter wrote:“Peace is what I seek and you?” I asked as if it might answer.

I sighed whilst turning around and heading to class. Once more to live in the jungle people call society. Soon I will return to the tree to find my peace again. I love nature so much.

Any reason for this philosophical statement? And why does she call society a 'jungle'? Is she any different from the rest of them in any way? We have none of these. While we do know her hair is a strange color she didn't choose, there is nearly nothing else that sets her apart. She seems like a perfectly ordinary teenager, if a little on the pretty side.

As a writer you seek to make this girl unique in some way that sets her apart from the jungle she calls society. Make her different! And without so much description, either. Half the story describes her, and I truly lost the point somewhere through. Maybe she could listen to Mozart, or Chopin. It would instantly strike the reader as odd or even eccentric.

Your comparison of the tree branches' movement to ballet was the part I liked best. Such a lovely paragraph! And the last sentence was exquisite.

In all, this story could use some work. A revision. Make sure your sentences are constructed properly. I also spotted a few little spelling errors, take care of them. Punctuation in the right places doesn't hurt.

If you think I'm being a little too stiff, remember to take all reviewers' comments with a pinch of salt. And make sure you keep writing! You are good at describing; that's a strength.
And then there are people who cannot describe at all. *sighs*

-Button

Hi there!

So, you could say that I'm a bit confused. I don't really believe this belongs in sci-fi stories. In fact, it doesn't really belong in anything other than just general short stories, since there's no genre that really stands out in this. Why did you mark it scifi? because she talked to it? No scifi stories are usually about space, or take some place in the future, or something about technology. The only technology in this are her headphones.

Overall I liked it, I just didn't understand why. It was a great story, and you're a great writer, but it doesn't really have a point. Maybe if you go back and edit it you could make it have something, some bit of plot, some bit of a change? This story is interesting, just making it more interesting would include adding some bit of action to it. Instead your MC is sitting down the whole time, then talking about herself. Kind of just seems like the first chapter to a novel.

I think that you wanted there to be some sort of correlation with her name and the fact the tree doesn't grow flowers. Like she becomes the tree's flower, something symbolic (this wouldn't make it scifi, either). If you were trying to make it like that, then you didn't really do it. The only reason I'm saying it is because you put so much emphasis on her name. Which never really goes anywhere so you might want to scrap that or use it. But try tying the story more together.

And that's where I get to my next part. You leave a lot of open ends to this, and never really finish one whole thought, just keep adding on new thoughts. Let's add them up, shall we?
1. Feeling different from the other children.
2. Dancing ballet with the tree.
3. Her father's store.
4. Looking at the tree one last time.
5. Returning to her tree.

1. so she feels different from the other children, that does not make this scifi. And that's really common for children to feel, so it's not like she's some fantasy superhero just because she feels different. You seem put a lot of emphasis on that but never really finally address it, like showing how some kids treat her and stuff.

2. Yeah, what the heck is this? I feel like you just added it for the sake of adding beauty to your writing, and that in turn doesn't make it very beautiful at all. I'd suggest you make a point to this, because without there being a point it's kind of just this random thing happening that confuses your readers.

3. You bring this up but never really make it relevant.

4. Yeah, you say that she's looking up at it for the last time, and then number 5 she says that she's going to return to the tree. What? Another confusing part about this story.

I liked it, I really did, it was just rather confusing.

Write on,

Classy

First of all that write on thing made me think of Fly on fang from Maximum ride...not the point...yeah I’m glad you noticed that I put it in Si-fi, the reasoning behind it is that I wanted to make it a story of an experiment girl, but never go around to doing so. She was a thought more or less and I decided it better to just excurses my writing skills and came to this. I know it's bad in the sense of the miss leads even the name. I was hoping to see if anyone was really interested in me completing it. For the time being I'm working on Phoenix so this was just for fun. I will complete it and maybe then people will already have heard of this and want to find out more about the novel itself. So call this Advertising.

Sorry though for the confusion. I have good intentions.