Young Writers Society

“That should do it.” I said aloud as I put the finishing touches on the last chapter of my new horror book. I had already written one book. It hadn’t sold well. Or should I say at all. When my publisher realized there would be no profit for me or him, he dropped me. Not only had my book gotten bad reviews, but so had he. The reviewer had called me a monkey with no imagination and a pen. He wasn’t as nice to Mr. Brown; my publisher.

Mr. Brown had lost a lot of business because of my book. Now he refused to be associated with me in any way. I had gone to him to publish my book only after no one else would. I had gone to 47 different publishers. They all told me the same thing. To find another job and that I couldn’t write. I didn’t believe them and never will. My mother was a writer and everybody loved her. It’s in my blood to be a writer. I just know it.

I was suddenly overcome with an urge to visit my mother. I got my coat and purse, and walked to my car. My car was an old Volkswagen Beetle; it used to run really good. Now it broke down on an average of once a week. My mother had asked when I was going to get another car, I told her never. That was when she used to ride with me, now she stays in bed all day at The Loving way Retirement Center. I had volunteered to let her live with me. She had refused, saying she didn’t want to be a burden too anyone. Even though I assured her she wouldn’t have been. She had sold so many books when she was able to write that she was now considered a millionaire. She had stopped writing exactly on her 65 birthday.

The arthritis she’d had since she was 52 had taken a turn for the worse. Her once elegant hands had become crippled. No longer could she hold a pencil or pen. The fingers that used to be so slender and soft were now withered and callused. She still wrote stories, only now she wrote them in her head and told them over and over again. She didn’t seem bothered by the fact that she couldn’t write anymore, or live on her own.

I was now at the nursing home, as I walked in I instantly covered my nose. I could never stand the smell of chemicals and soiled bedclothes. I hated to put my mother here, but she insisted and seemed to like it. She says you get used to the smell, but I know I never will.

“Hi mom, how are you doing?” I asked as I walked into her room.

“Oh, I’m all right, did you finish your story?” Her eyes lit up. She loved reading new stories. It didn’t matter who wrote them.

“Got it right here.” I replied waving it in the air. I sat down on her bed and began reading it to her. “So what do you think?” I asked an hour later.

She opened her eyes and started biting her lip. “Well, um, well.”

“Forget it, it’s stupid.” I cut her off and started gathering my stuff.

“Sarah, don’t be like that.” She was giving me the same look I used to get when I was ten.

“Mom it’s just, well I have to go.” I put my coat back on and got my purse. When I turned around to say goodbye she was already asleep. I walked out of the home and went to my car. I didn’t start my car right away; instead I just sat there for a while. The publishers were right. I couldn’t write and might as well stop trying.

I started my car. I decided I was going to find someone that can and will honestly tell me what is wrong with the way I write. I speed home and in ten minutes I was on my computer looking up publishers. I found ten online publishing houses. “Should I send them?” I wondered. I decided yes, and sent ten emails containing my manuscript. Almost immediately I got an email from seven of them. They all said they refused to work with me and that I wasn’t a good writer. Now I knew the truth, I turned off my computer and put the last copy I had, in a box in the back of my closet.

The next day I got up early and went searching for a job. A shoe store three blocks away hired me, and two years later I was promoted to sales management. Work was good and I found I actually like it. I had almost forgotten about my manuscript, until the day I got the email.

I was at home surfing the web when I got an email from a man claiming to be from a publishing house in England. He said his name was Mr. Tonal, and that he was interested in publishing my book. I was surprised, and promised him I would think about it. He told me to take all the time I needed and left me a number to contact him.

I thought about Mr. Tonal’s offer for a week. I decided to do it. I found the old manuscript and sent all but the last chapter to him. The rest of the week I was restless and wondered what he thought of my story. I wish I could talk to my mom about this. But I couldn’t because she had died a year ago. I still cried when I thought of her. I still went to work every day, but the whole day all I could think of was my story and Mr. Tonal.

Nine days later he contacted me. He said he liked it very much and that he wondered if that was all. I told him I would send him the ending when I was paid in full. He agreed and sent me my first check. That night I went out to celebrate, with a couple of friends. Walking home alone in the dark later that night I thought I saw someone following me. Every time I turned around though, there was no one there. The next day I decided I was being foolish and that I had been seeing things. I went to work and had a fairly slow day.

Toward the end of the day a man came into the store. He looked around for two hours before leaving. He never bought anything, and when I looked out the front window I saw him sitting across the street looking at me. I was a little nervous, but not scared. It was broad daylight out, and he was across a main street.

As the day went on thought I began to get scared. The man never moved from his spot across the street, and he never stopped looking at me. When my shift was over I hung around the shop so I wouldn’t have to walk home with him out there. I wish I had gone home right away. When the store closed at six it was already dark. I pulled my sweater tighter around me and began walking home. I could still see him sitting on the bench as I turned the corner. The only thing that moved were his eyes, they followed me till I turned. Once I turned I relaxed.

Halfway down the block I heard footsteps behind me. Whoever was behind me were only a couple of steps away. I could see their shadow melting into mine. I started walking faster. So did my follower, I turned suddenly into a store. I saw the same man that was sitting across the street from the shoe store hurry by.

I practically ran to my apartment and locked the door. I closed all my shades and kept the phone close to me. My mother had always said I was easily frightened. She said I made up half of the stuff I was scared of. I knew I hadn’t imagined being followed. I stayed up late that night. I was afraid to go to sleep.

In the daylight my fears seemed ridiculous, “Why would anyone want to hurt me?” That was the question that kept running through my head all day long. I could find no explanation. Nothing made sense so I tried to forget about it.

Around 12:00 the same man I had seen the day before came into the store. Instead of looking at shoes, he came right up to my counter and smiled at me. His face was creased from years of smiling. And his bright blue eyes twinkled as if he was hiding a secret. “May I help you?” I asked my voice shaking a little.

“Sure thing, honey, you see that man over there has been staring at you for the past hour and a half.” My heart started beating faster as I turned to see where he was pointing. “And I was wondering if you know him?”

I could just barely see the silhouette of a man hiding in the fire escape across the street. He appeared to be holding a camera. “I have never seen him before.” I replied a little cautiously. Even though the man looked nice enough, I was still a little hesitant. “How do you know he’s watching me?” I asked a little puzzled.

“Well, I could be mistaken but isn’t this a photograph of you?” He handed me a photo worn around the edges, and beginning to turn yellow with age. There I was ringing up a customer. My hands started shaking and I dropped the photograph on the floor.

“Well, I just thought I should let you know that you’re being watched.” Then he left, his eyes still twinkling and a grin still on his face. He walked across the street and said something to the man on the stair rail, and then he turned and waved at me. My heart was beating faster now, and my hands were clenched so tight I was cutting my own skin. The bell over the door surprised me and I screamed. “Sarah, are you alright?” it was my best friend Kyle, “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I replied and tried to relax. My heart was slowing down, but my hands refused to loosen. Blood was beginning to drip out of my closed palms.

“No your not, I’m taking you straight home.” Kyle began gathering my stuff. He took me by the arm and began leading me out the door. He turned off the lights, and locked the door.

“My shift isn’t over yet” I tried to turn around, but Kyle held my arm and told me I was in no condition to work. He walked me to my apartment, and led me up the stairs to my door.

“I’d stay with you, but I have to get back to work.” His face was wrinkled with worry, and he was still holding my arm. “I’m going to have my sister come over here and stay the night with you.” My hands were still clenched, and now the blood was beginning to drip unto Kyle.

“I’m telling you I’m fine.” I tried to shake his hand off my arm, but he grabbed my other arm and looked me in the eyes.

“You’re not fine, I saw those men watching you. I’m not going to leave you by yourself tonight.” His eyes appeared clouded over and his face was beginning to become fuzzy. He opened my door and let go of my arm. “Now I want you to listen carefully, Sarah, pay attention! Those men followed us here, you must not open you door for any reason. Keep your lights off and your shades down. I don’t know what they want, but please do as I say.”

I was beginning to get scared for real now. I hadn’t noticed them following us, but then again I hadn’t seen the man in the fire escape until he was pointed out to me. “I’m listening.” I grabbed Kyle’s arm and whispered “Don’t leave me.” My voice was cracking and the blood on my hand was smearing all over Kyle’s jacket.

“I can’t stay, but I promise to call you as soon as I get off.” Kyle then turned around and walked down the stairs. I walked into my apartment and locked the door. I was about to turn on a light when I remembered what Kyle had said. I left the lights off, and felt my way into my bedroom. My closet door was cracked open. I went to close it and screamed when it suddenly blew open revealing a white piece of paper lying on the floor.

There was just one single sentence. “I can’t wait until the last chapter.”

I let out a gasp, and then quickly turned around. Someone had shut my bedroom door. I quietly moved over to my window and gently pulled back the shade. There below me stood the man from the fire escape. He was standing under a light post, as if he wanted me to see him. When he looked up at me we made eye contact, and he smiled then tipped his hat. He then walked down the block into darkness.

The next day at lunch I was nervous and skittish. I didn’t go out to lunch and kept in the back when possible. I hadn’t seen the man from the fire escape at all. Kyle had called me as soon as he got off work, his sister wasn’t able to stay with me, but I hadn’t slept anyway.

When my shift was over I decided to just stay at the store all night. I locked the doors and completely cleaned up the back room. Since I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping I decided to reorganize the shoe displays. I was halfway through the first aisle when I heard a knock on the door. I ran to the back room and hid behind some old boxes. After hiding for five minutes I realized how stupid I was for hiding. I decided to go to the door and open it. When I got to the door there was no one, just a white envelope. I opened it and almost screamed.

“I’m still waiting for that last chapter.” That was what the note said. That when it all clicked. Everything that had been happening to me had first happened to my character in my book. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. I had written the book, I had invented the stalker, and I had written the ending.

I had to change the ending. If I didn’t I would be murdered by my stalker. I had invented the perfect crime; and my killer would never be convicted. I finished up the display and practically ran the whole way home.

By the time I finished the display it was three in the morning. The sun was just beginning to peek out from above the top of the giant spruce trees along the street. The fresh dewy smell of morning hung in the air. As I ran people stared at me, but I didn’t care because I had to get home. If I wanted to survive I had to let him die. I honestly didn’t want to, but I had too there was no other way.

Digging through my closet looking for the old manuscript I found lots of forgotten memories. Misplaced photographs and lost pens. After looking for twenty minutes I found it. The edges were beginning to get ratty and the paper was a dusty grey color, but the words were still legible. I ripped off the last chapter and burned it in the kitchen sink. I then set to work writing another ending. This time it was going to end very differently.

That night I sent the manuscript to Mr. Tonal. The next day when the newspapers explained how Mr. Tonal and the man from the fire escape had died in a horrible car accident, I breathed a sigh of relief with tears of remorse running down my cheeks

Wow, that was pretty wierd. Her story came to life, interesting!

It's really good, but it confuses me when she has blood on her hand....

What is really good about it, is that you gripped me, I really wanted to read more!

yeh the blood part is still going through the "fix" lol
thanks though, thats what i'm aiming for, the whole gripping your attention thing.

I'm just going to comment as I go along, and then I'll tell you what I think of it at the end, okay? ^_^ Most of the time, I'll just point out grammar errors at first. And if I don't make sense, tell me. This was written after my first calculus exam, so I might go too fast or slow or not make sense at all. Or I might overexplain things to the point where it drives you nuts. So please be patient! It's not you, it's me.

“That should do it.” I said aloud as I put the finishing touches on the last chapter of my new horror book.

Don't panic; I'm only commenting on a grammar mistake (a common one at that). Dialogue grammar is always tricky, and many people believe that the period should be at the end, just because the sentence in the dialogue ends. Actually, the last sentence in the dialogue is part of the "I said" part.

If you think about it, it sort of makes sense. Say, I added the adverb "sleepily" after the "I said." The sentence which the character says is continued when the writer of the story says the character did it sleepily. If that makes any sense...

So it should be: "That should do it," I said aloud...

Look at this topic for more examples.

forum/viewtopic.php?t=3746

I had gone to him to publish my book only after no one else would. I had gone to 47 different publishers. They all told me the same thing. To find another job and that I couldn’t write.

I think these sentences would be better combined.

"I had gone to him to publish my book only after 47 different publishers refused to publish my book, telling me I couldn't write."

It's a little quicker and to the point, and I think it might help keep the pace up in the story.

The problem with writing stories is that your choice of words and how you can construct a sentence can be the thing that either makes the story great, or kills it. Most of the time, you pick quick, nice words that aren't too complex and you choose the simplest sentence that you can, without making it seem like "See Spot Run." It's really really hard to do, but a way you can help your story seem faster is to combine sentences together. And that way it might seem a little bit more connected and help your writing style in general.

I didn’t believe them and never will. My mother was a writer and everybody loved her. It’s in my blood to be a writer. I just know it.

This is also a common mistake, if it can be called that. What you are doing is going from the past tense (I did, I ate, I ran around and killed people) to the present tense (I do, I eat, I run around killing people).

At first your sentence starts with the past tense when you say, "I didn't believe them" but then it switches to the present when you say "never will." Instead of "will," say "would."

And you continue the present with "It's in my blood to be a writer. I just know it." Actually, it should be, "It was in my blood to be a writer. I just knew it."

I hope this is starting to make sense. ^_^

Past tense is generally easy to write, although present tense seems more lyrical than past tense. Many times, people will want to switch in between the two, but unless you're writing a story which is in the present tense unless someone remembers something, resist the urge and choose one or the other. I recommend past tense for this story.

My mother had asked when I was going to get another car, I told her never.

A simple comma splice mistake; no biggy. When you combine two sentences together, you can't always connect them with a comma. Look at the first sentence in this paragraph. A semicolon connects those together. That's what you need for your sentence.

That was when she used to ride with me, now she stays in bed all day at The Loving way Retirement Center.

Another comma splice mistake, but not really a big thing. The main thing that bugs me in this sentence is the long name of The Loving Way Retirement Center. Now, writers are supposed to be very thorough in their descriptions, but sometimes less is more. Why don't you just say she stays in bed all day at a retirement center?

She had refused, saying she didn’t want to be a burden too anyone.

Again, not a biggy. Too should be to. Easy to fix, so don't sweat about it.

Even though I assured her she wouldn’t have been.

This fragment seems out of place, and I think it could be combined with the sentence before it.

She had sold so many books when she was able to write that she was now considered a millionaire. She had stopped writing exactly on her 65 birthday.

I think these two sentences seem out of place with each other. In the first sentence, you use the abstract. She had written so many books (how much?) that she was considered a millionaire (is she really a millionaire?). And then in the next sentence, you say exactly what happened.

When those two types of sentences are combined, it makes the whole paragraph seem a little awkward. I would suggest making the first sentence more definite and the second sentence less definite so they seem more accurate with each other.

“Hi mom, how are you doing?”

Mom would be captitalized.

She opened her eyes and started biting her lip. “Well, um, well.”

OMG! She's is SOOOOO much nicer than my mom. My mom looked at my story, FREAK, and she told me POINT BLANK that she hated everything about it. And when I showed her my poem "Bluebird" she began to laugh hysterically and scream, "YOU'RE SICK!"

Lol, good times, good times.

No, but I like the dialogue. It's cool. ^_^ The only thing I would suggest is to change this sentence:

“Mom it’s just, well I have to go.”

to this:

“Mom it’s just, well, I have to go.”

Eep! I have to get off the computer. But I will finish this critique soon, promise!

Thank you so much~!
that is so cool, i always misspell too as to,
don't ask why its the easiest word to spell.lol

Here's how you remember it: when you use too, you want to use something extra. So you add the extra o!

I speed home and in ten minutes I was on my computer looking up publishers.

It's sped; don't go into present tense.

Walking home alone in the dark later that night I thought I saw someone following me.

This is called the passive tense. Instead of saying, "He hit her" you would be saying "Hitting her." The only problem with passive tense is, it's unclear with who is hitting who. So when you said, "Walking home alone in the dark later that night" it is in the passive tense and seems kind of awkward. I would say, "While I was walking home alone..."

The next day I decided I was being foolish and that I had been seeing things.

You're repeating yourself. Instead of saying "I" all the time, you can delete so it's an implied pronoun.

As the day went on thought I began to get scared.

Just a typo: "though."

I could see their shadow melting into mine.

Sometimes you can get away with this, other times you can't. "Their" in this case implies two or more people. I think "his" would be better.

“Sure thing, honey, you see that man over there has been staring at you for the past hour and a half.”

A little bit of a run on sentence, and it needs to be a question. Try this instead:

“Sure thing, honey. You see that man over there has been staring at you for the past hour and a half?”


Okay, I swear, I'm not trying to be annoying, but I have to go now. I'll finish this story soon.

thanks you've really helped, like after looking at it for a while i dont even see the mistakes.

HA! And you thought it would never happen! I finally read all of this.

I won't nitpick on every single little thing like I had been doing, because I would be repeating myself. However, as far as the grammar goes, I will give this advice:

1. Learn how to use commas. Read your favorite book over again, and pay close attention to where the author puts the commas. Why does he put the commas there? Look at the sentence and see how the commas make it better. Commas are a little tricky, but it's possible to understand. ^_^
   
2. Learn how to combine sentences. This, I think, is your biggest problem. As I finished reading, I was struck with the amount of short sentences there were, and most of them weren't even fragments. Writers tend to use short sentences, as it seems to make the story a little bit more quick-paced. But you can always overdo it. When you use short sentences that don't seem to lead into each other well, then it's a problem since it makes the story seem like a "See Spot Run" book. Definitely not good.

So, besides sentence construction, what else did I find?

The story was okay. It had an interesting plot that I haven't seen too much.

I can't say I really related to the character too much, except for that conversation between the mom, and I thought she was unrealistic. For instance, she considers herself a BORN WRITER. When you consider yourself to be such, you cannot just throw your story in the closet and forget about it for a couple years. It torments you if you do so. I can personally recite to you all my story ideas to you, even the old bad ones, and then tell you all the revisions of those story ideas. And she forgets about it entirely? I don't think so...

Next, the publishers hate her story so much that they tell her that she should get another job. Publishers do not have this time, and if she's really that bad, why waste your time whatsoever?

And why would Mr. Brown publish her in the first place?

Yeah... that's really nitpicking. But I do like characters, and so expect me to nitpick on them.

As far as the ending? It was slightly confusing. The reader didn't realize that the story was coming to life, until your character noticed it for herself. But the reader never knew that. Now, I don't know about you, but I like having an idea about the ending. Instead of saying, "My story is coming to life!" say something about what the novel was about in one of the first paragraphs. What was it about?

For instance, instead of saying,

“That should do it.” I said aloud as I put the finishing touches on the last chapter of my new horror book. I had already written one book. It hadn’t sold well. Or should I say at all. When my publisher realized there would be no profit for me or him, he dropped me. Not only had my book gotten bad reviews, but so had he. The reviewer had called me a monkey with no imagination and a pen. He wasn’t as nice to Mr. Brown; my publisher.

you can say something like this:

“That should do it,” I said aloud as I put the finishing touches on the last chapter of my new horror book. My character, after being stalked by her new boss, was killed in a very dramatic climax. I smiled as I began to print.

I had already written one book...

You can have fun with this!

To make the rest of the climax a little bit more clear (I'm a little bit dense, so I love it when a story is clear) I would also use some sentence combination skills.

Okay, I'm done now. Good luck!