So, the critiques resume. These are going to be made extra fun because I somehow have saved the files without author name OR title/genre.

In a way this makes it more accurate, because you know, if you’ve been chilling on my kindle for a while I might not remember the genre and unless you’re one of my favorites, I won’t remember your name. Also, indie authors famously, often, misplace the books in genre. (Well, new ones do.) Also, I get to tell you what your first three pages present-as.

Okay, so those are rationalizations. It’s mostly that I’ve misplaced authors and titles. Bear with me.

Oh, and please stop sending me pages to critique. I agreed to doing one, it ballooned to ten. That’s fine. But I can’t do this the rest of my life. I have books to write. Anyway, bear with me, because there will be other chances to send me stuff to completely misunderstand/get upside down/lose the author’s name and genre on.

Okay, in case it’s not obvious from the preceding: I’m not infallible. I might heartily dislike/misunderstand something that is great. On the other hand, I might fail to notice a glaring problem. My only advantage for this is that I’ve made all the mistakes you can possibly make, two or ten times.

The other point to keep in mind is that these are copyrighted by their authors from the moment they were written, even if the name isn’t given. Please respect them.

First Sample

On that pleasant spring evening it was not enough for Kaede to simply sit through the ceremonies for the King of the Gods. She had to behave properly as well, as was expected of the eldest daughter of the world’s richest man. She sat with her legs folded formally beneath her and watched the Shogun’s humorless daughter wave her sword around before them in invisible battle against an excrutiatingly slow enemy. Kaede began losing her own battle against the horrible boredom the event inflicted upon her. She managed to suppress a yawn but could not prevent her hand from reaching up to scratch an itch under the black hair piled up on her head.

“Kaede, don’t fidget.”

Kaede shot a look of annoyance at her maid Yura, sitting just behind her and her mother. Despite her stern words there was not a cross line on her face, just a small smile on her lips that Kaede liked to mimic. She did not mirror the expression this time, turning her glower back to the Shogun’s daughter and her shiny sword and the slow, boring dance even she knew by heart at this point. She had certainly seen it enough times, and closing her eyes for a too-brief moment she could feel it, too. She did not need them to see what Adachi was doing with that blade. All she needed was to concentrate a little and her talents would tell her everything there was to know about the strip of sharpened metal and its movements. A swift, strong stroke popped her eyes back open. There was no denying the other girl’s skill. Then that small smile appeared on her face.

It would be hilarious to turn that thing into a giant phallus, she thought. It took every last ounce of restraint she had to stop herself from using her magnetic abilities on that sword. This ruled out being able to prevent a mischievous expression from spreading across her face. She felt a hand on her shoulder and ignored it. Yura had nothing new to say to her. She had promised to stay out of trouble for at least Adachi’s little sword-dance in the King Of The Gods’ honor and she meant to keep her promise. She had drinks to look forward to at the dinner portion of the King’s celebration, and she would find plenty of trouble to get into then. She had friends in the Shogun’s guards and they were always fun to drink with.

Adachi’s sword dipped over her head and as she brought it down it twisted in her hands and swiped by her face. She jerked her head away and fell out of her stance. The Shogun’s daughter’s fierce expression remained unchanged and she stepped forward to push through the steps once more, but the sword again looped oddly through the air, twisting her wrists and again pulling her from her stance. A murmur passed through the crowd and although her mother did not look at her Kaede felt the bonfire of the (comparatively) old woman’s rage light up beside her. Her maid poked her, hard, several times, and she looked over her shoulder with a baffled expression.

This above is the paragraph you should begin with. You can say that she’d been on the verge of sleeping or doing something magically (or magnetically) unnaceptable quickly afterwards.
A word to the wise: DO NOT HAVE YOUR CHARACTERS BORED AND FALLING ASLEEP as you open the novel. Your reader will tend to do the same. Open with the disruption, instead, and give the whole scene, etc BRIEFLY as a background. Also, for the love of heaven, what does the place they’re in look like? You manage to tell us the dance is boring, but not what the dance/dancer/outfits/building looks like or who is in attendance. Do so, as briefly as you can contrive. I.e. paraphrase the rest.

“Wasn’t me!” she hissed.

The above is uneeded.

Her mother’s bony fingers gripped her chin and forced her face back to Adachi who had wrestled the sword back under control. Kaede focused on the blade. She could feel it slicing through the air, feel that there was something else there—

Who did that? Who could have wielded her sword away from her like that? Kaede summoned [the meager remains of her willpower] and kept her head straight. Her eyes would not stay on Adachi, they strained left and right to pick out anyone she knew was a fellow wielder. I’m gonna get in trouble for this, and that is a stinky pile of horse excrement…

Remove in between [ ]

Adachi swiped the sword through the air one last time and earned a smattering of polite applause. She turned to the Shogun behind her and bowed deeply to him, turned to her right and bowed to her master, and then finally turned towards Kaede and bowed to the audience. Her eyes lingered on Kaede’s as she came out of her bow and Kaede knew that her reputation had unfortunately preceded her.

“Let us take a moment to freshen up and gather ourselves before the Peace Celebration feast, shall we?” Kaede’s mother stood stood and smiled sickly-sweet down at Kaede and her maid.

“Of course, Kuriko-sama,” the maid said, bowing her head to the floor before rising to her feet.

Kaede kept her mouth shut and followed the two women. She glanced back at the demonstration ground.

It would be a really good idea if we knew where Kaede is, what she was sitting on, what she’s wearing, and what the demonstration ground is….

Adachi was on her hands and knees in front of the Shogun, forehead and fingertips pressed to the ground as he growled at her. Before they turned the corner Kaede noticed the Shogun’s daughter’s sword master was there with his forehead planted to the ground as well.

I hope mother-sama doesn’t expect that horse excrement from me…

Why would she? Did Kaede do something? Because this sounds like she did. Try to figure out how not to give this impression.

Kaede’s mother found a nice, empty room in which to freshen up. This empty room was not near the Tenka Palace’s Main Hall, and instead of sliding paper panels that could all open to allow a summer breeze to blow through, the walls were heavy wood, lacquered to shine even without the benefit of outside sunlight, and it was warm and stuffy inside. She stopped in the middle of it and turned to face Kaede.

“You promised.”

“I did promise.”

Her mother took a deep breath, readying her next accusation.

“It wasn’t me.” She knew it would make infuriate the old woman to cut her off like that, but Kaede could never resist.

Her mother’s cold, dark eyes narrowed, her anger drawing creases across her severe face. Kaede snorted at her, amused as ever at the look.

“Really, if it was me, I’d definitely tell you. I don’t care if I get in trouble. But I promised and I kept my—”

Her mother swatted her across her face.

“I didn’t do it!”

This conversation goes on too long, as does the slapping and all that. For the love of Bob, have one question, answer, and then her mother goes into “you’re the only one” etc. And instead of getting angry, Kaede explains it’s not her and shows she’s scared of this unexpected thing. Sorry. but you manage to make both Kaede and her mom sound like idiots. And how old is Kaede anyway. She sounds about 10.

Her mother slapped her again, harder, the crisp smack turning the warm spring air frigid.

“Don’t you lie to me,” she said. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to my face. We all saw what happened, and you’re the only one who could do that. You’re the only one with that kind of ability. Don’t lie. You’re going to call the wrath of the King Of The Gods down upon our family and you will be punished if you keep acting like this, on a day in His honor, no less.”

Kaede felt her anger rise at the tear rolling down her stinging cheek. She glared at the old woman but kept her mouth shut.

So, my guess is this is fantasy set in…. a fictional Japan. That’s fine. Mostly. I wouldn’t do it because the research would drive me nuts, but for all I know this is your natural environment. That’s fine. But the thing is you have to SELL us on it, by giving us the details this needs to come alive.

As an exercise, I want you to start with that paragraph, then go back and give us the scene, as vividly as possible, with all five senses. What is Kaede wearing? What does it look like? what does the Shogun’s daughter wear? what does it look like. For that matter, what does the sword look like? And what does it smell like? The smell of the fires, or the dancer’s sweat, or whatever. A pleasant evening is not a description. What sound does Kaede’s mother make, standing behind her?

And then have Kaede be scared her mother isn’t going to believe her. Not just wondering what her mother will do. Perhaps trying to rehearse in her mind what it means that she saw. I mean, she has to still be unsettled, right? And how to explain it to her mother.

Then have her mother confront her, but without either of them acting like idiots, or like she’s 10 and her mother is an abuser.

Go–

(And no. I’m not trying to do this. And yes, I’ve done far worse. This is publishable, I’m just trying to help you make it irresistible.)

Second Sample

Labor Day Weekend

Orange County, CA 1967

At least it isn’t a fondue party again, thought June Weyland as she added a sweet-and-sour meatball to her plate. The Baylors’ parties were known for their themes, and as a farewell to summer they had decided to throw a Polynesian dinner. Pineapples and plastic leis decorated the buffet, and it seemed that every other woman attending was wearing a muumuu. Balancing her plate carefully, June headed toward the corner of the patio where her husband stood speaking to Lurie and Doug Adams, their near neighbors.

Not for the first time, she had to admit that the Baylors knew how to throw a party; their back yard had been extensively renovated for entertaining, and she found herself wondering how much it had cost. The barbecue grilling area and planters lining the backyard fence were faced with lava rock, a fountain tinkled nearby and the banana trees and hibiscus bushes were highlighted by neon pink, orange and yellow floodlights. It was perfect for a luau party, and June found herself thinking that it looked like a photo spread from Good Housekeeping magazine. John Baylor had held an administrative position at the local bank for years, and there were rumors that he was planning to run for city council; the Baylors were generally assumed to be well-off.

Doug Adams had chosen a lime-green aloha shirt that didn’t really suit him and clashed with the bright yellow lei draped around his neck. His Southern accent had deepened, as it always did after his second drink. As he enthused about his auto dealership’s end-of-summer sale, his animated gestures threatened to slosh his drink out of his glass; Tom smiled and took a careful step back. His navy blue and turquoise shirt highlighted his eyes, June thought fondly.

The last sentence redirected it, but you somehow need to remind us from first words that Lurie is watching it, that it’s in Lurie’s POV, because I got lost in the middle.

Lurie was doing her best to look interested, but her favorite topic of conversation was her sons. Originally from North Carolina,  she found the Baylors’ dinners somewhat challenging as she had never heard of fondue and even found sweet-and-sour sauce to be wildly exotic.

Their host had left the grill to circulate among the guests and make small talk. Now he came up to them and commented, “Is everybody ready to start school?”

Again, cue that we’re in Lurie’s view point. “Lurie watched their host leave–” Just little redirects here and then.

“I’m more than ready, but Bill and Dan might feel otherwise,” Doug commented. “They just got back from summer camp, and Lurie’s spent the last week getting them ready to go.” He and Baylor began discussing the candidates running for city council while Lurie and June speculated which teachers their children would be assigned to for that academic year, when something Baylor said caught their attention.

Instead of commenting, have something like: otherwise.” Doug put his arm around Lurie’s waist and smiled at her. “They

Don’t use “commented” it’s not needed. If absolutely needed, have “said” but you don’t actually need that, either. You can use stage business. Like something the speaker does.

“I don’t know what’s holding up the project, Doug. Alan Beck scooted out of town on vacation before I could talk to him, he’s been gone for the last two weeks. I scheduled a meeting with him next week and I’m hoping to get some answers, but I agree this delay has gone on too long. Construction needs to get going before the rain starts up this winter.”

Please give the characters speaking some kind of personality by having them move, wear stuff, smell, instead of just the lines of dialogue, followed by summation of more dialogue. I have no clue who is talking above. Baylor? Aldo it caught their attention? who is their? I feel like I’m working too hard to follow this.

The Orange County suburb of Bonita Knoll was less than fifteen years old, focused around a country club and golf course. Most of the construction had been completed several years ago, but there were still tracts across from the school and near the golf course that had remained empty long enough that the development had earned the nickname “Ghost Town North.” This was a joking reference to the nearby berry farm and amusement park. The residents were increasingly concerned about the delay in completion and recently rumors had begun circulating about the cash flow of Grove Coast Development, the company behind the project. One partially finished house near the school had become the focus of rumors among the neighborhood’s children that it was haunted, and at the insistence of parents the lot had been finally fenced off for safety purposes. Some of the homeowners had invested in Grove Coast at the urging of Alan Beck, the financier and founder of the company; June had a sudden uneasy feeling that Doug might be one of them.

Can you render some of the above in a dialogue? particularly if there’s disagreement? Because otherwise people are not going to retain all that information. While this makes it easier to hide information, it also makes it easy for the mind to wonder.

Selah Baylor stepped in diplomatically, encouraging everyone to help themselves to food and successfully diverting Doug over to the buffet. John traded a look of relief with his wife and moved on to chat with the other guests.

Show us this above, please, in real time?

As they drove home, June found herself wondering for a moment about the edgy undertone that had come up every time Beck’s name was mentioned, but soon forgot this as she looked at her husband’s dissatisfied expression.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“It was all right. Another Baylor party goes into the record books. At least it got us out of the house.” Tom sighed. “The whole time John Baylor was practicing his stump speeches on us, all I could think about was how fast summer went by. Now court’s getting busy again and Susie’s starting kindergarten, and we didn’t get to travel or do anything really fun. At least that gossip about Grove Coast livened things up a bit.”

Susie? I thought she had 2 sons? Shoot. This is June, not Lurie. When did we pop out of Lurie’s head and into June’s?
WHOSE head are we supposed to be in?

“Well, I enjoyed seeing everybody. It’s nice to talk to adults for a change. Besides, life is routine no matter where you are. I thought California would be different from Green Springs, but we still have neighbors, and politics, and gossip to deal with. It’s like Mom said – ˮ

Tom sighed. “Your mom. I don’t think she ever expected me to pass law school. But here we are, just as dug in as anybody else. Got a house and a kid starting school. Did you finish shopping for Susie?”

Talk of the upcoming school year lasted them the rest of the trip home, and June was careful to steer the conversation away from anything to do with Tom’s court schedule or his discontent with life in the suburbs. The idea of moving to the West Coast had been a challenge for her, but she had been pleasantly surprised by the group of fellow Southern women she had found in the area. Life here had turned out not to be that different from her home town, but her husband had not found this to be as comforting as she did.

School began the day after Labor Day, and June’s daughter Susan was starting kindergarten. June had promised to walk her to school that day, and their route went past one of the empty lots across from the school. Susan had been excitedly talking about which of her friends would be in class with her, but as they rounded the corner to the school entrance she suddenly tugged June’s hand and pointed.

Okay, NO. Just no. You can’t cram this scene in on the same three pages as the party. Give us the party, then put in a break of some sort. Indicate a scene break, and then go on to June walking Suzie to school. And cue it property: what is Suzie wearing, what is June doing, and where are they walking.

“Mommy, what’s that?”

June stopped and stared. “It looks like a shoe…” then she realized there was a pants leg as well, partly obscured by weeds growing in the lot.

“Is that man asleep?”

“Stay here, Susie. Stay here.” June stepped carefully through the rutted lot, leaned over and touched the leg. It was ice cold. Her gaze traveled up and she suddenly realized she was staring at a man in a suit, arms flung over his head partially covering a pool of blood which had soaked into the dirt. She gasped and jumped back, but realized she had to stay calm as her daughter looked increasingly frightened.

“He’s hurt, Susie, we have to get to the school and find a phone.” June realized she could barely feel her daughter taking her hand. “Let’s hurry, okay?”

Okay, so my guess is this is a mystery. And it’s pretty well written. Your cue up the party is great, but then you seem to devolve into a summary. It has the feel of a mystery, and I’m guessing the stuff in the party is important to the mystery. I do get that feel.
You don’t need to have the murder at the end of three pages. Don’t rush the party. You’re introducing the future suspects. You shouldn’t be rushing so I can’t remember in whose head we are, or even follow it. Please?
Don’t include tons of irrelevant stuff, of course, but do include what you must clearly and as vividly as possible. And a few red herrings. I’m sure you can do it, when you stop trying to rush yourself ahead to the murder.
Stay in the head of your main investigator unless Lurie and June are supposed to collaborate, but if they are, please give us a scene break.
Remember, even in third person, when you jump heads, redirect us. Give us character setting and problem, quickly, before going on.

And that’s it. It’s quite good. You’re 80% of the way there. You just need to focus more on what you’re telling.