WHAT REMAINS - YA psych thriller

[christinaf]

Here's my first 500. Thanks for any feedback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ONE
Madison



I said I’d never go back to the water again, but the brackish brown muck in front of me isn’t quite the clear blue ocean of death I’d sworn off. There’s a strange beauty to the thickness of the swamp, the way soft green plants float on top of shallow pools at the edge of this expansive place. As if life is a thing to be buoyed up here—instead of dragged down and stolen by the watery depths I’d known.


I turn away from the murky puddle, shutting my eyes until the calming darkness I’d grown to know so well replaces the memories of pale skin and limp limbs and too much perfectly blue water.


I count the seconds, the croaking of frogs keeping time with me until there is only the swamp and me and the humid air filling my lungs.


Cicadas chirp in the fading light as I open my eyes and take one step into the swamp. Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to go in. Aunt Tilly told me it’s too dangerous to explore—too many hollow spots, too many animals with sharp teeth, too much mud to suck me down. But she also said dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour and if I sat in my room, staring at the suitcase I should unpack, I would keep obsessing over the reason why my summer is being spent in the oppressive heat of Georgia instead of at home. And anything to get my mind off the reason I’m here is fine with me.


I only meant to walk around the house, to get fresh air, even if it is as hot and thick as someone’s breath right in my face. But when the end of Aunt Tilly’s long yard bordered the miles-wide swamp, I found myself standing on the very edge, where only shallow streams and small pools reach out toward me, beckoning me forward with languid movements so different from the ever-stirring bay I’d grown up knowing.


I pick my way around the muddy water, sticking to the soft clumps of earth that cling together like a patchwork blanket. This far out, there’s more land than water and it makes it easy enough to walk, as if the swamp were inviting me in. I listen to it, letting Aunt Tilly’s house disappear. Because maybe if I go far enough the swamp will swallow me whole and save me from my own unwanted memories.


An earthy scent wafts around with my movements as I make my way farther and farther in, careful to avoid the water as much as possible. Already, my gray sneakers are covered in mud that seeps through to my toes.

Maybe it would be smarter if I went back after all.


I glance the way I’d come from, but only tall trees, roots lifting from the water as if even they didn’t want to get wet, stand behind me. Curtains of Spanish moss sag from their branches, obscuring my path, until I can’t tell which way I came from.

[RebeccaJ_Allen]

I love this, Christina! The contract of the ocean and the swamp, the hint of the tragedy she's trying to overcome, your description of the strangely beautiful swap. And she gets into trouble so quickly! Great job!

Just nitpicks.

Do you need "quite" in the first sentence?

"But when the end of Aunt Tilly’s long yard bordered the miles-wide swamp..." this sounds awkward. You could cut "when" and end that sentence at walk, or you could change it to "But when I reach where Aunt Tilly's..."

I feel like I'd like a little more to make her turn back at "Maybe it would be smarter..." Even just the hating the feel of mud between her toes.

[christinaf]

Jul 15, 2022 10:13:24 GMT -5 RebeccaJ_Allen said:

I love this, Christina! The contract of the ocean and the swamp, the hint of the tragedy she's trying to overcome, your description of the strangely beautiful swap. And she gets into trouble so quickly! Great job!

Just nitpicks.

Do you need "quite" in the first sentence?

"But when the end of Aunt Tilly’s long yard bordered the miles-wide swamp..." this sounds awkward. You could cut "when" and end that sentence at walk, or you could change it to "But when I reach where Aunt Tilly's..."

I feel like I'd like a little more to make her turn back at "Maybe it would be smarter..." Even just the hating the feel of mud between her toes.

Thanks so much for the suggestions! I appreciate it!

The very next section after these 500 words also has Madison adding to why she should turn back (hot/humid, are there alligators, a splash that startles her, and thinking about how last time she rushed into something without thinking it ended in death...) so hopefully that helps with that with the opening as a whole.

[RebeccaJ_Allen]

Sure, that sounds good. Now you just need to get it on book store shelves!

[christinaf]

Jul 15, 2022 10:29:46 GMT -5 RebeccaJ_Allen said:

Sure, that sounds good. Now you just need to get it on book store shelves!

Hope so! lololol

[hannahgreer]

Jul 14, 2022 10:34:31 GMT -5 christinaf said:

Here's my first 500. Thanks for any feedback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ONE
Madison



I said I’d never go back to the water again, but the brackish brown muck in front of me isn’t quite the clear blue ocean of death I’d sworn off. There’s a strange beauty to the thickness of the swamp, the way soft green plants float on top of shallow pools at the edge of this expansive place. As if life is a thing to be buoyed up here—instead of dragged down and stolen by the watery depths I’d known. This opening is so intriguing! I'm left curious and wanting more.


I turn away from the murky puddle, shutting my eyes until the calming darkness I’d grown to know so well replaces the memories of pale skin and limp limbs and too much perfectly blue water.


I count the seconds, the croaking of frogs keeping time with me until there is only the swamp and me and the humid air filling my lungs.


Cicadas chirp in the fading light as I open my eyes and take one step into the swamp. Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to go in. Aunt Tilly told me it’s too dangerous to explore—too many hollow spots, too many animals with sharp teeth, too much mud to suck me down. But she also said dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour and if I sat in my room, staring at the suitcase I should unpack, I would keep obsessing over the reason why my summer is being spent in the oppressive heat of Georgia instead of at home. And anything to get my mind off the reason I’m here is fine with me. I love all these little hints about her past. It sounds like it had something to do with drowning in an ocean, back where she usually lives. Will she ever be going back? Is this just for the summer? And if her parents sent her away(what I'm assuming at this point) was she doing something dangerous as opposed to it being a freak accident? Anyway, all this makes me want to know more about what happened and so I have to keep reading!


I only meant to walk around the house, to get fresh air, even if it is as hot and thick as someone’s breath right in my face. But when the end of Aunt Tilly’s long yard bordered the miles-wide swamp, I found myself standing on the very edge, where only shallow streams and small pools reach out toward me, beckoning me forward with languid movements so different from the ever-stirring bay I’d grown up knowing.  I agree with Rebecca, this bit is a little off. It may just be too much for one sentence or maybe her suggestion of removing the when will work.


I pick my way around the muddy water, sticking to the soft clumps of earth that cling together like a patchwork blanket. This far out, there’s more land than water and it makes it easy enough to walk, as if the swamp were inviting me in. I listen to it, letting Aunt Tilly’s house disappear. Because maybe if I go far enough the swamp will swallow me whole and save me from my own unwanted memories.


An earthy scent wafts around with my movements as I make my way farther and farther in, careful to avoid the water as much as possible. Already, my gray sneakers are covered in mud that seeps through to my toes. I was actually just going to comment that scent and mud may be good senses to employ, great job! I wonder if there are any little fish or anything animals scurrying about?

Maybe it would be smarter if I went back after all. Haha, maybe wondering around a strange swamp isn't the best plan.


I glance the way I’d come from, but only tall trees, roots lifting from the water as if even they didn’t want to get wet, stand behind me. Curtains of Spanish moss sag from their branches, obscuring my path, until I can’t tell which way I came from. Ooo very ominous!

I loved this opening! I'm sorry I don't have a lot of helpful feedback, you just seem to have a very good handle on this story and the character already.  I'm very interested to learn more and would certainly keep reading 

[christinaf]

Jul 15, 2022 11:17:59 GMT -5 hannahgreer said:

Jul 14, 2022 10:34:31 GMT -5 christinaf said:

Here's my first 500. Thanks for any feedback!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ONE
Madison



I said I’d never go back to the water again, but the brackish brown muck in front of me isn’t quite the clear blue ocean of death I’d sworn off. There’s a strange beauty to the thickness of the swamp, the way soft green plants float on top of shallow pools at the edge of this expansive place. As if life is a thing to be buoyed up here—instead of dragged down and stolen by the watery depths I’d known. This opening is so intriguing! I'm left curious and wanting more.


I turn away from the murky puddle, shutting my eyes until the calming darkness I’d grown to know so well replaces the memories of pale skin and limp limbs and too much perfectly blue water.


I count the seconds, the croaking of frogs keeping time with me until there is only the swamp and me and the humid air filling my lungs.


Cicadas chirp in the fading light as I open my eyes and take one step into the swamp. Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to go in. Aunt Tilly told me it’s too dangerous to explore—too many hollow spots, too many animals with sharp teeth, too much mud to suck me down. But she also said dinner wouldn’t be ready for another hour and if I sat in my room, staring at the suitcase I should unpack, I would keep obsessing over the reason why my summer is being spent in the oppressive heat of Georgia instead of at home. And anything to get my mind off the reason I’m here is fine with me. I love all these little hints about her past. It sounds like it had something to do with drowning in an ocean, back where she usually lives. Will she ever be going back? Is this just for the summer? And if her parents sent her away(what I'm assuming at this point) was she doing something dangerous as opposed to it being a freak accident? Anyway, all this makes me want to know more about what happened and so I have to keep reading!


I only meant to walk around the house, to get fresh air, even if it is as hot and thick as someone’s breath right in my face. But when the end of Aunt Tilly’s long yard bordered the miles-wide swamp, I found myself standing on the very edge, where only shallow streams and small pools reach out toward me, beckoning me forward with languid movements so different from the ever-stirring bay I’d grown up knowing.  I agree with Rebecca, this bit is a little off. It may just be too much for one sentence or maybe her suggestion of removing the when will work.


I pick my way around the muddy water, sticking to the soft clumps of earth that cling together like a patchwork blanket. This far out, there’s more land than water and it makes it easy enough to walk, as if the swamp were inviting me in. I listen to it, letting Aunt Tilly’s house disappear. Because maybe if I go far enough the swamp will swallow me whole and save me from my own unwanted memories.


An earthy scent wafts around with my movements as I make my way farther and farther in, careful to avoid the water as much as possible. Already, my gray sneakers are covered in mud that seeps through to my toes. I was actually just going to comment that scent and mud may be good senses to employ, great job! I wonder if there are any little fish or anything animals scurrying about?

Maybe it would be smarter if I went back after all. Haha, maybe wondering around a strange swamp isn't the best plan.


I glance the way I’d come from, but only tall trees, roots lifting from the water as if even they didn’t want to get wet, stand behind me. Curtains of Spanish moss sag from their branches, obscuring my path, until I can’t tell which way I came from. Ooo very ominous!

I loved this opening! I'm sorry I don't have a lot of helpful feedback, you just seem to have a very good handle on this story and the character already.  I'm very interested to learn more and would certainly keep reading 

Thanks so much! I really appreciate the comments and taking time to read it!

[britstanford]

This is so gorgeous!! Really lovely setting descriptions, great telling details about a traumatic past event and possible future. You get a sense for the character and a grief or guilt she's running from. Really lovely. I'd keep reading. Small things. First sentence, the "death" bit seemed a bit dramatic compared to the tone of the rest of the passage.

Jul 14, 2022 10:34:31 GMT -5 christinaf said:

the clear blue ocean of death

. Saying she'd sworn off of water gives a lot of info. Shortly after, limbs, pale skin. Love the mystery of this horrible event, but that she still feels drawn to water. Great start!

[christinaf]

Thanks everyone for the comments and suggestions! I'll definitely be tweaking this after the conference and before querying more! <3

[toniapolak]

This is an intriguing opening and I love the atmosphere you've created in this murky swamp. I'm definitely curious enough to read more. My only critique would be the amount of adjectives that are used throughout. It amounts to telling, rather than showing, and I think you would have a much stronger opening if you cut most of them out. Showing takes a lot more real estate in terms of word count, but it's worth it if you can paint a picture.

Example:

I said I’d never go back to the water again, but the brackish brown muck in front of me isn’t quite the clear blue ocean of death I’d sworn off. There’s a strange beauty to the thickness of the swamp, the way soft green plants the vegetation floats on top of shallow pools at the edge of this expansive place. As if life is a thing to be buoyed up here—instead of dragged down and stolen by the watery depths I’d known.


Anytime you use an adjective, ask yourself if you need it. Instead of saying "clear blue ocean", find a way to describe it instead. Eg. The ocean sparkled like a sapphire under the morning sun. Bad example, but you get the drift.

Anyway, great start! Good luck with your story.