Hi everyone,
Last week I posted the rough draft of this story. It's undergone some major changes since then, and I'd love some feedback on the new first thirteen. If anyone is willing to read the current draft (6500 words), I'd be particularly grateful.

Sarah had to shout over the blaring jukebox and the loud chatter in the diner. “Is Table 15’s order ready yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” one of the cooks yelled back. He shoved her order on the counter then, and Sarah turned gratefully toward her section.
Elvis's song warbled to a close. The jukebox clinked.
The woman's voice was dark and sorrowful. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. There was something in that rich voice that she had been missing with a terrible ache, something she desperately craved...
The plates slipped from her fingers, shattering on the tiled floor of the diner. Sarah stared down at the chair leg she had tripped over, and the two plates lying in pieces on the floor.

[This message has been edited by BoredCrow (edited September 29, 2007).]
 

I'd like to read the first chapter.
walt
 

Also, would it not be better to spell out the table number? "table 15's" looks rather industrial to me.

Anyhow, I'd be happy to read your current draft, but I might not get a chance to start until after the weekend.

 

Are the italics for internal thoughts? The trouble here is that the sentences are still third person narrative rather than the dialog style usually used for thoughts. Thought also switch to the present tense - as they were thought at the time.

I don't see any clear SciFi or fantasy, so I'm wondering about the genre. When I look to the title for help, I wonder: Are her marbles what she's losing?

I'm afraid I'm not hooked by the psychotic reaction, but that may just be my preferences.

 

Would it make more sense if it wasn't in italics? And it is meant to be the singer's voice that stops her, though I'll wait until I get feedback on the bit about the italics before I post a revised first thirteen.

Oh, and silly of me for not mentioning this before: the story is dark contemporary fantasy.

[This message has been edited by BoredCrow (edited September 22, 2007).]
 

My impressions were something like this:

quote:

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Sarah had to shout over the blaring jukebox and the loud chatter in the diner. “Is Table 15’s order ready yet?”[Great. I have a character in a setting.]

“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” one of the cooks yelled back. He shoved her order on the counter then, and Sarah turned gratefully toward her section. [A little clunky. She didn't know which cook called back to her, or maybe didn't know his name? But you're probably just showing that he's not relevant, so I'll forgive that. But "then" seems unneeded, and why did she turn "gratefully" toward her section? Is she really grateful to the cook for doing his job? Or is there something else going on there that I don't see yet?]

Elvis's song warbled to a close. The jukebox clinked. [Okay, song over.]

The woman's voice was dark and sorrowful. [I heard the last song end -- but is this the beginning of a new one? Or is "the woman" someone in the restaurant that she couldn't hear before, but whom she can hear now that the loud juke box has quieted down? Since the words are in italics, is she thinking these thoughts as a kind of internal monologue?]

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. There was something in that rich voice that she had been missing with a terrible ache, something she desperately craved...
The plates slipped from her fingers, shattering on the tiled floor of the diner. Sarah stared down at the chair leg she had tripped over, and the two plates lying in pieces on the floor. [It took me a second to realize that she had tripped but not fallen. I had the notion that she was so stunned by the voice that she had dropped the plates, but then it turns out that she had tripped and that was the cause (or proximate cause, at least) of dropping the plates. That caused me a bit of a time-jolt -- which came first, the plate-dropping or the tripping? If the latter, why don't I see that first?]

---

Hope this helps,
Oliver

[This message has been edited by oliverhouse (edited September 22, 2007).]
 

[This message has been edited by debhoag (edited September 23, 2007).]
 

Sarah had to shout over the blaring jukebox and the loud chatter in the diner. “Is table fifteen’s order ready yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” one of the cooks yelled back. He shoved her order on the counter, and Sarah turned gratefully toward her section.
Elvis's song warbled to a close. The jukebox clinked as it switched to another song.
The singer’s voice was dark and sorrowful. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. There was something in that rich voice that she had been missing with a terrible ache, something she desperately craved...
Sarah was so entranced by the music that she didn’t see the chair pulled out in front of her. As she tripped, the plates..

Good point about the trip coming first, Oliver. Oh, and I've worked for many a restaurant, and I never could remember the names of any of the cooks. This is partly because I'm terrible with names, and partly because they switched cooks as often as they switched the wait staff (frequently).
And yes, sometimes the cooks are so slow that you are entirely grateful when your order FINALLY appears!

Thanks for the offer to read, Deb. I'll send it along shortly.
 

I think this version is clearer, but it doesn't exactly grab me. I'm not sure that I can tell you why, at least not without further reflection.
 

That seems to dismiss the song and emotional tug a little early, just as the reader is digesting it. Try expounding on it a little. For example:

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. There was something in that rich voice (and mournful lyric?) that seized on something long dormant in her soul, wrenching her attention from her work.

[This message has been edited by WouldBe (edited September 24, 2007).]
 

Sarah had to shout over the blaring jukebox and the loud chatter in the diner. “Is table fifteen’s order ready yet?”
“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” one of the cooks yelled back. He shoved her order on the counter, and Sarah turned gratefully toward her section.
Elvis's song warbled to a close. The jukebox clinked as it switched to another song.
The singer’s voice was dark and sorrowful. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. The rich voice and mournful lyrics resonated deep within her. There was something in the music that she had been missing with a terrible ache, something she desperately craved...
Sarah was so entranced by the music that she didn’t see the

Hopefully that holds the crucial moment longer.
(Still looking for readers...)
 

As a second thought - do you need the dialog? Could you start with "Hound Dog" drifting off and the jukebox clicking to a new on as she carried table 15's order towards it?

I think your last opener was the best so far.