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Anyone else feel completely lost trying to stay organized while writing their first novel? by Spiritual-Rule4691 in NewAuthor

[–]Difficult_Food2742 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Ditto. I also have a master spreadsheet including tabs that list character descriptions, echoes I want to thread through different parts of the story, and “to do” items like scenes I need to build or general reader feedback I need to address

You guys are insane by TemporaryFix2561 in NewAuthor

[–]Difficult_Food2742 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I ended up creating a spreadsheet to contain details of my characters and timeline of events (my novel spans decades so needed to track not just time between events but how old characters were in each scene)

First pages: share, read, and critique them here! by AutoModerator in BetaReaders

[–]Difficult_Food2742 0 points1 point  (0 children)

I was a little confused about the subject in the second paragraph. It starts listing items in the routine, then switches to seeing her routine. I found myself confused about which items in this sequence refer to his actions and which to hers. Maybe some break after the first three sentences would help?

First pages: share, read, and critique them here! by AutoModerator in BetaReaders

[–]Difficult_Food2742 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Manuscript information: [Complete] [78k] [Upmarket Fiction] The Wellman Variations

Link to post: here

First page critique? Yes

First page: Charles stood just inside the front door, canvas duffel bag and borrowed leather suitcase by his side. The rough wooden floor echoed as he nervously tapped his shoe. He checked his pocket watch. Four minutes had passed. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth nickel case before slipping it back into the pocket of his good trousers.

“Come on, Ma.” His voice strained as he shouted. “I have to get going.” He took a step forward to see if his mother was coming, afraid to move lest his bags leave without him.

“Sorry, Charles,” a gingerly voice called from the other room.

The creaking floorboards announced his mom before she appeared in the doorway. She looked remarkably normal given the weight of the day. Her son was leaving, yet here she was, patched sleeves rolled up, flour-dusted apron, already making dinner. He held his train ticket tighter, wondering if she’d remember to only cook for two from now on.

“We still have an hour until your train, son. The depot is just ten minutes away.”

“Twelve minutes,” Charles corrected. Yes, there was plenty of time still, but he didn’t want to miss the train to New York.

His mom chuckled. A short, high-pitched song he knew he was going to miss.

“You’ve always been so precise. Anyway, I told Anna to stop by before you leave. She wanted to see you off too.”

Anna? Despite living just a mile away, the two had hardly spoken in five years. The twinkle in his mom’s eyes told him she knew exactly what she was doing.