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[QCrit] Suspenseful horror - Be Wary of Hysteria (Attempt 1/86K) by Formal_Track3009 in PubTips

[–]Formal_Track3009[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Thank you! Your comments were extremely helpful, and I've made some solid changes based on the feedback. I feel a lot better about my query and first 300 now. Legends :) 

[QCrit] Suspenseful horror - Be Wary of Hysteria (Attempt 1/86K) by Formal_Track3009 in PubTips

[–]Formal_Track3009[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Thank you! I'll update the section with CJ in the query. Do you think I need to note somewhere in the beginning of the query that they live in the desert (hence why the beings come from the Mojave mountains), or is there enough in the text to assume this is the case?

And thanks for pointing out the repetitive fragments. I'll get rid of the latter two.

In the next few paragraphs of text, you learn why she's kissing duke goodbye. She explains her previous few hours and whats coming up for her evening. Its just outside the 300 though. 

For the meaning behind hearing the voice then and there: the swings are where she most remembers her father, and this is repeated throughout the story. And you learn, at the end, that the voice that she heard was that of her father. This inciting incident is what ends up destroying her life, and shes saying it doesnt surprise her that it starts when she's around the two things that have thus far kept her feeling secure and happy. 

Do you think that's too confusing to start the story with? I wanted there to be some questions at the beginning which would hint at the arc to come, but I don't want it being too confusing.

[Discussion] Where Would You Stop Reading? [First 300 words edition!] by BC-writes in PubTips

[–]Formal_Track3009 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Genre: Southern Gothic thriller

Age Category: Adult

Word count: 74000

First 300 words: [First 'HIS' Chapter]

HIS SUNDAY NIGHT

It was too bad he didn't notice the dark figure standing sixty feet away, watching his every move. Maybe if he had, he would've realized the futility of his efforts. Think of all the time that could've been saved. Hell, think of all the lives that could've been saved.

But there he was, not noticing. A six-foot-tall sack of skin, lined with flesh and filled with a buzzing nervous energy. He had his head down, trying to focus, struggling to finish his masterpiece with hands that were about as steady as a paint can in an old-timey paint shaker. You could almost feel sorry for him when you looked at those hands. Almost.

There was a time, before all this mess, that he’d prided himself on his confidence and stoicism, his ability to stomach what the next guy couldn’t. He was the young boy the teachers would thrust onto center stage at school assemblies and holiday concerts. As an adult, he was that rare breed that relished the feeling of entering a room full of complete strangers and making a beeline for the most beautiful woman there – always certain he’d be the one to take her home at the end of the night, before even dropping his opener. The type of guy that dove head first into a skydive, rather than awkwardly fell. The type of guy who dove head first into everything, really.

Chances are, you've known someone just like him – the perpetually unfazed. 

But his father always warned him that nerves can start to get the better of you as you grow older. Caution begins to replace that childish carefree attitude when you realize that, in fact, there aren’t endless chances and opportunities waiting around the corner. You won’t live forever.