Till now we have gotten 2 submissions from you dreamers for the suspense scene competition. You have till the end of today to send me and Hanna your submission until we pick a winner.
We will also announce the winner between me and Hanna, and who wrote what.
This Saturday we will be posting our two new pieces of writing along with the next title for you guys, if you wish to enter again.
Thanks,
-Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
Hanna and I have written two different scenes. Suspense Scenes! You will not know who's is who's, so you may vote truthfully.
To vote, your comment must include:
1) Writing number (1 or 2)
2) Why you chose this piece of writing over the other.
3) Any critiques (Optional)
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Writing 1 - Suspense Scene
Darkness. The only thing visible to my seemingly dull eyes was the pitch-black of the November night. A shiver ran down my back as a wind whistled through the tall city buildings. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I kept walking through the dark ally.
Somewhere in the distance I could hear a pipe - drip-dropping with water. I almost turned around right then, wanting so bad to run home to the safety of my bed. But my drunken mother’s words rung in my head “You have to get it for me.”
It, of course, meant drugs. You’d think she would specify what kind, but no. Any were fine with her. By now she was too drunk and too high to care. And I knew the consequences if I didn’t get the drugs. She had made those quite clear. Most of them involved her current live-in boyfriend.
Again, I trembled, but not from the cold this time, but out of repulsion.
A thought crossed my mind as I wound my way through the Manhattan blocks You could always run away. Mom probably wouldn’t even notice until she needed her next fix. She might call the cops - but probably not. Cops being anywhere near her would detect drugs right away.
Maybe…maybe that would actually work. Could I run away from Mom? No matter how much I hated her for choosing drugs and beer over me, I still loved her. I still felt like I needed to care for her. After all, she was my mother. She gave me life. Granted, a life I didn’t want, but a life nonetheless.
Absentmindedly, I felt for a crate to sit on, too overwhelmed with my sudden shot at freedom. Could I do it? Could I get away with it? Where would I go? Who would I stay with? How would I get money? Would Mom ever sober up enough to come look for me?
Only a small part of my mind was vaguely aware of footsteps sounding in the ally.
“Excuse me, miss, are you alone?” A deep, male voice echoed off of the bricks giving me a pretty good idea that no one was around to hear either of us.
My instincts told me to lie, but perhaps it would be better if he just killed me. I’d never have to do this again. “Y-yes.” I stumbled.
“Now, why on Earth would a pretty lady like yourself be alone, out here, on a Friday night?” Something about his voice was menacing, but something told me to answer. Some part of him seemed…good.
“Just running an errand for my mom. I think I got lost.” I added quickly, hoping to pull off the damsel in distress, while maintaining my strength. The last thing I needed was for him to think I was weak.
“You think? I’d say you’re pretty lost. Allow me to show you back to town?”
I didn’t answer. As my eyes adjusted, I could begin to make out his face. Shaggy black hair swung lazily in his eyes, stubble upon his cheeks, creating a shadow across his face. Cocking his head to one side, he urged me for an answer. When I gave none, he came closer to me, reaching for my hand.
Instinctively, I snapped my hand back. But he held tight, pulling me up to him. “I won’t hurt you, doll.” He whispered. “I promise.”
Without another word, he pulled me roughly out of the ally the way I had come. My body kept telling me to fight, but I knew better. If I fought, I’d just waste my energy for I’d lose terribly. I could feel that just from the way he gripped my arm. He had some serious muscles.
A few minutes later we arrived at a black SUV, where he promptly threw me into the passenger seat. After a few miles of silence he turned to me and said, “So what’s your name?”
Not hesitating, I replied, “Lizzie. You?”
“Cody Shaw.” Somehow I doubted the name was real.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked, trying to hide the panic in my voice.
Cody didn’t answer me and instead took my hand, squeezing it.
After a couple twists and turns in the city, I was no longer familiar with our whereabouts. The only thing I knew was that we had pulled up to a house.
The house was nice. One story, wrap around porch, and lights lighting the path from the driveway to the steps. The moon illuminated enough for me to see that behind the house was a heavily wooded area. The neighbors were spread pretty far apart, but it was too late for anyone to be out or awake anyway.
Cody led me inside, sitting me down on the couch. Sitting beside me, he began making casual conversation. Asking me if I needed anything to eat or drink, or if I needed to use the restroom. If I was comfortable. He acted like a host almost.
I found myself becoming more comfortable with him, laughing and joking with him. And somehow, not too long after that, I found myself making out with him.
“Lizzie,” Cody breathed, as my lips moved to his neck. “I need to tell you the truth.” Freezing beneath him, I pulled away ever so slightly. He reached behind me, grabbing my wrists in his hands, when I was suddenly aware of cold metal replacing the warm flesh. Handcuffs. My eyes widened as I gave him puzzling looks. “I’m a cop. I go undercover in the allies to catch drug dealers and people who are buying drugs.”
My mind carefully processed his words. Cop…undercover…catch people who buy dru-
Crap.
“I’ve been trying to figure out why you were out there though - it’s pretty obvious you don’t do drugs, and I can’t find any on you.”
It didn’t take anything more than that for me to tell him the whole story. Afterwards, he un-handcuffed me, taking me into his arms.
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Writing 2 - Suspense Scene
The wooden door slammed against the wall as Jamie and I pushed through and made our way to the bed. His lips crushed against mine so fiercely and forcefully that I stopped him every few seconds, to catch my breath.
“Jamie, I can’t go further” I said, but he kissed my neck and would not stop.
Embracing me in his arms, he pulled down onto the mattress. His fully-clothed body was over me. Though his kissing was powerful, it didn’t hurt. I looked into his eyes, and couldn’t believe I was refusing to sleep with someone like him. His hands moved from my face, down to my chest, down to my hips… They slid upwards, as he began to remove my clothes.
“James!” I moaned, slapping his arms away abruptly. He continued to kiss me, but I pushed him away, wiping my wet lips with my arm. “That was not cool.”
“It’s about time we do it… what’s wrong with you?” His voice was rough and awkward.
“You know I can’t… But I love you!” To prove that I did, I kissed his neck, leaving the slightest mark of a love bite.
“I hate your Christian beliefs…” he trailed off.
“Yeah I know… Hey!” I remembered lifting my head up. “What were you doing with Christina the other day? I have not seen her at all.”
“She must have been busy getting ready for prom all day. You know how she is…”
Grabbing a hold of my arm, he began to kiss me again; his hands moved to my hips once more. His lips were crushing mine, I could not stop him. His arms were under my blouse.
Now I slapped him.
“James you pig! Get off!” but he continued to grab me, continued to kiss me.
I had known him to be quite rough and eager… but it never crossed my mind that he would do this to me, or to any human being.
I kicked him where I knew it would hurt. He let out a yell as I ran to the door. He cupped his leg and rolled on the mattress, but did not look at me. I hovered in my place, wishing for him to say something...
“You should not have done that…” He said, swaying from side to side to the drawer and pulling something out of it. I did not notice what he was doing until I saw the sharp knife in his hands, and his face full of determination, to hurt me.
“Come to me willingly… or be forced.” His eyes were agleam, and only now did I realize what a dangerous and threatening man he really was. I always knew he was, I just would not let myself believe it. All teens got into some trouble… right? But not like this.
I turned on my heel, adrenaline rushing through me, and raced out of the dorm. Everyone was out to prom. We were the only individuals around, and I, stupidly enough, agreed to come back here with him.
I ran as fast as I could, not looking back, but I could still hear his rushing footsteps behind me. I stumbled on my toes, and crashed to the floor.
He was getting closer… and I yelled. Though my shriek echoed against the small and narrowed hall, nobody came. I picked myself up quickly, ran down the nearest staircase, and entered the closest room.
It was pitch black, so I felt most of my way in. The sturdy wooden crate I grabbed hold of felt big enough for me to hide behind. I would wait for everyone to get back from the prom, even if I would have to wait hours…
The door suddenly creaked open, letting little light from the hall brighten a fraction of the room. He moved in, closing the door behind him. On my knees, I crept back carefully and inaudibly, making as little noise as possible, when my hands touched something wet and almost sticky.
The lights turned on, and I thanked god when I realized the crate was bigger than I thought. I was crouched too low for him to see me yet. But my hands were still wet, and very red…
I yelled as loud as ever when I smelt that almost iron smell coming off my hands, and noticed I was lying in a pool of blood. He heard me, and could see me now. I had never been more scared in my life, and I thought nothing could scare me more than his menacing face looking at me in a hungry sort of way, with the silver knife gripped in his right hand. I could not have been more wrong.
As I turned, my knees tripped over an arm, and my face fell onto a soft landing.
I screamed and begged him to stop as he pulled my on leg. I grabbed and held onto the peach-colored item with all my might, but let go when I realized it to be a torso, the torso of a human. I felt my body go numb when I looked into Christina’s face and horror struck eyes. Dead. Unconscious. A corpse…
Flipping me over, he covered my mouth, muting my screeching. I would not stop yelling. I would not let him win.
I felt relief and slight pain at the same time. Relief, as I knew I would not have to view or feel what he would do with my body. Pain, as I felt the knife jab through my chest, then my pierce my fragile heart.
I heard the tearing of my blouse, and his voice filled my ears. “I love you, too.”
And then blackness engulfed me.
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Never mind the layout and indentations of each writing piece. We both use different word processors.
Now vote!!!
To enter your piece of writing, please post it in the comment, and we (both Hanna and Charlie) will choose a winner.
The Rules:
1) Write a Suspense Scene
2) Word count: 500-1000 words.
3) Deadline: Wednesday 30th June! (The Same Day Eclipse Premiers.)
-Thank you all who vote and enter!
With eternal love and blessing from both,
-Charlie The Cooler teen, and Hanna the Cuter Teen.
I'm home - but I wrote this on Tuesday.
Something I should’ve mentioned in my post about Keeping it Clean (because you’re a teen) is that as a Christian - or another religion that has rules - it can be very difficult to go against the values of your character, and yourself.
If you are Christian, and your character is not, then I’m back to the fact that just because you write it, doesn’t mean you’re doing it.
If you’re a Christian, and so is your character, I’m still back to the fact that just because you write it, doesn’t mean you’re doing it. However, if you’ve established that your character is Christian and has Christian values, I would advise you to only go against those values only if it is essential to the plot.
If you’re not a Christian, and your character is, please research the religion enough that you know what is ‘okay’ and what is a ‘no-no’.
If you’re not a Christian, and your character is not, you don’t have anything to worry about. However, like I said, please only write stuff that is important to the plot. Otherwise, your readers are going to get tired of reading stuff that isn’t going to effect the story at all.
Hope this helped, sorry I didn’t add this.
And my internet is really acting up - the wifi doesn’t like me today. Grr I don’t like it either. Take that, wifi!
No, not football (soccer as the American's call it) goals! But My goals!
My goals for this summer are:
* Get my reading list up to 50 books this year.
* Finish at least the first draft of my manuscript. (I have the plot all planned, and I keep changing the first chapter. I just need to stick with one, and write the rest! THAT IS WHAT REVISION IS FOR CHARLES!)
Yeah, these are my two most important goals for this summer.
* OH! And to NOT get burnt! Malta is to hot. The sun is a vigorous ball of menacing blazing fire which wants to burn my pale skin!
* To NOT go swimming this summer - even though the beach is like... 10 minutes away. Despite the heat, I shall not go swimming!
-Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
1. Why am I so amazingly thrilled that school is over. I mean, Finally over. No more idiots throwing things. No more idiots making fun of my half English accent (They are obviously jealous! As they can't say even one sentence in a "Non-Maltese" accent.)
2. Why do so many people dislike Breaking Dawn? Okay the chapters with the Volturi did drag a little, but I thought the book in itself was amazing. The ending was fine. I myself would have kept a fight, and killed a few of them... but that's just me. I still think Breaking Dawn is the best in the series. Renesmee is so adorable <3
3. I wonder what Hanna is doing... Hanna, hope you are having fun! Come back to us.
4. Why do SO many people get worked up over the World Cup. I mean, hello, it is just a bunch of losers running after a ball. When they zoom out, it looks like a group of 2 different colours running after a white spot which moves around faster than the other colours... but if I had to side with anyone, it would be England or the USA.
5. Why am humming and singing the tune to Justin Bieber's "Baby" song right now? Weird... "YEAH, YEAH YEAH, NOW I'M ALL GONE, GONE, GONE.
I'm GONE!"
-Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
Thanks to the lovely Jessica (who by the way should follow our blog as you are not actually following it (Make a blogspot account if needs be) :P) gave us an idea for a writing competition/prompt.
So I have come up with an idea! But before the idea can become reality, I must talk to Hanna and ask if she is up for it.
As I finish school this Friday (YAY!) I will have a lot of free time during the summer (apart from 11th July till the 27th as I will be travelling to England, though I should still have internet and be able to update!)
So here is what I have come up with (with Jessica's idea and the agreement of dreamers):
Each week, Me and Hanna will take it in turns to pick a topic/genre/scene.... and we must write it.
Some examples:
Write a chase scene.
Write a suspense scene.
Write a romantic scene.
Write a descriptive piece describing a setting.
Write a descriptive piece describing a person.
Write an amazing first paragraph to a novel... etcetera...
Word count: I do not know. I will have to ask Hanna.
We (Hanna and I) will then show you guys two different pieces of writing in one post WITHOUT our names. YOU will then comment and decide which one you thought was best.
In the comment you should include:
1) The number of the writing piece (as you will not know who wrote the one you liked. Instead we will have a number beside it. Number 1 or 2.)
2) Why you like it.
3) Your own critique (if you have one)
ALSO! After you decide which one is the best - YOU may write the scene and post it in the comments. If there are more than 3, me and Hanna will read them and dedicate a post to the best piece of writing (the winner) with their name, along with our next assignment for you to vote and write up.
Sound good?
I must inform Hanna first, though, before anything is confirmed.
To participate you must be following our blog, though. :D Because... lets face it - We want morefollowers. xD
Keep Dreaming, Dreamers!!!
-Charlie, The Cooler Teen.
Are you a storyteller or writer? Or... both?
I, unfortunately do not believe I am as much as a writer as I am a storyteller.
I have been telling stories ever since I could make out up and down, left and right, up and down, right and wrong, you know the drill...
I have been writing for years (I wrote my first "novel" at the age of nine, so writing for me, must be somewhere inside me.) but am I any good?
I have to say that I feel I can't put down exactly what feel - yet. I can't describe a setting, or a character with the right words.
Mastering writing is a most difficult task, though I feel if I have not already, I am close to mastering storytelling. I fall in love with the characters I want to love. I hate the antagonists as much as my protagonist hates them, (to a certain extent... as I love every single character I make up.)
I can fall in love with a setting, too. The setting that makes it special to me.
My characters voices - Yes, I hear them. I literally HEAR them talk to me. I am alone quite often, and as I don't speak to many people in real life (apart from my family) I have a tight bond with my characters.
So the question is... are you a storyteller or a writer? I envy people sometimes as I read a passage from their story, or a few lines, I ask myself if I have what it takes. Even though their ideas might be amazing and out of this world, I could come up with another type of out of this world plot, sort of. But the words... hmm.
I love the English language - so much that i don't know what I would do without it. Maybe it is the fact that in Malta, people don't really speak English well. As my mother is half British and spoke to me only in English, I guess that is were it all comes from. And reading - Reading Reading Reading...
But even reading! It takes me ages to read a book... even if it is one I can't get enough of. I often want to read it so much, and find out what happens, that I just... can't be bothered, really. I am not quite sure....
I am sure this is not the case for most of you... but do you have these difficulties?
Are you not able to find the right words to put down? Are you not able to read fast enough... and all the rest?
-Charlie, The Cooler Teen
Connection sucks here in South Carolina. Hope it gets better - no promises. Not sure how long I can stay connected. jpereztheargus and Lizzie - thanks for the comments - i will reply asap! But it wouldn't let me when I last tried.
Oh, btw JPerez - my name's spelled H-A-N-N-A. Not only is the last 'h' silent, it's invisible. :)
This is your latest update about all things,err, me.
It is 9:40pm right now, as I write this, and I just woke up. Yeah I know. Shush. I fell asleep okay? Anyway... I dreamt about our cuter teen. Wow?
No! No Romantic crap... actually I dreamt about YOU guys also, if you count yourself as the blog.
Apparently, Hanna won some prize to interview both Stephenie Meyer and J.K Rowling on a talk how. (The set was actually the stage to the competition show - Britain's got talent... but yeah.)
So, Hanna was sitting at the top of the audience's row of chairs, with me of course, and I told her how proud I was of her.
Then, apparently, my dream shifted backstage and I watched as Stephenie Meyer told J.k Rowling how she came up with the name Renesmee.
I really like this name, and I had just read the chapter when Renesmee was born, before I fell asleep.
The way she came up with the name - so says my dream:
Stephenie was driving with her windows rolled down (get it? I do, and wow dreams take everything into consideration.) and saw the moon in the sky, glittering in the dusk? That were those her exact words out of my dream... don't think me stupid!
Anyway.... J.K Rowling was amazed and did not know what this moon would look like, so Stephenie grabbed a random makeup-mirror (from thing air) and placed it high up in the shadow, facing the sun.
And then I awoke to hunger - as I have not had dinner.
Oh glorious dreams!
Now you know what I dream about. :)
Thank you Hanna for being in my dream? This was such a VIVID one...
-Charlie, The Cooler Teen.
I do want to write - I really, really do! I just can't...
Have you ever had this feeling? I have. In fact, I have it right now.
Maybe I just don't have the time - as I have exams. (This is my last week of school!)
Maybe I just don't have inspiration... though normally, music fixes that.
I must have writers block...
I will talk about this topic in the near future, about how you want to write, but can't.... and how to overcome it... Once I overcome it.
-Charlie, The Cooler Teen.
YES! You heard right!
I was surfing the inter-web today,like always, when I came across the trailer to: The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
I have been awaiting this for so long! Believe it or not, I re-watched the first and second films just this week.
Watch the newest trailer here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrJQDPpIK6I
I am so happy that I get to experience another great Narnia film.
Narnia is one of the many reasons I write fantasy.
When I was younger, I always wanted to escape to Narnia, and be high king Charles. :)
And here is a still picture of Lucy Pevensie (Oh my love!) from the trailer, shooting an arrow! (This is the first time I have seen her hold a bow and arrow! Susan was always my girl!)
"The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas"
"Over the cobbles, he clattered and clashed" - Alliteration.
"Look for me by moonlight. Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!"
"Then her finger moved in the moonlight, her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight, and warned him - with her death."
-- Lines taken from the poem "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes
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"Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, the monster of depravity."
"He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity."
"There never was a Cat with such deceitfulness and suavity."
-- Lines taken from the poem "Macavity: The Mystery Cat" by T.S. Eliot.
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Few lines from two of the many other poems I had for my English Literature Exam today.
Let's talk about poems! What kind of poems do you like? The fun fast-paced type? The ones with the hidden meaning? Or the ones that are just out there and in your face? :)
These two poems that I chose were probably my two most favourite from the bunch.
Why?
Well, The Highwayman was not just a poem - it had a story to it. Bess - the landlords daughter, shoots herself as king George's soldiers tie her to her casement (with a muzzle at her breast) and hide in her room, waiting to kill the highwayman. She warns her lover with her death.
There was a question in my exam asking if I thought the highwayman was a hero. I could not disagree more. Though the highwayman comes back after he finds out about Bess' death, he is no hero. If anything, Bess is the hero. Sacrificing herself...
Macavity: I loved the rhythm to the poem, and it is just a fun piece of writing about a cat who defies the law - even the law of gravity - and is "the bafflement of Scotland Yard!"
T.S. Eliot wrote a whole bunch of poems just about, well, cats! They made a musical out of it, called CATS! :)
Watch it, why don't you?
*SINGS* "MACAVITY, MACAVITY, THERE'S NO ONE LIKE MACAVITY, LALAL --- OH! You are still here..." *Blushes*
-Charlie, The Cooler Teen.
(Wow at the cows! I love cows, but they scare me...)
"Mooooo!" Hah! Gotcha.
According to Hanna, the "cuter teen" we are dreamers. So woah! We are officially a breed!
JOY TO THE WORLD, WE'VE BECOME A BREED, AND NOW THE BEGIN WRITING!!!
How is that for my singing success? :)
While we are talking about breeds - lets talk about breeds in a novel.
Is it weird creating your own creatures? Is it good, bad, just... wrong??
Well, I only like breeds when they are realistic and true... and if you have a vampire do not call it something else for god sake!
A vampire is a vampire... it drinks blood. Then do not call a group of vampires: "The white people" and say they drink vodka... (I don't know, just using an example.) A vampire is a vampire... just because you changed their name and their prey, does not mean you created your own breed of animals and creatures...
Let us use Twilight as an example, as it is the hottest thing right now - even with me. I can't get enough.
Stephenie Meyer changed the vampires to fit her preference. They sparkle, not burn. That is good. She changed it and did not care about what other people though. It was hers, and she did what she wanted to do.... but she still called them what they truly were - vampires.
Though Jacob and the people down at La Push called them "the cold ones" that was just a group of people and part of a superstitious story... That is okay. Besides, Jacob hardly believed them to be real, until he became a wolf and kicked some vampire-butt.
Which reminds me: Team Edward, Or Team Jacob?
I for one, am Team Bella :)
--Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
I wasn't surprised by the fact that the majority of people who voted in the poll voted for the one they did. I just wanted to say that I will be posting about each of them sometime in the near future.
As for the person who voted for 'other', I cannot find where you commented on the blog. Unless, Tessie, it was you and you commented on WWW?
Hope everyone's having a great week!
With eternal love and blessings,
Hanna
First Person Versus Third Person...
The Great Battle!
The Ultimate Question which NOBODY can answer...
A Quick grammar lesson for those of you who skipped an english lesson and missed this:
First Person: I Went / We Went
Third Person: He/She went / They Went
I honestly don't know which one is better.
I would say first person is better when you want the reader to know one character well, and be inside them. It could also help more with developing a single character well.
Third person would be more if you want a sense of plot (but you still must have amazing character development in third person!)
I would prefer to write in third person - BUT I find I write better in first person.
As soon as I start writing in first person, the words come to me... and the voice of my character flows onto the page or computer screen... depending if I am writing on my laptop (if at home) or on paper (probably during math class)
Whatever choice you make, both are correct and both have their pros and cons... Neither is better than the other.
What point of view do you prefer to read in?
What point of view do you prefer to write in?
Tell us in the comments below!!
-Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
Success!
Popcorn - it was corn, then it popped... This is off topic but I will be posting about Point of view in another post right after this.
I am not going to compare a novel to popcorn - like I did with dessert... as a novel is nothing like popcorn... Except that they are both salty and delicious!!!
Now look at me and my cousin Sadie eating salty popcorn.
(Just shaved my hair today... Does it look bad?)
I tried writing this post yesterday, but my internet cut and it did not save, so I will rewrite today.
Quick answer to Hanna (the cuter teen): No, I only voted once.
So:
A dessert has many layers.
Like a dessert, a novel must have many layers:
Conflict
Love
Out-of-this-world Settings
Passion
Amazing Plot
Character Development
Point of view
Etcetera....
A novel needs all of these things to make it good. If not all - most... and add some others to the list yourself.
The equation came to existence like so:
I was eating a Hot dog yesterday, when I really wanted a dessert... I thought about the layers <3 and cream.... and strawberries...
Then I realized that if I ate both the hot dog, and the dessert, I would get fatter...
So, Dessert with many layers (the novel) - Hot dog (Extra scenes) = Novel.
And viola...
-Charlie, the Cooler Teen.
(Brought to you by... the Internet, and his white laptop.)
A novel NEEDS something to cry about.
I have never been published. Can I query an agent before my novel is completely done?
"I want to be a writer." Said he.
I hate it (and I am pretty sure other people hate it, too) when writers stereotype.
Which brings me to another point. If you’re going to give your work to someone to read, it should probably be a writer or someone you know will give you insightful feedback on what you’ve written. The person I gave it to that I mentioned would not be a good person to give it to, simply because he doesn’t read or write for enjoyment. A teacher (and they don’t have to be language arts teachers to do this) even could help. Just make sure they’re not just going to say “Oh, ____________ that’s great! This is perfect! It’s the next bestseller!” Because, it’s not going to be. Unless you’ve worked with editors and everyone like that, nothing you’ve written is going to be perfect. It’s just the truth of it. If you’re looking for a critique partner, look for a critique partner. Not only do you have to trust them with your work, but you have to trust them to be honest with you and you have to trust them to not be afraid to tell you what they really feel. 
Hanna does not know it yet but she has won The May Prize from Jackson Pearce!!!
About my writing.
I am Charlie, the cooler teen. Hanna is, of course, the cuter teen.
