Monday, November 21, 2011

4 1st 5 Pages November Workshop - K.Stickrath

Name: Kimberly C. Stickrath
Genre: Middle-Grade Fantasy
AGGIE WINKUM AND THE SNOOTAGUS
Submission: 2.a

Once upon a time in the land of Ifanwhen, there lived a little girl named Aggie Winkum. Her life was filled with laughter and love and the constant scent of blooming flowers. But that was before the Awful Spring.


“Mommy?”


Until the Awful Spring, Aggie had never known a day of true sadness in her life...but The Sadness, when it came, crept in like a shamed wet dog, head low and tail down, and it brought with it the rain. Rain that clung to mud with the desperation of a drowning child. Rain that ate the blue right out of the sky and left only thick walls of grey behind. Cold, relentless rain that took hold of you and shook you in its teeth and would not let go…rain that soon gave Gramma Winkum a fever and The Newmoania. Instead of bustling and tutting and being fierce and feisty, she became weak and fragile. Gramma Winkum’s long, silver hair clung to her poor, tired face and her bright eyes dimmed like lamps when the wick went down.


“Mommy? Mommy, can I help?” It was bedtime, and Aggie was only a pale shadow flickering uncertainly in the doorway of her grandmother’s room. She watched, wincing, as Mommy thumped Gramma’s frail back with the sides of her hands, just so’s Gramma Winkum could breathe. Daddy was watching them behind the mist of the steam kettle with tight, worried eyes, never saying around a word.


“Mommy?” This time Aggie more mouthed the word than whispered it, but her mother seemed to hear. Mrs. Winkum looked over Gramma’s thin shoulders and frowned sadly, shaking her head. The message was clear. Aggie was to be very, very quiet so as not to be disturbing them. Gramma coughed and coughed and gasped for breath. And Aggie tiptoed away, wishing she hadn’t seen her grandmother’s backbones poking through the cotton shift, or that she hadn’t seen the way Gramma’s coughs racked through her body.


Before the rains, Mommy and Gramma Winkum had taken in laundry and made the sheets snap and gleam with brightness. Now, the lovely sheets and linens hung like shrouds on ropes inside the house, and she was forever leaving behind the temporary water-shadows caused by the little pads of her feet as she tiptoed around the puddles beneath the sheets. Outside smelled of mold, and inside smelled of sickness and damp. The only sound was Gramma Winkum’s rough cough and Mommy’s whispered prayers. And all Aggie could do was worry in silence.


As the weeks rolled by, and poor Gramma Winkum got weaker and weaker, Aggie became quieter and quieter.


Aggie watched the rain racing down the pane of her bedroom window. She had never known such misery, and crept about the house like a mouse in the baseboards. Her open, smiling face had taken on a serious, pale aspect, and her bright eyes had become watchful and sad. Her lovely hair remained unbound and fretful, for even plaiting her braids took too much of Mommy’s precious attention from Gramma Winkum. And if that weren’t enough, her bestest friend Billy Brown (who knew all kinds of wonderful, useful things, including a little magic) was visiting a cousin over-the-hills-away, and he didn’t even know when he would get back!


She thought about the wilted flowers that drooped and mourned over Gramma Winkum’s wedding-ring quilt, and wished for the hundredth time that the weather would just turn long enough for her to replace them. It didn’t seem right.


It used to be that when the spring came, Aggie would march out with the biggest basket she could find and bring home the most beautiful blooms the hills could offer. More often than not, Aggie found so many daffodils brown-eyed Susans and Queen Anne’s lace that her mother and her grandmother had to use every vase, pitcher, and cup in the house. Sometimes, Aggie’s flowers even took over the bathtub, and petals and leaves seemed to be growing over the sides as the blooms spilled out over the edges. Her mother would sigh, and her grandmother would flutter about tutting to herself that they would soon have a honey-hive in the best cupboard. However, her father would ruffle Aggie’s hair and smile and remind them that there were worse things in the world than a little girl and her flowers…and that a house that smelled of fresh flowers was always a welcome place to be.


That night, as she had for so many nights since Gramma got sick, Aggie crept into bed, with an unkissed forehead and no soft whisper for pleasant dreams.


But the next morning,

4 comments:

  1. I think this is much, much better. Less precious, but still keeping the lovely description. Much more evocative, as well, and melancholy, in the best possible way. It sort of suggests conflict right from the jump, and we're already rooting for her. I like it.

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  2. I like this far better than your first. The imagery and language is beautiful, and instead of being too sweet, there's trouble and conflict. I like that the beginning gets right down to the business of there being a problem, which made me interested to find out what it was and how Aggie would solve it.

    The story is also more personable. Instead of lots of backstory about Aggie, this revision carried a sense of who she is and how important her family is to her.

    There are a couple of places that bothered me. The first was in the first paragraph:

    "Once upon a time in the land of Ifanwhen, there lived a little girl named Aggie Winkum. Her life was filled with laughter and love and the constant scent of blooming flowers. But that was before the Awful Spring."

    I don't think the first sentence is necessary. Also it's so cliche that my mind buzzed right over it. You could possibly say something along the lines: "Aggie Winkum's life had always been filled with laughter and love..., but that was before the Awful Spring" and get rid of it entirely.

    The second spot that jarred me was here:

    "And if that weren’t enough, her bestest friend Billy Brown (who knew all kinds of wonderful, useful things, including a little magic) was visiting a cousin over-the-hills-away, and he didn’t even know when he would get back!"

    The phrase "bestest friend Billy Brown" sounded like you were talking down to the readers, and it pulled me right out of the story. It seemed the way an adult might talk to a two- or three-year-old rather than a middle grader. I just can't see an Elementary age kid of today enjoying that. Just an opinion, of course.

    Looking forward to your next revision!

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  3. Kimberly,

    I'll join the chorus of saying how much I like this revision. You've done a great job of toning down the too sweet while still preserving the same basic goodness of Aggie and her home. The conflict you now introduce earlier makes your beginning so much more real and gripping.

    And your descriptions continue to be just awesome. I loved this especially:

    The Sadness, when it came, crept in like a shamed wet dog, head low and tail down...

    One thing I didn't understand was that first "Mommy" between the first and second full paragraphs. I guess it's there to hint at what's coming, but to me it just seemed rather out of place.

    I also loved this:

    Aggie crept into bed, with an unkissed forehead and no soft whisper for pleasant dreams.

    It tugged at my heart. Nicely done!

    The only change I would suggest to this version would be to see if you can weave it a bit more pro-action for Aggie. Basically, she's just watching and staying out of the way. It doesn't have to be much, but could we see Aggie act a couple of times in this scene? I know you have her asking her mom to help, but one or two more.

    For example, you have:

    Aggie watched the rain racing down the pane of her bedroom window.

    But instead of just watching it, she could trace the path of the drops, or make pictures of the streams in her mind, or possibly even get a cloth and try to patch up a small hole where the water leaked into the house. Anything that shows her acting. Like I said, just one or two of these would help.

    Great job!
    Susan

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  4. The descriptive language is beautiful and I much prefer the way you've woven Aggie's character into the prose.

    I do wonder, however, whether the age group you're aiming for needs an earlier hook of some kind? Åggie seems to be active and engaged but she doesn't seem to do very much - it makes it hard to really identify with her. I was also a bit puzzled by the first 'Mommy?'

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