Ack! Forgot to put the explanation for the Double Kay name. Sorry about that: editing it now.
Novel or no novel, that is the question
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Good job, I have enjoyed reading it! But yeah, you still forgot to explain the "Double Kay" name (I think). I'm looking forward for more of this story.
Thanks for all the positive feedback, Svetla!
I attempted to explain the Double Kay name when Emerald's father refers to him as "Kyle Katsampes" (his real name) and his mother says, "You mean Double Kay?" If this needs revision and/or is sloppy, please let me know. I am WIDE open to suggestions.
Oh, duh. The double K's. 
LOL no problem. :)
Okay. I think the writing is good, and way beyond what I would expect from a 7th grader, so good on you. I will critique it freely, because it is so strong. Most of the problems are minor in nature.
'Emerald looked up to Raymond far....' Between that and the next sentance, you use the word far twice, please reconsider.
Could you tell us for what reason or why Emerald mourned with Raymond? That is interesting and could use a brief explanation or even a scene to show us their previous closeness as opposed to just telling us.
'When the news was broadcast of his leave..' is clunky and unnatural. Could you try something like---The evening Raymond sought Emerald out in his bedroom to tell him the news..., and give us a bit of the conversation, as this is also an interesting interaction that is rich with possibilities and will make us identify with your characters more.
I like the chess board scene. It is nicely done.
'Suddenly, footsteps... doen't work so well. At that point in the story, Emerald is lost in his thoughts. Could your try--- Emerald was startled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching his door, or something like that? Suddenly' is of little value here.
'Two men stood there looking at Emerald...'is unnatural. Could you try---his
father stood there with another man... Also we don't need to hear that one man was 'obviously' his father. That is understood.
Hair circling his mouth paints a picture that is a bit confusing. Could you word it a bit differently?
I like how you introduced the tutor before we knew what was happening. The backfilling of information works well in this case. A small thing I noticed is that you say that Emerald spent far more time studying, even to the point that his parents were surprised, and yet they still bring the tutor in. It might be a bit more logical if the opposite had happened with Emerald. Such as cutting classes, parent - teacher meetings to discuss his dropping grades, a fight at school etc. Do you see the logic here?
I am of course quite curious about Kyle. I would like to see his world. It would be fun if Emerald had to go to Kyle's place to meet him. That is a treasure trove of interesting descriptions and reactions from Emerald waiting to be mined. Also, I don't really see the hook, the setup that makes me want to stay up beyond my bedtime reading. It obviously has to do with Kyle, so I would like to see something of a hint (indirect, dont beat us over the head with it) about what Kyle's plans, abilities, history, inclinations etc. are.
Anyhow, most of this criticism is more or less nit picking. You are a natural writer, and I encourage you to find some writing classes and develop this talent.
Charlie
"Every artist is a cannibal, every poet a thief. All would kill their inspiration and sing about their grief"
Read! Read and read more.
You are writing which is good, but in writing good is not enough.
Good fiction is easy, great fiction is close to impossible. Bad fiction spreads more often than a whores legs, or shall I write, like an infection.
My long lean years spent, borrowed or stolen: like a jailhouse bird who refused to sing, learned song!
That I have been extended in sum, either out of virtue, deed, folly, creed, or imaginative constructs: the world, which is you, devastated my internal criticism and reinforced my doubt of all other's everywhere. Understand the voice within. Begin not to begin again: never borrow or steal. Hard to do? Most never relinquish phobia or at worse love.
Steven King made it. And he is the first to admit that he is no literati. Thoroughly read! And if received through objectivity one may also be fully paid. Try to write at a higher level, yet, do not confuse pop art with formative concept.
"In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michaelangelo."
Make it work out, the words. Most important is the sentence!
Example: The dark, menacing clouds from which they came soared overhead through the sky, shouting unspoken curses that filled the house with an aura of inevitable depression.
What does this add? Emotion! Causation! Certainly not structure. An economy of words will enrich a story, thickly encumbered reasons cannot tell the story of your mind. Edit, rewrite. Destroy that which you love so too learn to hate, then love it more so without being vain. Try not to emulate Halden, it has already been done, and by a master.
Let the music play sorrow, not the opposite.
Your first paragraph is thickly played, encumbered and needless. You could just as easily wrote, "I am depressed, feelings of abandonment and fruitless hope grow like weeds over my pathless future. Damn him, my hope, my love, for creating a new garden where my seed never fell." Listen not read, This is just an example of the type of presentation which grabs, not grasps.
Look, I only add my opinion. Nothing is fact, and as your story try's to float down stream, I was caught again and again in eddies of huh. Chess + Family + Strangers + Loss + Inhibitive rebellion + no plot!!!= yawn.
You have intuition, but so do palm readers; and I never have read a palm that I considered re-readable.
Peace and good luck.
Pawnsolo, I find certain parts of your comment alright and others downright harsh.
First of all, your saying that my first paragraph is needless: Yes, you could sum it up much more quickly but that is the point. :) You could sum up almost any book in a short paragraph, but the point of paragraphs is to add emotion. You want to bring your reader into the book so that he or she feels like they are the Point of View Character (in this case, Emerald). That is what I attempted with my first paragraph, and your example of how you could sum it up certainly didn't bring me in or sound inviting at all.
The next thing you said about the story not having any plot: The story has quite a plot. The plot is that Emerald is going to begin learning from this new teacher while dealing with the loss of his brother. And there is more to it than that, which will be revealed in the next chapters. Rarely does a book introduce the whole entire plot in the first chapter. That's what keeps the readers reading-they don't know everything that's going to happen, the problems the main character faces, etc.
"You have intuition, but so do palm readers; and I never have read a palm that I considered re-readable."
This part of your comment is unnecessary, needless, and rather spiteful, wouldn't you say?
I assure that my comments were not personal. At present I am at work and have no time to correspond, but I will write some later in the evening.
The last comment was more trite than spiteful, but not needles.
Okay, as to wanting to debate criticism with a critic. Pointless. This is YOUR story, YOUR voice, and YOUR talent. By focusing on me and not my meaning you loose the very essence of having one not pat you on the back and say, "Good job, all is great! Keep it up."
I write as a poet, not a novelist. My form is esoteric not functional. So no excuse or apology for not offering up a more tasty lingua to satisfy your palette. Easily I could say yours version is watered down, and you add that mine is pig vomit. But that will not help you to temper your craft, and therefor I think you are missing the point.
Economy of words!
That is what my example was to show, capturing the emotion of your primary character is not the problem, too understand how, when and where one must break up the structure so too let thoughts flow with fluidity from one to another, thus allowing the reader to know when a thought or mood or tone shift has occurred in the writing is paramount.
As for plot, as a reader, either you grab me and slap my attention your way, or I put the story down and go for a swim. Why should I care about the character? That is where a plot, or story line will make me want to read, entice me to want to become one with the protagonist and not put the book down.
Dan Brown does this well. Character first, plot second.
You have talent, and as you grow I hope you will find that those who offer the harsher views do so not to break you down, but, like adding manure to a freshly planted garden, the shit will help the growth. When you enter into college level courses, you may find that my comments are mild by comparison. Believe me, most of what I have offered up over the years was destroyed. That is how I became more solid in my abilities. Once I stopped taking it personal, I learned how to listen to what is being said, not how it is.
Peace and good luck.
This is a rough chapter one of a fiction novel I am working on. I have had a long and not so good past with fiction. I wrote several fantasy stories as a very young child which I never finished, partly because I did not have the commitment and partly because they were no good. Now, in 7th grade, I've decided to come back and see what I can do with a full-fledged book with the strongest commitment. Prepare to be amazed...and prepare to be distraught. :)
Heavy drops of rain landed like pebbles on the window of Emerald’s room. The dark, menacing clouds from which they came soared overhead through the sky, shouting unspoken curses that filled the house with an aura of inevitable depression. Emerald was young, short, brown-haired, and generally positive. But this day was quite different then than the rest. He sat on his bed with a blank expression on his face, watching the ferocious storm that was occuring outside his window. What luck, he thought. This foul weather only worsens the loss. For his brother, Raymond (who was nine years his superior), had announced his departure to Oxford University a month before, and had gone through with the decision only an hour before. Raymond was tall, had jet-black hair, and was of medium build. He always had a serious and confident expression on his face. Emerald had looked up to Raymond far more than anyone else in his life. At a far younger age, he attempted to mimic everything Raymond said and did. He played with Raymond, talked with Raymond, and even mourned with Raymond. But as of the past year he had become far more independent, and thus he had focused less on his fellowship with Emerald and more on his own future, his own plans, and his own life. When the news was broadcast of his leave, Emerald’s heart had sunk with immeasurable sorrow he had never felt before. This grief was anything but hidden. He had lost his old, chipper, and usually positive self and had grown silent and lonely. What normally would have come out of his mouth remained inside his head, and he began to spend much more time studying (to the great surprise of his parents, to whom he was known for his rather negative outlook on school and anything related to it).
After a few minutes of dwelling on this, Emerald decided it was not worth wasting time thinking about. He silently strolled over to his desk that was covered in school papers and schoolbooks. His tournament chess set was set up in the middle of it all. Dust distorted everything like a cloud of smoke. Emerald blew a strong gust of wind to clear most of it off of the chess pieces, and proceeded to play himself a game. That was something he never did for fear that he might lose objectivity with risky sacrifices and dubious moves. I don’t care if I lose objectivity, or most anything else, for that matter, Emerald thought. I just wish my brother had not left.
Suddenly, footsteps could be heard at the staircase outside of his bedroom door. Emerald glanced up from his chess set and stared at the door, expecting his mother or his father. When the door opened, two men stood there looking at Emerald. One was very obviously his father, but the other was simply unrecognizable. His misty white hair, rather than setting atop his head, circled his mouth and flew down his torso like a waterfall. His shirt, which was gray with a thick white stripe running horizontally across the center, was partly hidden beneath a black leather jacket. He carried a large briefcase, which was also black, and his pleasant face and old age radiated wisdom and serenity. Emerald’s father was the first to speak.
“Hi, Emerald,” he said. “I want you to meet a friend of mine.” He pointed at the man standing beside him. “This is Kyle.”
With a small wave, the other man said, “Hello, Emerald.”
“Hi,” Emerald replied, his eyes fixed on Kyle.
“He’s going to be your new tutor. He thought he’d come to visit and introduce himself before we start the lessons tomorrow. So I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
“Ok,” Emerald said, his voice slightly shaking. He had heard his mother and father discussing this a few days ago. He was wary of the idea and did not think it a very good one, but the departure of his brother had made him forget all of those past feelings.
*****
“I think we need to hire a personal instructor to teach the kid,” Emerald’s father said. “This public school is not working out at all. I was thinking about hiring Kyle Katsampes.”
“You mean Double Kay? I don't know. Are you sure you want to do it this quickly?” his mother said. “It’s only been three weeks into the public school curriculum.”
“I really don’t think this is what God wants for us. It seems as though there’s something better.”
Emerald, who was listening from his room with Raymond, was growing increasingly nervous. “I don't even know who Kyle Katsampes is," he said. “What if he's mean or get angry easily?”
“Don’t worry about it, Emerald,” said Raymond. “Mom and Dad know what they’re doing. They’ll be able to determine a good teacher from a bad one, supposing they go through with this.”
*****
As Emerald’s father left, Kyle wandered through the room over to Emerald’s desk. Looking at the chess set, he said, “Playing yourself, eh?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Emerald responded.
Chuckling, Kyle said, “I used to do that as well when I was your age."
“You’re Double Kay?” Emerald said nervously. A wide smile grew over Kyle’s face.
“I am called that by most in this neighborhood, yes,” he replied. “I presume you know that chess is one of my required classes?”
Emerald suddenly lit up from the inside out. “I was hoping so!” he said with irrepressible excitement.
“Well, consider your hope fulfilled.”
“I’m not a great chess player, but a lot of people around here would like to think that I am.”
Resting his eyes on the board, Double Kay responded, “And I can see why. You do know this is the entire theory of the Najdorf Sicilian opening, don’t you?”
Recognizing the Najdorf Sicilian as the name of one of many ways to start a chess game, Emerald nodded. He was beginning to enjoy the company of this new instructor.
“So,” Double Kay said. “Shall we play a game of chess or not?” Emerald smiled from ear to ear.
“You bet,” he said. Immediately he set up another chair on the other side of the desk and sat down at the side with the White pieces. Double Kay raised an eyebrow at Emerald, seemingly trying to help him remember something. Emerald looked down at the chessboard again, realizing that a White pawn and a Black pawn were missing.
“Lord have mercy,” said Double Kay. “You didn’t forget the selecting of colors, did you?” The elderly instructor held out two fists to Emerald, who remembered the routine. He had to pick a fist, and whichever color of pawn was in the selected fist was the color he would use. Emerald, somewhat ashamed, chose the fist to his right, which was revealed to be the White pawn. Double Kay immediately spoke. “Good choice.” With a smile on his face he pulled out the other chair and plopped himself down in it. Emerald, playing as White, made the first move to begin the game.
Emerald played an opening move that was known to chess players as the “Polish Opening”. This was an unorthodox push of a pawn close to the side of the board, which was rarely played at top level. Nonetheless, Double Kay played almost all of his moves automatically like he knew the line inside and out. After the opening had concluded, Emerald felt himself becoming quite distraught. He did not play this line on a regular basis and was rather clueless as to how to continue. Finally he decided to meekly push a pawn, immediately seeing another clearly better move developing his knight usefully. Double Kay only had to think for a few moments before seeing an aggressive queen move he had that would quickly take advantage of Emerald’s mistake by challenging weak territory he had left behind.
If you have ever played a game of chess and wound up in a terrible position, you know the feeling that Emerald had at this point in the game. As he inwardly panicked, his ears grew blazingly hot and he began to sweat profusely. He played a passive rook move that he knew from experience was inferior, but he simply could not decide on anything better. Double Kay smiled at Emerald, causing him to realize that he had just left a pawn open for capture. What on earth possessed me to play that move? Emerald thought, quite embarrassed that he was playing a very bad game.
Only five moves later did Double Kay have a completely won position-a rattled Emerald had had quite enough, and attempted a risky rook sacrifice. Double Kay refuted the line as if he had this entire game completely rehearsed. Emerald, confused, beaten, and a bit irritated, tipped over his king in resignation of the game. Double Kay stretched out his hand, which was quickly shaken by his student’s.
“You played a pretty offbeat line, wouldn’t you say?” he said.
“To be honest, I’m feeling a bit off today,” Emerald replied. Double Kay breathed out a heavy sigh and began speaking in a much softer voice.
“I understand your brother has left,” he said with apparent compassion. Emerald couldn’t speak. It was too grieving a subject to discuss with a person he barely knew. “I went through the same thing as a 15 year old. My older brother, who was 19, decided to leave the house to go to college. As it turned out, he had been preparing for five years without telling anyone, and he left two days after informing us.”
“What happened after that?” Emerald asked.
“It was two months before I could bring myself to do much anything else except read. I read anything there was to read-science fiction, realistic fiction, and some non-fiction as well. In a lot of those stories, I saw that there were many characters that had gone through the same thing I had. They mourned and grieved, too. That’s a part of life. But they did not grieve forever. They had the power to overcome that loss, and to realize that they could move on with life instead of wallowing in sorrow as I had. And when I realized that I could put the loss in perspective and make myself productive, I did.”
Emerald paused. He certainly didn’t feel like making himself in any way productive, or putting this loss behind him. But before he had a chance to speak, Double Kay stood up and began talking again. “Well, I must be off,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning for our first lesson. Will you be alright?” Emerald was hesitant, but brought himself to respond.
“Yeah, I think so,” he said.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Until then, God bless.”
Double Kay left the room to meet Emerald’s father before departing. Emerald followed him out from a distance. “Thank you for allowing me to meet your boy,” Double Kay said.
“No problem,” Emerald’s father said.
“He seems like a very bright kid. I’ll be back tomorrow morning at 7:00am.”
“Alright. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Good bye.” Double Kay walked out the door with a low wave. Emerald did not know what to think. He had enjoyed the man’s pleasant demeanor, his love for chess, and his joyous smile, but there was still the fact that he did not know much about him, let alone his teaching routines. Only time would tell what this new teacher had in store for him.
So, was this good quality or bad quality?