Britney the Dwarf Princess by Crystal Charee

This is another piece of my own writing. The story is about a little person who lives in our ordinary world and gets pulled into an alternate universe where dwarves actually live under mountains and sing “Heigh Ho” — basically, her nightmare. In this early draft, Brittany has twelve foster kids and is supposed to make it a baker’s dozen by the end of the book. I’ve started this story over at least three times; this was the first attempt. If you’d like to compare it to my latest version, you can find it on my portfolio blog here.

[TRIGGER WARNING:  I use the words “dwarf” and “dwarves” throughout this post to describe fictional beings who live under mountains and mine for jewels, and “little person” to describe actual humans from our world. This story explores how the cartoonification of little people into a separate race has been damaging — but if this language feels uncomfortable, please feel free to skip this one.

I’m not a little person, and I don’t claim to speak for that community. I’m simply trying to explore an issue I don’t often see addressed in fiction. Despite the serious subject, this isn’t a dark or heavy story — it’s a middle-grade fantasy adventure that happens to center a little person as the hero.]

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Original (2006)

A bevvy of fluttering papers greeted Brittany as she entered the den. Small children and loose pages littered the room. Tom jumped up as she entered the room. "Here's mine!" he exclaimed, thrusting a crayoned sun into her hands. He checked his watch, then sighed in relief. He looked at Brittany accusingly. "You were almost late." Then he smiled. "But you weren't." He skipped over to the TV and sat next to Vic. He checked his watch again, and switched off the video game that Vic was glued to. A year younger than Tom, Vic just looked at him in bemusement.

Brittany walked through the room, picking up final submissions for the gallery. Sophie, situated in the window seat and pretending to read a book handed hers over to Brittany without glancing up. Renee waited quietly until Brittany reached him. He handed his up to her, intent gaze searching for her initial reaction. She smiled approvingly, and moved on to Verlee, who was writhing in her seat.

The children weren't allowed to beg their way into the Top Five, and Brittany saw Verlee's lips clamp shut as she handed her drawing. Her eyes were filled with yearning to be picked and the absolute self-control it took not to speak. Her mouth opened and Brittany's brows rose. Verlee said, "It's got a spell on it. It only works if you say it when you REALLY want to be somewhere else, and you hafta find a four-leaf clover and spin three times in the direction the wind is blowing. And you hafta be outside for it to work." She paused, and her eyes lit with inspiration. "Oh, and it only works on your birthday!" Her eyes grew wide, and she clamped her mouth shut again.

As she started to leave the room, a couple of sheets were tossed toward her feet. Looking in the direction they came from, she saw Jay, looking away, uninterested. Brittany suppressed a smile, and picked up the pages. She left the room, taking one last glance at the inhabitants. Vic, Gerry, Tita, Lena, Wil, Emma, Tom, and Andy were all absorbed in their various activities. Some were getting their galleries ready for the next week.

Four auras stood out. Verlee's squirming one, Jay's feigned indifference, Sophie's sheer expectation, and Renee's introverted intensity. Brittany sighed in relief. Choosing the Top Five should be easy enough this week. Around holidays, kids tended to go nuts, and the expectations were often too much for Brittany choose from. In that case, she handed it over to Colin.

Speaking of, there he was, sitting at his desk. Colin wasn't the best looking guy in the world, but Brittany would have been hard-pressed to find a better one. She felt her fortune as she stood in the doorway.

Brittany ran her fingers through Colin's hair that was growing a little too long down the nape of his neck. He sighed, and she kissed his neck. "Mm..." he said, turning his attention toward her.

My Revision (2025)

Britney leaned against the doorway of the den and counted her mistakes. There was Vic, a slim four-year-old in Luigi pajama bottoms and a Yoshi shirt, Kool-Aid stains permanent around his mouth, glued to Mario Kart — a game he’d play twenty-four hours a day if Britney let him.

Next to him, Tom — five, pudgy, khakis and a button-down like a tiny accountant — divided his attention between a picture book and the race on-screen.

There was Jay, sixteen, and far less surly than he had been three years ago, when he'd moved in. He sat at the coffee table next to Aura, helping her cheat on her homework.

Ten years ago, Aura had been Britney's first -- and best -- mistake. Parents weren't supposed to choose favorites, but Britney didn't really think of herself as a parent so much as a warden. Aura was special, and not in the sentimental way that most parents thought their kids were special. For one thing, Aura's birth mother was a mermaid, and for another, Aura had magical powers. 

Also, Aura was the only child Britney had adopted. The rest were all work that her social worker husband, Colin, had brought home with him. Britney had vowed to divorce him if he brought any more home. Then again, she'd made the same threat each time he brought home a kid. She was starting to think he didn't think she was serious.

Colin, Britney’s biggest mistake at six feet tall, joined her in the doorway and kissed the top of her head — a long drop from his height to her three-foot-five.

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands as he stepped into the den. “Who’s got their drawings ready?”

The weekly drawing contest had been Colin's idea, of course. They'd posted five picture frames between the two windows in the kitchen and the five winners got their drawings displayed there for the whole week.

"I do!" Tom carefully closed his picture book, set it aside, and then picked up the old leather portfolio that Colin had given him. Tom scrambled to his feet and ran over to Colin.

Colin's favorite chair, an over-sized tufted gray leather monstrosity was occupied by Tita, Jay's two-year-old sister. But Britney's small yellow chintz armchair was free, so Colin squatted down onto that, his knees jutting aggressively toward the coffee table. Colin accepted the old leather portfolio and bent over it as Tom earnestly explained each of his submissions.

Sophie, twelve years old with short dark hair, wearing a baggy but immaculate matching white sweatshirt and sweatpants, bent over Tita. Tita was chewing on her forefinger and listening to something Sophie was saying. Sophie handed Tita a piece of paper that looked like it had been torn out of a coloring book. Coloring book pages were eligible for the contest, but didn't score as high as original artwork.

Tita scooted and wriggled her way out of Colin's chair, landing on her butt. She righted herself on the floor, turned, spotted Britney, and started toddling over. She was still chewing on the finger of one hand, the other hand held the now crumpled page. Sophie, following Tita's progress with an indulgent smile, looked over, and spotted Britney. She looked embarrassed and then defiant. She folded her arms and plopped down into Colin's chair, glaring at Britney.

Sophie had only been with Britney for a couple of weeks and had the worst attitude of any of the kids Colin had brought home. The kids tended to be confused, shy, and anxious at first. Colin explained that the other kids had come directly from their family's homes to Britney's, whereas Sophie had been through several foster homes. Most kids had intrinsic trust in adults, but Sophie had learned to be wary, even aggressive. Like a cat that stands on its tiptoes and fluffs out its fur in order to trick predators into thinking it's a lion.

Britney returned her attention to Tita, who was navigating around the coffee table and through the myriad of toys littering the room like an obstacle course. Just a couple of feet away from Britney, she stepped on a stuffed elephant and almost lost her footing. After regaining her balance, she continued to toddle, dark ringlets bouncing, finger still in mouth, paper crumpled in her fist.

"Is this for me?" Britney asked, feigning surprise.

Tita thrust the paper out. She unclenched her fist.

Britney caught the page before it fell to the floor. "Ooh, thank you so much," she cooed.

Tita grinned and held out her arms in the universal signal that she wanted to be picked up. They were nearly the same height, so Britney just plopped down on the carpet, pulling Tita into a snuggle. Tita leaned her head against Britney's shoulder, exchanged her forefinger for her thumb, and seemed to fall asleep.

One arm cradling Tita, Britney did her best to use the other hand to flatten the paper against the carpet. Sophie was still lounging on Colin's chair, one leg hooked over an arm. As Britney looked up, she could tell that Sophie looked away quickly, pretending to watch Vic play Mario Kart.

The page was from an activity coloring book. It was a game of Hangman. The clue was a slice of cake. The word should’ve been four letters, but Sophie had added four more, spelling out B-R-I-T-T-A-N-Y. Then she had filled out the stick "man" with all four limbs. She'd also filled in the face with two x's for eyes and a mouth that was just a tongue hanging out.

Britney couldn’t help but laugh. She looked up at Sophie, whose stoic glare had—just for a second—turned to shock. Maybe even relief.

It was the expression of a twelve-year-old girl, not a jaded thirty-year-old woman, and it gave Britney hope.

(Original word count: ~500 → Edited: ~970)

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Critique

The origin of the premise goes back to a friend I had on a message board who was a little person. She lamented how few fictional stories there are about little people, and I thought, I can fix that (nineteen years ago, lol). I started with the idea of a little person from our world meeting and interacting with storybook dwarves — half Disney, half Tolkien.

In the original excerpt, Verlee’s poem was an actual spell that worked, and Britney found herself in the dwarf world alone. The kids (and Colin) had to rescue her, and the story alternated between Britney and the rescue team.

So… if the whole idea behind the premise was to take a little person from our non-magical world and put her in a fantasy-like setting where dwarves are a separate race — why did I give her a daughter with magical powers?

To be fair to 2006 me, I never really fixed that. In the updated version, Britney adopts the baby with magical powers from a mermaid, which doesn’t exactly help with the “our world” issue. However, until Britney meets the mermaid, she believes they’re mythical — and it makes sense to her that a mermaid’s baby would be magical. (It turns out the baby just has psychic AI earrings, but that doesn’t come up until her own POV story.)

Setting
We have a pretty standard den — a TV, a kid playing video games, a window seat. It’s the bare minimum for a scene like this, but it gets the job done. There are flying papers and some crayons, which add a hint of life. The crayons hint at bright color, but otherwise, the space feels unanchored — like a room floating in space. There are no real colors, smells, or textures grounding it.

For my revision, I gave Britney and Colin their own favorite chairs and added a coffee table — still pretty bare bones, but not as floaty. The nice thing about realistic settings is that you can rely on reader experience to fill in the blanks, but I’ll refining the space in future drafts.

Characterization
There are twelve kids in the room, but only four (five, if you count Vic) have action in the scene. The characters we meet are basic sketches: Tom is sturdy and earnest — a little too cute, maybe. Vic’s personality is “video games.” Verlee is creative, Sophie’s a bookworm. For my revision, I gave the kids unique looks: Sophie in her pristine oversized sweatshirt, Tita with her ringlets, Tom with his little Assistant Manager vibe. Vic finally got an outfit this time — on theme with his Mario obsession.

The biggest offender is Britney herself, who’s supposed to come from a non-magical world but somehow can see auras? I meant that as empathy — she could “read” emotions — but it doesn’t come through that way.

I realized that I originally wrote Britney as the kind of mom I thought I would be — so attuned to her kids’ emotions that she could keep them all happy and stable. I still don’t have kids, and don’t want them, partly because I’ve realized I don’t have that kind of intuition. Kids are fascinating, terrifying little mysteries I have no interest in solving. So, I took away Britney’s sixth sense and made her a little more bewildered about what to do with Sophie. I like that by the end of the scene, she feels a little more like she can be a foster parent to such an untrusting, troubled girl.

When I wrote the original version, I thought adding a thirteenth character was too much work. Turns out, like any good partner, Colin halves the burden. He focuses on the easy kids so that our POV character, Britney, can focus on Sophie.

The quickest way to get to know a group of characters is through their interactions. Colin with Tom; Jay with Aura; Sophie with Tita; then Tita with Britney, and finally a silent exchange between Sophie and Britney.

Struggling with this scene in 2006 taught me it’s best to introduce characters one at a time, so each gets their spotlight. Then, when you reach a group scene later, you’re not juggling introductions and action at the same time. It’s like writing your story on Hard Mode.

That said, I’m at almost double the word count of the original and have still only introduced half the kids. I’d never start another novel with a group scene of thirteen people, but if you have to, let the biggest personalities shine and be okay with the reader getting to know the quieter ones later.

Conflict / Tension
In the original, there’s no conflict between the kids, so the only tension comes from Britney sensing who really wants to make it into the Top Five. But we’ve got a dozen kids in one room — and no one’s biting, crying, or shouting? Actually, that’s fine. There’s none of that in the revision, either.

The bigger issue is purpose. The scene’s meant to introduce the characters and show Britney’s dynamic with the kids — but doesn’t. Tom’s the only one who even looks her in the face. It’s also supposed to ground the fantastical story in realism, which sort of works, but only just.

In the rewrite, I made the main conflict between Sophie and Britney. Having Sophie use Tita as a messenger for her saucy note was not only inappropriate but perfect — it adds both conflict and character. When Britney laughs it off, it diffuses the immediate tension but leaves a subtle “this isn’t over” simmer beneath the surface. I like that. It promises more to come — that the emotional dynamics will matter just as much as the adventure itself.

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Final Thoughts

I was unusually close to my mom — cough, codependent — and she was the most fascinating person I knew: funny, thoughtful, deeply philosophical. I thought it was strange that books for kids teach so much about relating to other kids, but not about relating to adults. Authority figures weren’t real people; they existed to praise or punish. So if I could pat my 2006 self on the back for anything, it would be combining two underexplored areas of literature: stories about little people, and stories for kids who have parents who are people, not archetypes.

The revised scene isn’t perfect — I still only addressed half of the kids — but it works so much better, and it’s revived my interest in this version of the story. Fortunately, Britney’s magical daughter has the ability to travel through the multiverse, so now she can visit this version of her mother.

The Magical Beasts Calls Me Mother by Rojeen_Zara

Blurb

I died from exhaustion in a world that never wanted me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer a nameless office worker...
I was the beloved daughter of a duke inside a novel I once read.

But here's the problem:
I'm not the heroine.
I'm not the villainess.
I'm just the "ex-friend" side character who was supposed to fade away quietly.

That was my plan too-
...until I stumbled upon a black dragon's egg.
Until it hatched and called me "Mother."
Until it transformed into a child and dragged me into the center of every noble's gossip, every battle, and... every man's heart.

Now the male lead won't stop appearing in my life, the second male lead keeps getting too close, and even the villain himself seems interested in me.

And worst of all? The so-called heroine is furious that everything she wanted... is becoming mine.

I never asked for this.
But if fate insists on putting me in the spotlight-
then fine.
I'll shine brighter than anyone else.

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Original (First 500)

Warmth.

It was the first thing I felt. The kind of warmth I had never known in my life.

When I opened my eyes, sunlight spilled across silk curtains the color of dawn. My body sank into a mattress so soft I thought I was still dreaming.

"Celestria, you're awake."

I froze. The voice was gentle. Loving. So unlike the one I grew up with.

A woman sat by my bedside, her golden hair coiled elegantly, her emerald eyes shimmering with relief. She reached out and touched my cheek as though I were the most precious thing in the world. 

"My darling daughter, you frightened me. You've been asleep for so long."

Daughter.

The word pierced through me. My throat tightened. My adoptive mother had only ever spat that word at me like a curse. But this woman...she said it as though it were a blessing.

"...Mother?" My voice cracked.

Her eyes softened further, and she gathered me into her arms. "Yes, I'm here. Your mother is here."

I couldn't stop it. Tears burned my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. I clutched her gown as if she would vanish.

She stroked my hair patiently. "Shh, you're safe. Your father and brother will be overjoyed to hear you've woken."

Father? Brother?

I pulled back, blinking rapidly. My gaze darted across the room -- gilded furniture, crystal vases, walls adorned with paintings that looked centuries old. Nothing about this resembled my dingy apartment or the office where I'd collapsed.

And then...memory hit me like storm.

The novel.

I knew this place. I had read these very descriptions.

This was the Arden Duchy. The home of Celestria Arden, the duke's beloved daughter. A side character in the story.

My heart pounded in my chest. If I was here, that meant...

I wasn't the heroine.

I wasn't the villainess.

I was the girl destined to stand in the background until she disappeared from the story altogether. 

The door burst open before I could breathe.

"Celestria!"

A tall man with silver hair and commanding presence rushed in -- the Duke himself. Behind him, a boy around my age with stormy blue eyes barreled past, nearly tripping in his haste. 

"Sister!" the boy cried, grabbing my hand. 

I stared at them -- at the father and brother I'd never had in my real life.

They looked at me as though I were their treasure.

My lips trembled. This wasn't possible. None of this was possible.

And yet, when my father's large hand rested protectively on my shoulder and my brother grinned as though I'd hung the moon, I couldn't help but whisper the one truth my heart knew:

For the first time in my life...I was loved.

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Critique

This is a showcase post — an excerpt of the first 500 words of a novel that are so good, I don’t see any reason for my own edit. This will still be a critique, but it’s mostly a highlight of excellent work, with discussion of a couple of areas I wanted to nitpick.Let’s start with the easiest fix: the title. It has too many plurals. It should either be The Magical Beasts Call Me Mother or The Magical Beast Calls Me Mother, depending on how many magical beasts call her “Mother.” Based on the blurb, it’s only one.

The blurb is great. For most posts on this blog, I try to provide a more compelling or cohesive blurb than the author provided — that wasn’t necessary here. The author describes her story beautifully.

The first line, “I died from exhaustion in a world that never wanted me,” is intriguing but heartbreaking. In the next line, she opens her eyes, and in the line after that, she’s a character in a novel. Each successive line escalates with more intriguing detail: from a world that never wanted her, to being fine with being a side character destined to fade out of the story, to this crescendo:

But if fate insists on putting me in the spotlight-/then fine./I'll shine brighter than anyone else.We do get a bit Mary Sue-ish. Every guy in the book falls in love with her, including the villain. But I’m fine with it. I’ve never had a problem with self-insert characters; they get to be what I want to be; the smartest, most talented, most desirable person in the room. A character doesn’t need to be fatally flawed to be interesting. Conflict and tension can come from choices, rivals — life.

Similarly to the blurb, the writing in Chapter 1 is poetic, and in fact repeats a couple of the same lines as she realizes she’s a character in a book: “I wasn’t the heroine./I wasn’t the villainess.” The next line differs from the blurb: “I’m just the ‘ex-friend’ side character who was supposed to fade away quietly.” This feels contemporary and slightly jarring against the poetic rest of the blurb.

The line in the book, “I was the girl destined to stand in the background until she disappeared from the story altogether,” is much stronger. It matches the poetic feel of the prose and says so much. Compare “ex-friend” to “girl”: an ex is nebulous — the victim or the villain — whereas “girl” feels more innocent, less powerful. Compare “fade away quietly” to “disappeared completely”: both are beautiful, but “disappeared completely” is so final.

Setting
Here are some setting descriptions: “sunlight spilled across silk curtains the color of dawn” and “a mattress so soft I thought I was still dreaming” scream luxury even before we get to “gilded furniture, crystal vases, walls adorned with paintings that looked centuries old.”

The setting tells us the MC didn’t wake up as a peasant on a straw mattress or a hard, cold ground. She woke up as a princess (daughter of a duke — but what’s the diff?). We get texture with silk, soft, gilded, crystal. For color, we get “the color of dawn.” There’s just enough imagery for the reader to fill in the details without slowing the pace of the MC’s realizations.

That said, the room could use a few more colors and some additional physical description. The bed could be a canopy, there could be a chest of drawers, candlelight, or a book that her mother is reading before Celestria wakes up — something period-specific to set the scene. Very short mentions of clothing would help too: a “brocaded gown” for the mom, “doublet and hose” for the father and brother would immediately evoke a medieval vibe.

Characterization
The heart of this chapter beats through the MC’s interactions with her new family. Her mother’s “golden hair coiled elegantly” and “emerald eyes shimmering with relief,” the father’s “commanding presence,” and the brother’s “stormy blue eyes” all frame a scene overflowing with tenderness. The mother touches her cheek “as though I were the most precious thing in the world,” and the father and brother “looked at me as though I were their treasure.”

What saves the reader from going into sugar shock is the MC’s memory of her old life. When her mother calls her “daughter,” the MC thinks, “My adoptive mother had only ever spat that word at me like a curse. But this woman… she said it as though it were a blessing.” That contrast gives the emotion its weight.

As someone who’s been abused and neglected, the MC could react with suspicion or discomfort — but instead, she cries and accepts the affection. That choice tells us she’s not naive, just starved for love. Even her calm acceptance of waking up in a novel feels believable: people who’ve survived chaotic households are experts at adapting to sudden shifts in reality.

The family’s one-note warmth works here because the chapter ends before it overstays its welcome. If the chapter lingered longer, we’d need a little more complexity. Even naming the parents and brother would add dimension.

The brother could use a distinct moment. He’s uninhibited; maybe he climbs onto the bed before being gently scolded. How the parents handle that tells us more about the household’s emotional rules than paragraphs of exposition could.

Finally, it might help to clarify whether the MC still has her own memories or any of Celestria’s. Her physical state — any lingering pain or dizziness from Celestria’s “injury” — could also ground the scene. Those small details of body and memory would make this lovely, dreamlike opening feel just a little more real.

Conflict/Tension
Conflict doesn’t come from tension between characters or the MC’s rejection of her situation. Instead, it comes from remembered loneliness and pain. The height of tension is a hug:

“I couldn’t stop it. Tears burned my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. I clutched her gown as if she would vanish.”

That is heartbreaking. The last line is similarly heartbreaking:

“For the first time in my life...I was loved.”

This feels positive on the surface, but “the first time” carries a lifetime of conflict in the background. Imagine living an entire life without feeling love — there’s so much unspoken tension for the reader to fill in. It’s a very powerful statement.

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Final Thoughts

The chapter works beautifully as is: dreamy, half real. This fits a character who just died or woke from a coma. A little more depth would fill some questions for the reader and make the opening even more compelling — without ruining the poetic voice.

Waking up in a novel isn’t original, but it’s rare. Waking up as a side character? That’s intriguing. I love the idea of exploring a world you know so well, like walking through a painting and seeing what’s out of frame. What happened off-page that you now get to be part of?

The blurb promises action, intrigue, and romance — I’m excited to read further.

My Fake Boyfriend by ToTheExtreme95 on Wattpad

Blurb

When outcast Alexis Dawson agrees to help Redwood High’s most notorious player, Aaron Walker, a harmless favor turns into a dangerous game of hearts. As fake dating blurs into something real, she must protect a secret that could destroy everything. Jealousy, betrayal, and unexpected love make this “favor” far more complicated than either of them imagined.

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Original (First 500)

It was almost time. A minute left on the clock until it struck 3 – the end of school. Gathering all my papers, I stuff them carelessly into my binder. At long last – the weekend was here.

The bell rung and I remained seated, hoping to wait out the crowd of ‘kids’ stampeding their way to the door. When all was clear, I stood up, waved tiredly to the teacher and trudged outside the classroom and into the bleak hallways.

It was Friday, the last day of school until Monday, and, honestly, there was not a more joyous occasion. School was a horror-ridden nightmare, especially when spent alone.

I sighed heavily and opened my locker. Throwing my books in, I turned to glance at myself in the small mirror attached to the wall of the locker door, studying my reflection. My brown hair was up in a pony tail, giving a perfect view of my face. Two brown doe eyes stared back at me and I sighed heavily at the blatant lack of effort I had given into my appearance when getting ready every morning.

“You can keep looking, but it won’t change what you look like.” A voice sneered teasingly from behind me. I whirled on my heel to come face to face with Britney Sanders – otherwise referred to as the girl who had bullied me as soon as she was capable of forming a full sentence. I hated her, but I couldn’t deny the fact that, no matter how fake Britney looked, she was what I aspired to look like. She was gorgeous. Her blonde hair cascaded smoothly down her back, outlining her slim jawline. She wore a floral blouse and shin-length pencil skirt, showing off her thin legs, her entire look ending with ballet flat. Her face was slender and a natural tan coloured her face. She exuded the impression of a Mediterranean goddess.

“What are you staring at?” Britney snapped yet she was smiling slightly. Yes – it was evident in her eyes that she was aware that I envied her. She liked the fact that I would do anything to look like her. However, this didn’t stop the bullying, rather it encouraged it, acting as a means for her to showcase her beauty to a ‘pathetic soul’ such as me every single day, only increasing the envy I felt.

Britney chuckled slightly to herself. “You’re so pathetic.” She squeaked, looking down at her nails. Tears stung at my eyes. I looked around. Students stood and watched as the scene played out – most passed by and ignored my plight yet a few looked in sympathy. Nonetheless, none of them stood up for me. This always happened. No one would be my saviour. But I wouldn’t cry.

No. I had kept a vow to myself that I would never satisfy anyone by letting them see me weak or vulnerable to their taunts. I would never break down.

Britney scowled at me. She always did when I produced no reaction…

My Edit

The final bell pealed, announcing not just the end of the day, but the start of the weekend.  I breathed a sigh of relief, the sound a whisper against the scrapes of thirty chairs on linoleum, thirty kids giggling and shouting out their plans to call each other. 

Sam Thompson was having a party. Everyone was invited. I was technically part of everyone, but if I showed up, the actual everyone would wonder why.

The hallway was packed. I was jostled three times on the way to my locker and got two blurted apologies. 

I had math homework, so I kept my textbook, but I wouldn’t need my biology textbook, so I dropped that off. 

My copy of “Jane Eyre” was under all of my other books. I tugged it out and dropped it into my backpack. I was supposed to have read the whole thing by the end of the semester but could only stomach a page or two at a time. The main character was so meek and pathetic. Too relatable.

I did a quick zit check in the mirror attached to my locker. All clear. But there was a bump in my ponytail. I sighed. How long had it been like that? Probably since after P.E. I tugged out the rubber band and pulled my long brown hair back up into a ponytail, making sure it was smooth this time.

In my mind, I was already home, snuggled up with Tumblr and my cat, so I didn’t notice when the hallway noise faded to silence. My fault for letting my guard down.

“That won’t help.”

I closed my eyes. Britney Maples. Everywhere she went, people hushed. They watched her like she was a movie. To them, she was Elle Woods. To me, she was Heathers -- all of them, all wrapped up into one. 

Britney had hated me since pre-school. I'd never been able to figure out why. Mom said she was jealous, but I could never figure out what of. My personal theory was that she had a sixth sense that I was worthless, and was mad that no one else could see it. Turning up now and then to stomp out any budding self-esteem wasn’t bullying — it was justice.

“It’s your face you need to fix,” she added, her saccharine tone echoing down the hallway.

I turned, hoping for once I could come up with a snappy comeback. I gave her the once-over, but of course, she was perfect in her floral blouse, pencil skirt, and ballet flats. Her blonde hair cascaded past her shoulders, catching the light like she had her own personal spotlight. Blue eyes tilted up at the outside corners, like a kitty cat, even without the perfectly-applied eyeliner.

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth curling into that familiar scowl. My silence always drove her crazy — she had no idea it was the only thing keeping me from crying.

Original word count: ~500 → Edited: ~488)

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Critique

The premise — I’m always down for a fake-couple-falls-in-love trope. It’s a classic. I also like the teaser in the blurb that Alexis has her own secret — it adds depth to what could otherwise be a straightforward romantic setup.

Setting
We start in a classroom where Alexis is waiting for the clock to turn 3 on a Friday. We’ve all been there. I remember being that kid with no one to whisper or giggle with, so this moment feels very familiar.

If we wanted to play up Alexis’s invisibility, we could have two kids — one in front of her, one behind — talking over her head like she’s not even there.

For my edit, I just started with the bell ringing and let her be invisible. It’s a good way to contrast the neutral way the other kids treat her with Britney’s overwhelming cruelty later.

Characterization
I like the contrast in energy between Alexis and the other kids. She’s excited that it’s Friday, but not for parties or dating or sleepovers. That gives her a lonely vibe without making her pathetic (no matter what Britney says). She doesn’t talk to anyone, and no one talks to her — until Britney.

I had a Britney too — same dynamic, same speechless frustration. She hated me for no reason and tried to humiliate me every chance she got. That’s why this relationship feels so real.

I like that although Alexis has no defenders, she has a backbone. She may not know what to say, but she’ll never let anyone see her cry. There’s a song that came out the year I was born called “Don’t Cry Out Loud” by Melissa Manchester. The chorus goes:

“Don’t cry out loud / Just keep it inside and learn how to hide your feelings / Fly high and proud / And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all.”

That was my anthem in junior high and high school. I can see Alexis living by the same rule.Trying to describe a POV character naturally can be rough, and it almost always involves a mirror. In this case, since most kids keep mirrors in their lockers — and Britney’s about to make fun of Alexis’s looks — is a realistic way to do it.

That said, Alexis describing herself as “doe-eyed” doesn’t sound realistic. It could work if she laments having boring brown eyes but then remembers her grandpa calls her “Bambi” because of her big doe eyes.

In my edit, I just had her fix her ponytail. That way she’s looking in the mirror (so Britney’s comment makes sense), but what she's looking at in the mirror feels more believable.

Britney feels cartoonishly evil — though, to be fair, my own “Britney” did too. At the time, she seemed larger than life. Like Alexis, I couldn’t understand why she hated me, and my mom’s “she’s just jealous” theory never made sense.

My private belief was that she could see my worthlessness and was furious no one else could. Being cruel to me wasn’t bullying — it was justice.

I wove that idea into my edit because it gives Alexis a way to internalize Britney’s cruelty as something she’s rationalized over time, not just accepted. It also shows this is a persistent enough issue that she’s brought it up to her mom.

It also suggests that Alexis and her mom are close enough for Alexis to confide in her.I made Britney’s dialogue a little more realistic and emphasized her charisma so it’s clear why no one steps in — and why Alexis gets tongue-tied. Some people just have that effect — and not all of them use it for evil. Go figure.

Conflict/Tension
Britney doesn’t show up in the until about a third of the way through, and that’s the only part that has any real tension in the original. The first third could be used more effectively. It’s a perfect opportunity to emphasize Alexis’s invisibility and build a quieter kind of tension before the confrontation.

So, in my edit, I made up a party all the kids except Alexis are excited about, and in the hallway, I had three kids bump into her — and two apologize. It gives Alexis a physical presence even though she’s socially invisible.

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Final Thoughts

The original feels more like a synopsis of a chapter — it summarizes more than it dramatizes. I used the existing settings (classroom, hallway, locker) to fill in details that made Alexis feel more like a real person. She has an opinion on Jane Eyre that matches mine — who could’ve guessed?

The excerpt does a good job showing that Britney has a deep, irrational hatred for Alexis. The kids’ silence says it all: to them, Alexis isn’t someone to notice, let alone pick on. But Britney is so popular and so confident that Alexis should be destroyed that they question themselves instead of her.

It’s such a painfully familiar dynamic, and one I definitely don’t miss from my horrific school daze. The fake-couple trope is already a strong hook, but the hint that Alexis has a dark secret makes it even more intriguing. I can’t help wondering if Britney knows the secret — and if that’s what fuels her hatred. Not that that's necessary. There just are people who hate us for no reason, sometimes. Yay, life!

Shifting Greer's by K.D. Bledsoe

Blurb

Once, she was Greer Thomas: popular, fearless, impossible to ignore. But after witnessing her parents’ murder, she’s forced into Witness Protection with a new name, a new town, and a desire to be invisible.

Then she meets Kaleb Nixon. Rough around the edges, with secrets of his own, Kale has built his life on keeping people out. But there’s something about Greer—the way she hides behind sarcasm and oversized glasses—that makes him want to break every rule he’s made for himself.

As Kale gets closer to uncovering who she really is, Greer realizes that the past she’s running from isn’t finished with her yet. Secrets don’t remain buried forever, and Greer has a lot of them.

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Original (First 500)

How do the stories begin? Oh, right, with once upon a time.

So, so here it goes:

Once upon a time, there was an overlooked, beautiful girl who longed for someone to come and notice her. Along comes a handsome prince on horseback to save her. They live happily ever after in a ginormous castle.

Well, you know what I’ve got to say to those stories? Bullcrap.

Fairy tales are stories written by lonely people that want to deceive the minds of the youth. But listen up kids, no one ever gets their happily ever after. Some messed up shit happens in life. Did you get that? Are you taking notes? You could be because I’m a prime example of someone not getting their happily ever after. Heck, I would even settle for Cinderella’s life before she met Prince Charming or whoever.

Because right now, my story belongs in the tragedy section of the bargain bin.

My castle comes in the form of a one-story house, parked on the side of a busy street, in a small crater in the earth in Washington.

And it’s freaking raining.

I stare up at the brick ranch style house with a scowl on my face. My one suitcase is on the wet ground at my feet. My brunette hair is soaked to my skin. I’m not wearing a jacket, just a thin t-shirt. There’s a black pickup truck parked in the driveway. It has a bumper sticker for the high school in town. I can’t help but laugh. I haven’t even been to the school yet.

I can’t get my feet to shuffle up the cracked walkway. This doesn’t feel real. The last few months, I’ve been basically sleepwalking through my life. Standing here in front of my new home starts to wake me up a bit.

“You’ve been standing there for ten minutes now, are you going to go in?” Says a deep voice from beside me.

I gulp, “I’m working up to it.”

“It won’t bite, you know?” He chuckles.

I turn to look at the older man standing to my right. A shot of pain grips my chest tight as I look into his sparkling blue eyes. Leo looks almost identical to my mother. I wonder how long the pain will last every time I look at him. I wonder if it’ll ever get easier.

He gives me a forced smile as he noticed the look on my face, “One step at a time, remember, Greer?”

I nod. It all seemed so simple on the drive over here. I pumped myself up the whole plane trip. I told myself I could do it the whole car ride from the airport. So why couldn’t I do it now?  Why was this such a hard thing to do?

I vigorously nod, shaking myself from my stupor, and put one step in front of the other. I drag my suitcase behind me on its wheels. Leo keeps a safe distance behind me and…

My Edit

I scowl up at the red-brick ranch house. A black pickup sits in the driveway—Uncle Leo’s new truck—with a bumper sticker for the high school I haven’t started attending yet.

Cars hiss past on wet asphalt behind me, their tires spraying puddles onto the curb. Somewhere down the block, a horn bleats twice, impatient, and a delivery van door slams. The world moves fast and loud, but none of it feels like it belongs to me.

Wind whips dark, wet strands of hair across my face, casting diagonal prison bars across my view of the house. I’m not wearing a jacket, just a thin black T-shirt. There’s a hoodie in the suitcase next to my feet. The suitcase isn’t waterproof, so my clothes are probably as soaked as I am.

The cab dropped me off ten minutes ago, and I still can’t make my feet move up the cracked walkway. Two people pass on the sidewalk behind me, their voices rising and fading with laughter. I catch only the sound, not the words, and it feels like a language I used to speak.

The front door opens. Leo steps out, pops an umbrella, and jogs toward me. I fight the urge to run away.

“How long have you been out here?” he asks, sounding concerned and exasperated. He stops in front of me and tries to hand me the umbrella. I don’t budge, so he hovers over me awkwardly, using the umbrella to try to cover both of us.

I sense his grief. Is it as deep as mine? Deeper? His eyes are my mother’s eyes. Does he see my mother in me, too? Does something tighten in his chest—a stitch he can’t breathe through? Does he want to flee, as though not walking into that house with me means this isn’t real? His sister alive, his niece still happy and rebellious in California….

A wry smile quirks my uncle’s lips, though he watches me with concern, a wrinkle between his brows. “Are you coming in?”

I nod. But I don’t move.

“One step at a time, Greer,” he says, empathy radiating from him.

In the distance, I hear sirens. I shudder and step forward, suddenly eager to be inside. I never used to hear sirens. I'll never be able to ignore them again.

Leo moves with me, still trying to hold the umbrella over both of us as I wheel my suitcase up the path. He puts his arm around my shoulders. It’s warm and dry and makes a false promise—that everything is going to be okay.

(Original word count: ~500 → Edited: ~428)

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Critique

A teenage girl in Witness Protection after watching her parents be murdered. Original, compelling, and comes with a built-in question: how do you balance grief and danger with teen romance?

The opening paragraphs use fairy-tale imagery and commentary about how those stories are “bullcrap.” It’s an eye-catching hook that instantly caught my interest, but because the story drops the conceit so quickly, it feels more like an attention-grabber than an organic entry point into Greer’s voice.

"I stare up at the brick ranch style house with a scowl on my face," is a much stronger opening line. It's an original line in the author's authentic voice, and it immediately poses a question. Why would someone glare at a seemingly inoffensive inanimate object? So, we have immediate conflict based on the reader's experience of brick, ranch-syle houses (nice, warm, dry, no stairs, middle class, comfortable) with the character's apparent hatred of it. Simple, straightforward, and brilliant.

A quick realism note: typically, participants in witness protection don’t get to keep their first name or live with known family members, since that could link them to their past.

Also, the title should probably be "Shifting Greers" instead of "Shifting Greer's".

Setting

My castle comes in the form of a one-story house, parked on the side of a busy street, in a small crater in the earth in Washington.

This is a cute transition from the fairytale conceit into the setting. A couple of nitpicks — first, “Washington” could refer to the state, D.C., or one of a million cities and towns in the U.S. If we changed it to “Seattle,” the reader would know immediately where we are.

We’re told it’s a busy street, but we never get any signs of foot traffic, passing cars, sirens, or life. I added some of these details in my edit. The other option would be to simply say it’s a quiet street.

The fact that we're staring at this house for so long, in the cold rain, makes me want to go in, especially after meeting Leo and realizing that the house is going to be warm and welcoming.

Characterization
Greer's voice; bitter but wistful, really works. Even without the fairy-tale framing, her vulnerability and resilience shine through. Her apathy about being rained on and her inability to take a step are realistic depictions of grief and denial, even without an inner monologue.

Uncle Leo is immediately lovable, and the fact that he encourages her without forcing her to move — even in the pouring rain — shows that Greer isn’t alone, even though she’s lost so much. The truck with the bumper sticker from the school she hasn’t started yet is a beautiful detail. It says she’s already welcome, that this is already her home, and that he’s already proud of her. It also hints that he might be a bit impatient with her grieving process, which could make for interesting character development later.

Describing a character’s appearance in first person is always tricky. What we look like doesn’t matter to us unless we’re thinking about how others perceive us. Still, you as the author might want the reader to know, so they’re not wondering what the character looks like for half the book.

An organic way to describe a character is to have her feel self-conscious or aware of what someone else is seeing. A perfect place for that here is when Greer and Leo look at each other — when she wonders if her uncle sees her mother when he looks at her, she can compare her features to her mom’s.

If you do want to describe her right away, the author’s original attempt mostly works. “A thin black T-shirt” is believable because it’s something you’d actually notice on yourself. The issue is the line “My hair is plastered to my body…” — we’ve suddenly zoomed out to a visual that the narrator couldn’t see herself unless she’s astral projecting. I changed it to “The wind whips dark, wet strands of hair across my face,” because that’s something she would realistically notice in the moment.

I also had Leo start from inside the house instead of revealing halfway through that Greer isn’t alone. That kind of surprise can pull the reader out of her perspective. It can work for an unreliable narrator, but that doesn’t seem to be the goal here. Giving Leo an umbrella also shows he’s already taking care of her before she even steps inside — a nice mirror to the bumper sticker detail.
Finally, I made Greer’s comparison of her uncle’s blue eyes to her mother’s into a moment of specific inner questioning that reveals her grief and panic. It also lets her wonder about him, recognizing that she’s not the only one grieving. That small shift adds empathy and emotional depth while keeping her thoughts self-centered in a realistic way.

Conflict/Tension

In terms of action, the first 500 words are simple: a girl stares at a house, a man comes out and talks to her, and they walk inside together. Potentially cinematic, but not outwardly thrilling.

What makes this compelling is the internal tension. Her inability to accept her new life is shown through her physical stillness, her apathy toward the rain, and the pain of looking at her uncle because he reminds her of her mom. That’s something a novel can convey far better than a film.

Also, it’s impressive to have a two-character scene full of tension without the tension coming from a fight. Both characters are likable and relatable — that’s what grounds the otherwise implausible premise.

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Final Thoughts

Overall, really compelling opening to a book, even without the small tweaks that I made in my edit. Between the hook and the tension in the scene, adding a little more detail to the setting and nuance to the characters only enhances what we already had.

Overall, this is a really strong opening — even without the small tweaks I made in my edit. Between the emotional hook and the quiet tension, a few more details in the setting and some nuance in the character work just enhance what’s already there.

I took out the fairy-tale conceit in my edit because the author’s authentic voice was strong enough to stand on its own. The fairy-tale angle felt like a crutch for something that didn’t need propping up.