Razzazzika
November 8th, 2010, 06:53 PM
I don't want to give away too much about my characters and whatnot, i'm rather reserved with my ideas, but I do want a critique on my writing style. As to how well I write: Am I descriptive enough? Do I catch your attention? Is my grammar good? Do I use the right sort of verbology? I really try to put a lot of effort into my writing so here goes... This is just the first few paragraphs, so I hope I don't leave you hanging too much.
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"Here kitty, kitty, kitty..." I squeaked in that sing-songy voice one often seems to find themselves using when talking to animals. Well, animals that find themselves in the predicament of being cute and fluffy, anyway. This particular cute and fluffy American shorthair, a gray colored variety with black stripes, began backing its front legs up even though its butt was pressed against the tree behind it.
I very cautiously began to extend my right hand, palm up so as to make it think I had something to feed it... and failed miserably. The cat jumped upwards as soon as it saw the slight movement of my hand, and after a midair twirl, dug its claws in the bark and began to scurry up the tree. I responded by raising my hands in the air, frustrated.
I cursed the bad economy for making me sink this low. Private investigators are supposed to investigate missing people, cheating husbands, and help out on police cases. They should not, under any circumstance, be chasing cats all across Long Island. This was not how I wanted to spend my Halloween. I just wanted to go home and take my daughter trick-or-treating. Yet a man's got to make a living. I took a deep breath, composing myself, and rubbed my palms together, readying myself to climb the tree.
There were no low hanging branches on the old maple tree. Me, in my non-ladder having state, would have to do this the hard way. I reached both arms around the trunk of the tree and tried to use the sides of my sneakers as a grip against that which should not be gripped. I surprised myself, and maybe even amazed myself, at how far up I got. I had shimmied maybe six or seven times before I found myself eye-level with the cat. "Hey Buster," I sung, using the cat's name in the hope of earning its trust. I failed in that, too, and the bastard cat yowled and scratched at my face. Needless to say, I didn't exactly hold on to the tree as I was flailing at the cat's claws in terror. Granted, six feet is not a very far drop, but that doesn't mean I wasn't allowed to scream. After yelling innumerable curses at the cat I had spent all night tracking, I finally calmed down and caught my breath once more.
This would be a lot easier if you'd just let me take over Richie, said the female voice within my head. Yeah, that's right, inside my head. Not only am I a PI, but I'm understandably, certifiably, one-hundred percent crazy.
--cutting it off there, didn't exactly know where to stop it this is good enough, so... what does everyone think? This was right before the 'fantasy' part started, it's an Urban Fantasy series, its starts off rather normal-ish at first tho
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"Here kitty, kitty, kitty..." I squeaked in that sing-songy voice one often seems to find themselves using when talking to animals. Well, animals that find themselves in the predicament of being cute and fluffy, anyway. This particular cute and fluffy American shorthair, a gray colored variety with black stripes, began backing its front legs up even though its butt was pressed against the tree behind it.
I very cautiously began to extend my right hand, palm up so as to make it think I had something to feed it... and failed miserably. The cat jumped upwards as soon as it saw the slight movement of my hand, and after a midair twirl, dug its claws in the bark and began to scurry up the tree. I responded by raising my hands in the air, frustrated.
I cursed the bad economy for making me sink this low. Private investigators are supposed to investigate missing people, cheating husbands, and help out on police cases. They should not, under any circumstance, be chasing cats all across Long Island. This was not how I wanted to spend my Halloween. I just wanted to go home and take my daughter trick-or-treating. Yet a man's got to make a living. I took a deep breath, composing myself, and rubbed my palms together, readying myself to climb the tree.
There were no low hanging branches on the old maple tree. Me, in my non-ladder having state, would have to do this the hard way. I reached both arms around the trunk of the tree and tried to use the sides of my sneakers as a grip against that which should not be gripped. I surprised myself, and maybe even amazed myself, at how far up I got. I had shimmied maybe six or seven times before I found myself eye-level with the cat. "Hey Buster," I sung, using the cat's name in the hope of earning its trust. I failed in that, too, and the bastard cat yowled and scratched at my face. Needless to say, I didn't exactly hold on to the tree as I was flailing at the cat's claws in terror. Granted, six feet is not a very far drop, but that doesn't mean I wasn't allowed to scream. After yelling innumerable curses at the cat I had spent all night tracking, I finally calmed down and caught my breath once more.
This would be a lot easier if you'd just let me take over Richie, said the female voice within my head. Yeah, that's right, inside my head. Not only am I a PI, but I'm understandably, certifiably, one-hundred percent crazy.
--cutting it off there, didn't exactly know where to stop it this is good enough, so... what does everyone think? This was right before the 'fantasy' part started, it's an Urban Fantasy series, its starts off rather normal-ish at first tho