This was over a year ago. Should this stall my writing? Probably not. It has. I think because there is a comment on nearly everything I've written. Scary.
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Chapter 1
These mys jumped out at me. Although they don’t necessarily need to be taken out, you could simply leave the my turn out and eliminate one of them.
I tap my hand on my jeans to the beat of the blaring salsa music waiting my turn in line at the coffee shop. My mouth starts to water at the familiar aromas that waft all leave out around me. Many mornings I drive out of my way to Lorraine's Coffee House for her amazing brew hoping Lorraine's flea market and antique shop treasures will be the perfect remedy to fix what's been leave out ailing me. I love to sit in her funky chairs and marvel at her crazy trinkets. The porcupine that sits leave out in front of the fireplace, the delightfully patterned sea horse shaped vase she has next to the door for umbrellas and the Elvis mannequin who sits leave out in the corner with his fake spilled cup of coffee on the table in front of him. See if this isn’t better. The porcupine in front of the fireplace, the patterned sea horse-shaped vase next to the door and the Elvis mannequin in the corner with the fake-spilled cup of coffee on the table in front of him. That Elvis, he never could hold his drink.
I listen to Lorraine the Coffee-Lady going on as usual about her fresh baked scones. I nearly forget how great the place smells wondering why no one has ever told her how horrible her scones actually are. Well, what would she have to drone on about if not her scones; I shutter at the thought.
"Gwen! Good morning to our famous writer. Famous writer in the house." Lorraine jests as she sticks her pointer fingers in the air and performs a modified version of The Twist. I laugh; I’d take the I laugh out. And watch the use of semi-colons in fiction. Read the sentence and see if it wouldn’t be best broken into two sentences or if you can simply use a comma. Semi-colons and colons lend a sense of formality to your writing, and especially in this piece, you want a relaxed fun feeling. And then make a new paragraph here. Otherwise you’d have Lorraine’s dialogue and Gwen’s dialogue in the same paragraph…that’s a no-no.
Lorraine is sort of cute in her own Coffee-Lady kind of way. "Good morning, Miss Lorraine" I say through my fake smile and think enjoy livin' the dream, sister; because That’s three of those boogers in less than 300 words. And this one should really just be a comma. it's not gonna last forever. I order a cup of her house blend and notice she does not offer me a scone. She must be onto me.
With a half hour to spare before the meeting with my agent, I take a seat at a tall, round hot pink table. Now I have a great view of the front door and a bamboo bead curtain that leads to the unisex restroom—a perfect people watching spot. a half hour to spare before the meeting with my agent, I take a seat at a tall round hot pink table with a great view of the front door and a bamboo bead curtain that leads to the unisex restroom on my right; a perfect people watching spot. You are way to in love with semi-colons. I am entertained for a few minutes watching the folks in their business suits carrying briefcases, laptops and newspapers talking into the air about their ever so important day, mouthing their orders and pleasantries to Lorraine so the person on the other end of their [phone thingy] doesn't hear them. My mind drifts to my meeting with Jill. She will surely yell at me, I will defend myself, she will yell at me for defending myself. Oh, what excuse can I give this woman? I simply cannot write anything. I do not know why. The creative section of my brain is on vacation. Use contractions whenever possible. It’s more conversational, which is the style you’re using.
I look up from my coffee in time to see a very old, and very tall, skinny, balding man wobble in the door wearing what is likely his Sunday best. He looks directly at me and for a moment. He looks directly at me and I’m afraid he’s going to mistake me for his internet hook up and hit me with a line like, “I look older in person” and explain he only uses his cane to get a handicap parking space. I'm afraid he's going to walk over mistaking me for his internet hook-up with a line like, "I look older in person" and explain he only uses his cane to get rock star parking in handicapped parking spaces. But instead, he takes a seat next to the front door. The man takes a seat next to the front door in one of Lorraine's crazier flea market finds.
I tighten my ponytail while I try to imagine why the old man is there. He didn't order coffee, or even buy a scone. He came in, looked at me and sat down. Odd I think. Odd, indeed. This is kind of a cart before the horse sentence…I think it would make more sense like this…The old man doesn’t order any coffee, or even a scone. He just walked in, looked at me and sat down. I tighten my ponytail and try to imagine why he’d be there. Odd, I think. Odd, indeed.
A dark headed handsome twenty-something ordering a floofy coffee drink catches my attention. I debate whether I'd be too old for this guy and finally decide too old or not, I'm totally not interested in someone who drinks a floofier coffee than I do. I stand up to leave, check my pocket for my keys and apply a fresh coat of Chapstick. As I turn toward the door, I notice the old man is now standing next to the colorful flea market chair he’d been sitting in. The hair on the back of my neck tries to decide if it should stand up as well because this man is definitely on the "doesn't belong side" of one of these things does not belong. ?? Maybe just say……man is definitely on the “doesn’t belong side” of my list.
I check my table one last time to make sure I didn't forget anything, which would be hard considering I only ever leave out carry keys and Chapstick with me. I attempt instantly gathering my wits about the old man because the shop is not very big and I will be walking past him in less than two point five seconds. Luckily, I notice a black bird flapping around outside the door in the parking lot. Great distraction, now I can stride past him and not worry about looking freaked out. I decide I need to gather my wits about me since the shop isn’t very big and I’ll be walking past the old man in less than two point five seconds. Luckily, I notice a black bird flapping around outside the door. Great distraction, now I can stride past him and not worry about looking freaked out as I concentrate on the bird. I really think you need to explain this part about the bird more. I keep reading it and wondering who is distracted by the bird…Gwen or the old man. And if it’s Gwen, how does she convey that?
