Editing Exercise - A Boy and His Mother

[Hastur]

Credited to: Scott Roche

The wind blew across the field broken by granite markers. They were all evenly spaced and practically identical. This was not any ordinary graveyard; it was God’s Own Acre. At least that’s what Moravians called it. They were buried in the order they died, part of one big family. Clouds raced across the sky, reflected in the dark granite, and chased each other like happy children. The only sound other than the keening wind was a gentle sobbing.

At the very last marker stood a boy in a dove gray suit. He couldn’t be any more than fourteen to look at him. His blond hair tousled lovingly by that same breeze. Father waited for him in the car and Sunday dinner sat at home. But they can wait, Father could get impatient and the dinner could grow cold. He would mourn for his mother and mourn hard.

Tears flooded from his crystal blue eyes down his cheeks. This boy thought of how terribly unfair the world was to have taken her from him. A boy needs his mother. Fathers can’t care for their children in quite the same way. They can roughhouse and can occasionally be gentle, but don’t they say that a boy’s heart belongs to his mother?

The errant breeze brought the smell of fresh baked apple pie from someone’s window. It bought the memory of that day, the last day he was to see her. Images of the black and white checked linoleum, the stark white appliances, Mother’s blue gingham dress, all flashed through his head. He raced out of the kitchen with his mother’s kiss still warm on his cheek. If only he had known as he ran to his school bus how the strange man he had passed on the corner would brutalize her.

Maybe he wouldn’t have been the one to find her bruised and cut up body. She would have been there to give him some fresh baked cookies and an ice-cold glass of milk. Instead her body offered up a lesson that he would never forget. Life was unfair, God was cruel, and power gave you what you wanted. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his fists and vowed never to be hurt again.

There you go. Our next offering. What would you suggest, if you were the editor?

[Richard Dickson]

The wind blew across the field broken by granite markers.I'd probably change "the" to "a." Otherwise, it's not clear if it's the field or the wind that's being broken by the markers.
This was not any ordinary graveyard; it was God’s Own Acre. At least that’s what Moravians called it."This was no ordinary graveyard. 'God's Own Acre,' the Moravians called it."
Clouds raced across the sky, reflected in the dark granite, and chased each other like happy children."... chasing each other like happy children."
Father waited for him in the car and Sunday dinner sat at home. But they can wait, Father could get impatient and the dinner could grow cold. He would mourn for his mother and mourn hard.Watch your tenses here. If the sentence in the present tense is supposed to be the boy thinking, indicate it by italics or something, just so the change in tense makes sense.
This boy thought of how terribly unfair the world was to have taken her from him.Start this sentence with "How terribly unfair ..."
The errant breeze brought the smell of fresh baked apple pie from someone’s window.From where? Your opening description makes this place seem removed, distant, not close enough to smell pie cooking from nearby.
He raced out of the kitchen with his mother’s kiss still warm on his cheek."He'd raced ..."

[Unbreathless]

Sinister has pointed out all the grammer errors noticable, so I'll play the style editor... And I only had a few gripes with this.

First off is your use of adjectives.
"...dove grey suit" and "...Crystal blue eyes" were the only two times I noticed this. These adjectives Seem almost over the top to me. They saw at the proverbial violin.

I see the reason for playing up the ideas of "innosence" and "purity" in the boy, but these words seem almost cliche to me. As if they were a direct attempt to pound the idea into us, instead of letting it flow naturally. Better to just call it a Light grey suit, and clear/clouded blue eyes. These allow the reader to see the ideas without having them forced into their lap.

Saying the tears ran down his cheeks makes him seem younger as well. The word 'cheeks' alludes to younger children. Rosie Cheeks, chubby cheeks, etc. You say he's fourteen, So maybe replace cheeks with face.

Since this is a peice that works on contrast, I like the way you use it. The clean white kitchen and a bloody body. Playful clouds over a grim graveyard. Try to use that to your advantage. Keep the contrast idea throughout the story if you write more.

Also, and this is me being picky, the clouds reflected on granite might be better if you mention that it was polished granite. Regular granite doesn't reflect. Tombstones are polished.

[Dan Whitehead]

Johnny plays with knives:
Saying the tears ran down his cheeks makes him seem younger as well. The word 'cheeks' alludes to younger children. Rosie Cheeks, chubby cheeks, etc. You say he's fourteen, So maybe replace cheeks with face.I'm 29 and, to the best of my knowledge, still have both my cheeks. wink

[Capt. Eucalyptus]

Thanks Poxy!!! Grammar always my weekest sute. Wel nexte tu speling. :)

[QUOTE]Originally posted by Johnny plays with knives:
<strong>First off is your use of adjectives.
"...dove grey suit" and "...Crystal blue eyes" were the only two times I noticed this. These adjectives Seem almost over the top to me. They saw at the proverbial violin.</strong>

I was actually shooting for really sharp detail. But I don't want to be cliched so thanks. :)

<strong>Saying the tears ran down his cheeks makes him seem younger as well. The word 'cheeks' alludes to younger children. Rosie Cheeks, chubby cheeks, etc. You say he's fourteen, So maybe replace cheeks with face.</strong>

Yeah I guess I could see that.

<strong>Since this is a peice that works on contrast, I like the way you use it. The clean white kitchen and a bloody body. Playful clouds over a grim graveyard. Try to use that to your advantage. Keep the contrast idea throughout the story if you write more.

Also, and this is me being picky, the clouds reflected on granite might be better if you mention that it was polished granite. Regular granite doesn't reflect. Tombstones are polished.</strong>

Thanks, that's what I was really working on here. If I end up using this I'll tweak it.

[Unbreathless]

The Abominable Doctor Whitehead:
Johnny plays with knives:
Saying the tears ran down his cheeks makes him seem younger as well. The word 'cheeks' alludes to younger children. Rosie Cheeks, chubby cheeks, etc. You say he's fourteen, So maybe replace cheeks with face.I'm 29 and, to the best of my knowledge, still have both my cheeks. wink you know what i mean, damn it.

I have 2 SETS of cheeks... OOOOOOOooo