Check out the Blog Tour--lots of reviews!
|
Kindle:
|
========================================================================PROOFREADBACKWARDS.WINESKINMEDIA.COMOriginal file: Fern_Gullible_by_Karina_Fabianpt.txtReversed for free at http://proofreadbackwards.wineskinmedia.comto leave comments and feedback. ========================================================================[Original End of Manuscript]Fabian--Fern Gullible--7----I tilted my head toward the third-story apartment, where with my keen senses, I could hear Willow and Maden laughing as Fern told her all about her "dream."----Like I said, it's on my Territory."----"Nah.----Are you charging to department for this one, Vern?"----I'll think about it.----"All right!----Santry sighed.----The shut the window, but not before we heard the laughter.----"Rumplestiltskin!"----We looked to where Willow, Maden and Fern leaned out the window, Fern's head on the gnome's.----"Captain Santry!"----He grumbled.----"Yeah, I'll consider it."
Amazon purchase link: http://amzn.to/hT2gK5
Tribute Books Reviews | 2-Apr | interview | |||
Fabianspace | 2-Apr | review | |||
Susanne Drazic | 2-Apr | gen info | |||
Time With Tannia | 2-Apr | interview | |||
Marian Allen | 3-Apr | interview | |||
John Konecsni | http://apiusman.blogspot.com | 4-Apr | Interview +guest post | ||
Baker Street Blog | 5-Apr | guest post | |||
Penny Ehrenkranz | 6-Apr | interview | |||
Julie Davis | 7-Apr | review | |||
Lisa Hendey | http://CatholicMom.com | 7-Apr | guest post | ||
Impact Reviews | 8-Apr | review | |||
The Writing Life for | 8-Apr | interview | |||
Naomi Clark | 9-Apr | guest post | |||
Character Education Criteria Reviews | 11-Apr | review + guest post | |||
So What Do We Think | 12-Apr | review + guest post | |||
Katie Hines | 14-Apr | guest post | |||
The Detective Eye | 15-Apr | Review + interview | |||
Teri Harmon | 16-Apr | guest post | |||
Cheryl Malandrinos | 18-Apr | Review + guest post | |||
Author Caprice Hokstad | 20-Apr | review |
Ninja Monkey picture by Donovan84.
Chenille: A student at ArtsInstitute-San Francisco, Chenille is into environmental art. She's a fangirl of Hollister Grant, the scientific "genius" behind the Global Fattening theory, which says that climate destabilization is not caused by warming or cooling but by the uneven distribution of the human population due to rampant urbanization. When Grant returns as a zombie (which Neeta re-kills), Chenille's deepest desire is fulfilled when Ted affirms that yes, the fish had indeed nibbled at his corpse, before he returned to shore.
When they entered the trade show floor, Ted grabbed Neeta's forearm. "Rule One of trade shows," he instructed. "Always stop first and take it allllll in."
Neeta made a visual sweep of the floor. Dark fabric on piped made booths where entrepreneurs demonstrated and sold the tool of her trade, some with flat-screens playing videos to show their superior effectiveness. This year, the cleaning products and containers dominated the row farthest away from the food court; at least their complaints had paid off. Nothing like trying to enjoy the convention center's clam chowder with someone spraying chlorine bleach from a supersoaker only a dozen feet away. That aisle had been reserved for protective equipment: rubber boots and biohazard suits, gloves and motorcycle helmets. Vendors selling the more practical equipment took up the middle. Swords and chainsaws, and…was that a lirpa? Every year, he brings a few of those, and every year some Star Trek fan figures if he can't use it at work, at least it will look impressive on his wall.
To the back, they saw a spout of flame and heard a shout, but the sprinklers didn't go off. Someone must have gotten to the extinguishers in time. The flamethrower guys usually knew what they were doing.
And, of course, sticking out like a guilded thumb, a stage for Zombie Death Extreme. Saturday, she was going to have spend half the day there schmoozing people in the name of a contract she only signed to get out of debt last year.
She shrugged. Looked like any other zombie exterminator trade show her mom had dragged her through as a kid, but when she looked at Ted, she saw his eyes glowing like it was Christmas.
"So?" he asked. "Monofilament swords first, or the flamethrowers?"
"Remember our budget?" she said.
"Hey, a guy can dream!"
Tasmae drowned in cold, heavy waters; bathed in fire; was torn from the inside. The whole time, images and emotions pounded up on her: anger and hate, despair and confusion, passion and ambition.
Make it stop! Make it stop! Makeitstop!
That’s enough! Her warrior self exploded. Gardianju! Tell me what this means. We don’t have time for this.
Too many signals, all in conflict. She hung by a thread over an abyss, but when she blinked, it turned into a padded pink box. She screamed and tried to climb.
The rope snapped.
She fell.
Tasmae was again flung from the Remembrance, this time full of adrenalin. Taking advantage of her guardians’ surprise, she dashed from the room.
She ran through the empty compound thinking only that the walls were too close, the air too heavy, the shadows full of phantoms ready to ambush. She cried with delight to see the sun burning bright. She drank in its heat.
A unicorn waited at the door.
Despite muscles that felt bruised and hands that felt raw, she threw herself onto his back and let him carry her to an open field.
Once there, however, she panicked at being alone with the images left from the Remembrance. She couldn’t make herself go back, either. Leinad would take her, by force, if necessary, and make her complete the Remembrance. I can’t let him, she’d thought wildly, I can’t.
She couldn’t be alone, and she couldn’t seek out anyone Kanaan. Not like this. She was contaminated with the insanities of Gardianju; she couldn’t risk touching someone’s mind now. She was barely handling it, and it was part of her Talent. No healer would touch her, no friend offer comfort.
Her mind reeling, she slid from the unicorn’s back and sat upon the ground, legs crossed, arms wrapped around her stomach, rocking slightly. She didn’t know why she was doing it. She couldn’t make herself stop. The unicorn nuzzled her gently, sending a cautious query, but she didn’t respond. She was trapped. Alone.
Suddenly, an everyn dove out of the sky and landed beside her, wheedling its way onto her lap. No, sister, he told her. You are never alone.
Another everyn joined, then another and another, until she was surrounded by a dozen or more, until her lap and arms were full of small dragon-like creatures, their cheeks stroking her skin, wings enveloping her. Carefully, they teased the tortured memories of Gardianju from her, replacing them with affection and reassurance.
We are the first of the Greater Beasts and brothers to the animals; share the chaos with us. We can handle it. We have done this duty before; it is our God-sent Talent. It is our avocation, our joy to help you as our ancestors had helped other Miscria. Take our aid, sister. Accept our love.
They guided her through a cleansing, led her gently to Divine Love. Words floated through her mind: Mercifully guard my every thought and grant that I may always watch for Your light, and listen to Your voice, and follow Your gracious inspirations. I cling to You and give myself to You and ask You, by Your compassion to watch over me in my weakness…
She blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings. Not only everyn surrounded her now: unicorns and some lesser beasts had joined the circle of love and support. A large, wolflike creature had shoved his way through enough to lay its shaggy head upon her lap, and she scratched its ears gratefully. Normally, they were solitary creatures, feral and sometimes dangerous. She thought she knew which images it had shared for her sake.
It tolerated one more scratch and took off with an explosion of motion that sent several everyn flying and squawking in protest. She found herself laughing, and thanked the beasts who had saved her from herself and helped her back to sanity. Then she closed her eyes again, gave her gratitude to God, and felt His love in reply. The words came back to her. Sometimes, the Miscria were given words, like the recitation to call the Ydrel. But these were not from the Remembrance, or from Deryl. Even the accent was different.
Joshua. Tasmae rose and asked the unicorn to take her to the human.
It forces you to look at each sentence on its own merit.
It keeps you from getting caught up in the plot.
It stops your mind from filling in blanks based on context.
It lets you look at a sentence for language use rather than mere utility.
Sometimes, you catch logical disconnects that you didn't see reading forwards.
Man, did I use the words "suddenly" and "just" a lot. Neither I nor my critiquers (save one) notice when caught in the plot, but when backwards, I realized I'd used it several times on one page.
I caught a lot of passive voice. Taking the sentences out of context made me more aware of passive voice (was, is are) and progressive (am doing, was doing). Many times, I could cut those. Ditto for adverbs.
I realized that I had Deryl riding a unicorn BEFORE he put his clothes back on. Lady Godiva, he is not! Changed that.
I found places I could add more foreshadowing.
I discovered one place where I headhopped. It was seemless when reading it forward, but jarring backward.
I made a lot of sentences stronger.
Old: He was aware, too, or how hard Tasmae had hit him and how much his neck and throat ached.
New: His neck throbbed from Tasmae's choking and his head with it.