I took your story to bed with me last night, a red pen clutched between my lips, ready to spend just a few brief moments circling cliché after cliché, but when I caressed that first page, and saw the powerful imagery pulsating in your opening line, I couldn’t pull myself away. You made me want to read on and on. I didn't want it to stop.
On page three, just when I thought your tense change was too abrupt, too abrasive, you pulled me back in, lingering on the details, teasing me with your description. You played with all of my senses—I saw and felt and smelled and tasted each fleshy word.
And the climax, oh the climax. You shook my mind. You took me where no writer has ever taken me before. Your plot moved sideways and backward and forward. The action grew faster and faster, and then there was that sudden thrust of conflict and the tension just grew and grew until oh, my God, page seven. Amazing.
You left me completely satisfied.
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