Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-4893169-20190829215235/@comment-4893169-20190904053518

''ChristianWallis wrote:

It was Jacquelyn's turn to hold the Lughnasadh Tea Ritual. With careful attention, she prepared the buffet-style table with clean tableware and matching tea service. She properly baked a tidy assortment of Lammas loaf owls and Corn King cakes, and Goddess scones, and made the savory finger-sandwiches, even cutting off the crusts for the fussier guests. And the water was on the porcelain enamel stove waiting for her to turn on the heat once her fellow Wiccans arrived. As she puttered around, meticulously checking off her list of formal arrangements, Jacquelyn worried about whether anyone would notice that she was using bovine milk rather than licorne cream [licorne cream? I don’t know what this is and I can’t find anything on google] and if Phoebe would still be angry about what happened last time (when Jacquelyn’s little aspie brother randomly mailed out the party notices and invited half of the neighborhood), and were the sandwiches elegant enough to make up for using just plain three-tiered cake stands, or would they gossip about her store-bought brand afterwards like they'd gossip about Murielle's... and then she noticed the cat in the garden again. [<- this sentence is ~100 words long. It desperately needs breaking up.]

The cat had been skulking about the place for a while. Jacquelyn considered shooing it away. It was a mangy looking thing—[I think you should keep things simple and just say “mangy looking thing with matted…] matted blue-black fur clinging to its wiry, whippet like form. It looked diseased, flea-infested, zombie-like even. On any other day, Jacquelyn wouldn't even have bothered [doing what?]. [She] Would even have thrown some table scraps to it. But tonight was the Lughnasadh Tea, and she didn't want to put the coven into yet another awkward situation. [what awkward situation?]

Sighing, the wannabe teen witch stepped outside with the [her] broom. Then she halted because the cat was sauntering towards her, smiling very broadly like the Cheshire one in the story. [So either say “like a Chesire cat” because people know that reference and it’s easy to follow. Or, say “like the Cheshire one from Alice in Wonderland” because that’s you explaining the reference, which is fine. But as it is it’s like you take the time to let us know it’s Cheshire cat from a story but not which story which just feels weird. .]

[Consider rewriting: When she saw the cat sauntering towards her, smiling very broadly like a Cheshire cat, she halted.]

"Do you often keep your guests waiting for quite so long?" Its voice grated like a rusty gate hinge.

Jacquelyn paused in mid-sweep momentarily taken aback, but she recovered swiftly.

"Oooh, nice one guys,” she said, glancing around the dimly-lite [lit] garden, “you really had me going for a minute!"

Stifling a snorting chuckle [bit confusing, maybe simplify a little], she turned back to the cat. “Oh,no!” [space] exclaimed Jacquelyn, feigning absolute mortification. “I'm so sorry, but there's been a miscommunication. Due to the venue size, we're keeping the guest list quite small. This means we just do not have room to fit everybody on the list. I'm so sorry that we can't extend an invitation, and even more sorry about this miscommunication. I hope you can understand."

“Oh, well, no matter,” the cat carelessly replied. “I’m quite sure your tea room’s big enough to accommodate up to three hundred guests very comfortably.”

"Uh huh.” Jacquelyn smirked and said, “Sure, Pal” [Sure, pal.] she looked around the garden again, then continued, “But alas, I only have room for like twenty.”

The cat sat on it [its] haunches, yellowish eyes and teeth gleaming in the porch lights.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Jacquelyn responded, “Yeah, twenty of my best fashionable, A-list, Celeb-Sisters of the Goddess [<-I had to re-read this bit once or twice to understand what you were saying.] friends... who all know how to combine classic essentials of high fashion with the latest Pagan Society trends...and probably do a bit of punking on the side.”

The cat still continued its unblinking stare and perpetual grin [so this is odd because it’s a little redundant but also you’re just telling us that the cat doesn’t react. People tend not have blinking stares, so there’s not a huge need for you to explain to us that this particular stare is unblinking. Try trimming down the bit about the stare or replace it with a comment about the cat’s eerie eyes]. From the shadowy meadowy borders of the garden there came a faint stealthy rustle as if the dried autumn grass was being crushed under the pressure of soft but heavy footfalls.

“Okay, like seriously holy fuck, how are you doing this trick!” Jacquelyn shouted to the surrounding privet hedges. “Cause it’s really seriously freaking me out! Someone slipped this here cat some shrooms, LSD or something? It’s like... so majorly tripping out here. ”

The night was silent, apart from the faint rustling of grass and dried leaves [you’ve used this imagery recently, try putting something else here], and the deep, purring thunder [I like this] at her feet.

“Ugh, fine,” Jacquelyn muttered as she turned to go inside. “This is like getting like, totally old fast... SO five minutes ago!”

Behind her, the steady purr deepened to a growl growing quickly to a snarl. Jacquelyn froze, the broom falling from her limp fingers to clatter to [and clattering on] the floor. Then she felt a sharp prickling on the back of her neck and a sibilant whisper in her ear, “The Old Gods are not to art mocked. Thou cannot deceive us, and we wilt not permit thou to mock us withal pretended instead of real services.”

Jacquelyn spun around with a gasp—wide-eyed—mouth gaping. The porch was empty. In her mind she was screaming, but no sound passed her lips.

Then she stared incredulously, mouth falling further agape as the garden swarmed with a feline horde. They moved like a wave up the gravel drive toward the mansion, flowing over the masonry walls and topiary hedges and erasing all signs of lawn. The air soon filled with a shrill trilling and incessant meowing.

Her left eye began to twitch uncontrollably as the whole pack surged over the threshold, whiskers twitching [you’ve used twitch twice here]; eyes glinting with slyness and hungry [hunger].

Within just a few minutes, the cats were inside fighting over the banquet and Jacquelyn's remains while a pack of feral dogs slunk a safe distance away, drooling and whining in frustration.

As it was, the helpings proved generous, and by the time everyone finished, they were completely sated.

-

Mechanical issues – some, I’ve pointed out the ones I caught but nothing major.

Style issues – some stilted wording and odd flow. I think just reading your work aloud might help you catch issues with flow.

Plot issues – fine. I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Girl prepares ceremony, pisses off a god, said god appears as a cat and summons a hoard of cats to eat her. Works fine by me. I wouldn’t over think the details on something like this. Although I would ask a few questions when revisiting this:

Are we meant to like this girl?

Is she meant to appear incompetent?

Are we meant to assume she’s a real witch? Or a wannabe?

How old is she? (this is just for scene setting)

Does she know any legitimate magic, or is this just a case of some friends having fun?

Telegraphing the above points will, I think, help alleviate some of the criticism in this story. The way I interpreted this story was: this girl is an incompetent wannabe and she angers the god with her wanton and childish imitation of real wiccan practices that go back for thousands and thousands of years. If that’s not how you want this character received, you might wanna consider adjusting things. Otherwise, I think clearing up the above points will make it clear that the specific details of which wiccan practice or French cult she hails from don’t actually matter. If the story is about an inauthentic wiccan, then the details of her ritual should also be inauthentic.

Also you’re fine with the talking cat. She’s a witch holding a broom and an ominous black cat appears. Sabrina and Hocus Pocus laid the groundwork for this. I wouldn’t worry about confusing your audience with it.''

Okay, I followed your editing advice and it's finished for another review.