Jeffrey Meyer's (centurymeyer35) Reviews

Jeffrey Meyer

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444 Public Reviews Given

447 Total Reviews Given

1

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#4804100

Review of The ballad of delirium

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with RAOK Upgrade Brigade Group

Rated: E

| (4.0)

Jen,

You have some exquisite imagery in this poem. The "crowded rooms filled with ghosts" is a very effective paradox with which to instantly grab the reader's attention. Juxtaposed to the second stanza's "permanent fixtures," we start to approach that conflicting mental state of delirium...

... But not quite, unfortunately. Delirium is what we can't write remember when we burned with fever or were absolutely buried under emotion. These lines certainly convey a confusion, but I personally did not feel the disjointed extremes of delirium.

But so what?! Call it poetic license. I only offer that as a constructive observation. But the poem is not the less for such "inexact vocabulary." I think this quite a good piece, demonstrating broad use of imagery and a good example of self-editing. You kept it brief, and that was a strength, in this case.

I'm glad this piece is my good-night story. It was a pleasant read, and I hope it inspires tonight's dreams...

--Jeffrey

2

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#4803824

Review of Final Cracks

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: 18+

| (4.5)

BigSauce,

The other side of the of the face of depression is anger, I have learned. Instead of approaching the desire to become null through depression, you've captured this through the lens of anger. It was a great choice, I think, because it is quite the road less travelled. Using anger as the impetus gives a driving force to the narrative, as opposed to the passive decline of depression.

Not only can emptiness be too much to take, but so can anger, as mentioned. There are lines in here that suggest the person in the poem still has the energy to fight but knows that his opponents won't realize when they've been beaten. His final punishment to them is his own death.

"You can kill me like a dog and I will take it like a man"
"But I don't give a fuck; that gay is going straight to Hell"
"And the principal would laugh 'cause our dad owns half this town"

At the end, this person wants to see something beautiful before it's all over, but--presumably based on prior experience--he is doubtful it will happen.

My notes on the mechanics aren't much, I'm afraid. There's a certain disjointed aspect to the mind contemplating suicide, surely. Nonetheless, to convey the scene better, I suggest adding end-line punctuation. The 5-line stanzas are unusual, and I find them a nice departure from the inevitable sing-songy nature of quatrains and couplets.

It's one heck of a powerful piece, and angry piece. I think it's important for us to remember that it's not always sadness that drives a person past their breaking point, and in a case like this, a person does not always try to take others with them by shooting up the place. Very thought-provoking, my friend. Well done.

--Jeffrey

3

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#4803690

Review of Neoprene and Salt

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.0)

Mia,

This last line is so wonderful, so inspiring. It's a much better variation of "count your blessings," to me.

This is a deeply personal piece, very honest and as vulnerable as it gets. I appreciate that honesty from a writer. Your depiction of your father's absence being harder in high school than just after it happened is important. It reminds the reader that loss will always be there, and that time passes...but it doesn't always heal; some wounds just get larger or smaller, throughout time. It is a relief to the reader that you have learned to accommodate the loss of your father in your everyday life, and very good technique for ending an essay with a positive resolution or forward-looking thought.

I think there's some ways to improve this.

~First would be to add line breaks between the paragraphs. It's pretty dense right now and intimidating to read. It might help to increase the font size, as well.

~Second, the paragraphs could re-ordered to give better flow to the piece. This particular reader felt that it skipped around a little.

~Finally, I suggest you omit "How did neoprene and salt redirect my life?" in the second-to-last paragraph. This whole essay is about how it changed your life, what it means to you, how it connects you to your father. You don't need that question stated; it is implied. And that beautiful final sentence answers it even we were too dense to ask it as we read.

My observations and comments are meant to be encouraging and helpful, never negative in any way; I hope you've found no offense in my critique of your very personal writing.

Thank you for inviting us in to witness some of your healing through writing. So that the healing may never end...Write On!

--Jeffrey

4

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#4803670

Review of The Last Spell

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: 18+

| (3.5)

DragonWoman,

I like the idea of rule being passed to a commoner. Mor than just a rags-to-riches story, it illustrates how we feel that the common man (or woman) is more in touch with the needs of the people than is government. For the Queen to know this, too, shows true wisdom in her rule. This is a nice illustration of peaceful succession of government.

I will note, constructively I hope, that it seemed to rush at the end. Flash fiction is really hard, I am finding, particularly balancing out the scene between setup, conflict, and resolution, while giving them all enough space to breathe and feel complete. This one seemed to be all of a sudden over; and whereas a 3-minute conversation took about 280 words, the forward-looking ending (the "ever after") was scarcely 20. Also, the use of "we" in the second-to-last paragraph seemed a bit off, as the rest was narrated in third-person.

I'm new to flash fiction, and it is not as easy as one might think! So if I'm being over-critical of stories in this challenging format, just ignore me.

--Jeffrey, the Flash-Flunkie

5

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#4803621

Review of Ring, Ring

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.5)

Jacky,

That last line does it, as I'm sure you are aware. How clever and playful! Well done with a dialog-driven piece. If you've read any of mine, you know how badly I struggle with that. I think it's a great writing tool, and you've used it well.

The line about the spider living in the hair reminded me of that old movie with Sylvester Stallone and Dolly Parton, Rhinestone. Stallone says, when someone mocks his hair, "Yeah, it's a home for wayward spiders."

I have just one note, which might have made your task at limiting this to 300 wiords a bit easier. "Godmother" is one word. You would have had 6 more words left to play with!

Fun story; congratulations.

--Jeffrey

6

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#4803619

Review of skin and bone

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: ASR

| (5.0)

Holy s***.

That hurts, bad. Man, the concentration of impact here is sharp, deftly done. And it's important, not just as honest self-realization and expression, but as a message to all of us, on either side of the poem.

I am reminded of a creative writing piece I read waaaaaaay back in high school. It was about teenage bulimia, and the only thing I remember is the last few lines. "I strip. I pee. I stand on the scale: 80 pounds. ...Just 80 more pounds to go."

Your poem is not specifically the same but has the same terrible impact on me--only much more concentrated.

It almost feels icky to offer any suggestions on this, but such is the nature of this site. The original rhyme has a very familiar sing-song rhythm to it. I wonder if sticking to that rhythm would give this better, more familiar flow in the readers' minds:

Sticks and stones ne'er broke my bones,
but words, they made me starve me...

I don't know, though; that kind of begs another couplet rather than just that third hammer-blow of a line, doesn't it? It's purely an academic observation in any case, not a finding of any type of fault.

This was pretty damn incredible, Nyxie. Maybe not a "pleasant" way to start my day, but certainly a powerful one.

Wow.

--Jeffrey

7

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#4803618

Review of i want to disappear

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with RAOK Upgrade Brigade Group

Rated: 18+

| (5.0)

Cat,

It's exhausting, isn't it? Trying to find reasons to keep trying to find reasons to go on? A lot of us have been there, and we can all tell stories and give you advice. "You should try this, and do that, and you need more sun, and you need vitamins, and you need a cat, and blah blah blah." A lot of us have been through it, sure--but we're not in it now, not with you. So I only hope anything I can offer will help in some small way.

Our own hearts break when we see our loved ones' hearts break. Our love generally grows stronger when we see our loved ones grow weaker. We want to lend our strength to those in need, even if those people are only using our compassion against us. The cruelty of someone trying to hurt you by making you watch them hurt themselves is beyond my comprehension. The inability to stop loving that person makes perfect sense, though. And continuing to love them, despite the knowledge of the toxicity of the situation, must feel shameful, especially with so many people telling you that it should.

You don't know me, nor I you--but I am not ashamed of your feelings. We both know they're not healthy, but toxic relationships are like a drug. They become addictive for some reason, and at some point, we realize we are defined by the situation. We don't know how to recognize ourselves as ourselves outside of the situation. It seems to become a losing situation, no matter which way you go. Yeah, it's fucked. But it's just the way it goes, sometimes; it's not shameful.

I offer this for consideration, though. If this act of his was cruel against you, a similar act by you would be equally cruel to those around you, who love you. I know, a million people have probably told you that, and it does absolutely nothing to help the empty sadness. It's still true, though.

Stick around; eventually, things change. Sometimes it takes longer than we think we can bear, but things change.

I think posting this was incredibly brave. If not specifically a cry for help, it's at least a scream of pain. We usually bottle up those screams, hide them. To let it out--and in public, no less--is a very brave and cathartic act. And I have to say that I am, as always, impressed that you speak more than one language, even though it is tiring on top of the tiredness you already feel. (It's common for my peers to sneer at "foreigners." I like to ask them: "Yeah? How many languages do you speak? How hard have you actually tried working toward a better life than you have now? How brave would you be in a completely different culture?" Sometimes we Americans can be real assholes.)

I'm not going to critique this writing. If anything, it should only be commended for simply existing. What I will do is encourage you to keep writing, keep screaming, continue acknowledging your own pain and indignance at being shamed for loving someone. Focus on the emotions, then the words; then focus on the ideas, then the mechanics of the writing. It can be the beginning of a road to a different mindset. At the very least, it could be a distraction from the emotional swamp you're in right now.

I hope to read more from you, my friend. And I hope your life takes you in the direction you need, even if it is different that which you desire or that which others think you should desire.

Very sincerely,

--Jeffrey

8

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#4803415

Review of The Rehearsal(First write, just a draft)

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.0)

Rex,

At the time of reading this, I am immediately reminded of the previews for Mickey 17, coming to theaters soon, where Robert Pattinson has to die over and over.

Why does Elliott have to die over and over? How is he being murdered repeatedly? Are they other people who just look like him? Are they dolls or dummies? Is he an android?

This is very cool. I really like the open-ended conclusion. Because we are left with those spooky questions. I think the different numbers of "attempts" is a nice touch, offering the reader a clue that there is some variety to Anna's methods, some more successful than others.

You mention this is a draft, but it's already pretty tight. The only place I see that could use some work in those last lines. Each character's lines could probably be merged into one paragraph. Here's what I mean. I know I'm taking liberties here, but it's meant to be constructive; please don't be offended.

Elliott's breath caught in his throat, and he felt something cold touch his spine. He turned, dread pooling in his stomach.

Anna stood in the doorway.

She tilted her head, and her smile was soft, loving. The way it always was. She blinked calmly at him and held up a fresh tape in her hand. The label was blank.

"I was really hoping you wouldn't find this," she murmured. "Not yet." She stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

The lock snicked into place with sinister finality.

"I guess we have to start over."

This is just plain cool. I can't wait to see how you polish it up. One could say this story is...killer!

--Jeffrey

9

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#4803406

Review of No Title Yet

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.5)

Laya,

Hope. So much is written about it. In my experience, hope rarely delivers, but it continues to inspire wonderful poems such as this.

Personally, I think spontaneous poems like this are awesome. I wrote one once, and it came out weird but oddly satisfying. I can feel the unplanned nature in this, I think. It wanders around and looks into some dark crevices before it finds what it wants to talk to me about: hope...or something else...

The imagery is strange and wonderful. As you move from darkness into light, usually representing an emergence from negative to positive, this poem depicts the opposite. You move from a void, where you know nothing, into a lighted place where you see terrible things that are apparently your fault, or that you perceive to be your fault. The only positive glimmer is that of hope, barely preventing the trees from being reclaimed by the void ground.

I wonder, though, if this poem is more about guilt than hope. If we consider nothing, in our own little void, we allow all manner of horrible things to happen because we are not stepping in to stop them; and when the light shines on what our negligence has allowed, blame shines fully on us...or at least it feels like that. And then the only recourse we have, no matter how feeble it is, is to hope things just "get better."

(The only real correction I can see in this piece is that the "a" in the first line should be "an.")

This is an intriguing and enticing poem. I'm glad I got to read it today, giving my mind something to chew on for the afternoon. If anything else comes to you while you're not thinking...Write On!

--Jeffrey

10

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#4803130

Review of Dinner Plates

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (5.0)

Jennifer,

Wow. This poem is wonderful, let's get that out front. It has confidence and assurance that conveys a quiet honesty. It is poem is woven through with themes that could be used for better or for worse, depending on the poet's mood. In this case, the themes of routine, age, and even a little resignation are dealt with very much for the better.

The whole work references the cyclic nature of life: nightly dishes, years of dinners, peepers each spring. Repetition can become boring and stagnant. On the other hand, it can be extremely comforting and stable. It is that stability which comes through so strongly to me in this poem.

You have also conveyed, without using the word, a sense of peace. The dishwasher is always off. Sunset colors on her face. Graceful rhythm. And no one speaks--we are reading the author's thoughts, but no one in the poem speaks. The reader only hears the gentle running water, muted rhythmic clink of dishes, and the twittering of chickadees. The sense of closeness and calmness accomplished is remarkable.

As we watch this woman and her routine in the evening and morning, the vocabulary of the poem is familiar enough that we have enough room to see our own lives in parallel, to compare and contrast the actions and feelings in the poem with how we act and feel in those scenarios. "Am I content enough with my routines of life that I am unperturbed by being painted in tired shades? Do I live and act and think as someone who has learned to love herself?" We all will have different answers, but the style with which you have written this allows us to arrive at them intuitively, effortlessly, with our hearts.

The subject of age is another that is discussed by implication only. Phrases such as arthritic hands, every night, tired shades--even the mention of the bracelets that were gifts in Amsterdam-- give hints and reinforcements that this relationship is not a young one, and the spouses are mature. They do not seem "old," however. They both seem calm, mature, serene, stable. These words don't express well the positivity I feel from this aspect of your poem, but it's the closest I can come. (And isn't it a sign of great writing when you can't say exactly why something makes you feel a certain way? I think so.)

Your concluding metaphor is strong. The moon is a common comparison for all sorts of things, and the comparison of a moon and dish is nothing new. In my opinion, what gives this so much strength is that your moon represents her dish. And the metaphor is so effective because it is the only one in the poem. The eyes see, the body feels, the mind records...and then the soul interprets, compares, paints a picture...writes a poem.

Poems are mostly about feeling, but there's always a mechanical aspect to them, as well. I think you managed presentation and delivery very well. Using punctuation made it so much ore understandable: the reader does not have to try to figure out if this line was part of the one before, where complete thoughts separated, etc. As a reader, I appreciate that. Your stanzas were separated well, each one a consumable image--and not too many of them so as to fatigue the reader. One always looks for an opportunity to make productive suggestions, though, so I will offer that the commas in your last two stanzas might need some revision. That's a very complex sentence, if you take away the line breaks and look at it as such--a lot of clauses and phrases. I don't think it takes away from the poem one tiny bit the way it is, but...well, either I really like being helpful, or I'm one of the world's worst know-it-alls.

I am very impressed with this poem. The length and vocabulary make it accessible and comfortable. The imagery is universal. The mood is calming, and the end is pleasantly thoughtful. But...those are just the words about why the poem is effective. I can't articulate the emotional impact this had on me. The closest I can come is that it made me feel peaceful and content, but there is much, much more.

I'm glad to have had the opportunity to start my day with this. Thank you for allowing us to borrow some of your peace for the day.

--Jeffrey

Reviewing signature for the B.E.A.R. Fund.

11

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#4802966

Review of My Daily Conversation

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (5.0)

Fifthwood,

I hope these last 11 years have brought you to safer place. I truly do.

This internal dialog hits very personally with me. Like so many millions of others, I struggle with depression. I'm doing alright, and I have professional support. But a few years before you wrote this, that was not the case.

There is yet hope... It's an odd perspective, maybe, but the internal struggle here is actually hopeful for me. At some point, that other voice just goes quiet. When one loses support of themselves, the downhill spiral gets disastrously steep. So your depiction of a person who still has their head far enough above the waterline to know there's a beach out there somewhere allows the reader to hold onto hope for the narrator. Another sign of hope is the word "safe," bookending this piece. "You're safe," he tells himself; "I'm safe," he reminds himself. Perhaps most promising of all is that the narrator "hopes" for positive things, rather than "doesn't want" negative things:

"I hope my co-workers will be nice to me." vs "I don't want my co-workers to be mean to me again."

"I hope the customers will be nice to me today." vs "I don't want the customers to be cruel to me again today."

The subtleties in our vocabulary are often subconscious markers of our mental state.

(...Hope you don't step on a friggin land mine, that is!) "Hiding," "quit," "crying," "alone." These key words remind us that were looking at a person in an emotionally isolated state, unstable and fragile. We can hope all we want, but your use of these words reminds us what the subject of this internal discussion already knows: that hope is far from reality. He or she knows close the edge is, knows how scary it feels to be driven an inch closer to it with every negative encounter. And that very feeling seems to try to swamp this person, as well.

A little further till safety... Fortunately, this person is looking forward to eking through their day toward the safety of their bed. Again, they still hope to survive each day. But the struggle you portray is realistic, full of giant mountains of fear that "normal" people see as road bumps. Every instance of needing to think or interact, to a depressed person, is like crossing a puddle of tar. It's exhausting, unpleasant, frightening--what if I get stuck in this and make it to safety?!

Rest restlessly and repeat. The subject recharges at the end of this dialog. How much, we don't know, but I'll bet it's only an emergency-level charge the next day. Sleep isn't rest at this point, it's just more hiding. But it's the goal of the day, and you've gotten the character there in an organic way. He's exhausted, sad, and fearful...but safe.

Favorite lines. Some of these lines hit like darts, because I've experienced them. They were written well enough for the reader to actually feel your words, which is why we write, I'd say.

~"I hate hiding in the bathroom stall." And literally holding both hands over my mouth so no one will hear me sobbing in hysterics.

~"I did it wrong." This one happens to me every day, even though I'm "better" now. This is like a bell tolling in my head. Such a simple line, but very insightful into the depressive mindset.

~"But, they don’t understand how hard this is for me."

~"I don’t want to go back out there."

~"Come on put on a smile;" "You have to be happy for them;" "I’m too tired to play happy." What I find very interesting about these three lines/phrases is that all of these thoughts belong to one person, yet that person is berating themselves to meet the obligation the world imposes of wearing a happy face, all the while also acknowledging that doing so takes more energy than he or she has.

There's always room for improvement. This is pretty tight, but I will make offer two notes:

~Putting one of the "voices" in italics might help, so the readers eye can move more quickly and not lose the thread of which mindset is being expressed.

~This is an observation, not a critique. While written well enough to make me hurt, this might seem melodramatic or worse to someone who has not struggled with depression. I have no thoughts on how to make it more universal, and you probably already thought of this when you started writing. But I thought it worth mentioning.

We're never healed. We just get better than we were. It feels better to feel better. I hope you're feeling better.

Thank you for sharing this mirror with me and reminding me what I--and so many others--have managed to survive.

--Jeffrey

12

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#4802917

Review of Trick or Treat?

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (2.0)

Derg,

You address insecurity well in this compact story. So many of us do or have felt small in some way; entered a crucible to prove ourselves (usually to ourselves); and come away giants compared to what we perceived ourselves to have been. Ben's physical transformation demonstrates this common yearning very well.

This seems like it is the introduction to a bigger story, because the ending is very... well, open-ended, offering no resolution to the new conflict: Ben rediscovering himself as much more than he used to be. So hopefully there are some more paragraphs that will be written after this.

There's a big technical problem in the writing, something you want to be very conscious of moving forward: tense consistency. You switch from past tense in the first paragraph to present tense for part of the second paragraph, and then return to past tense for the third. Most of the time, either something is happening now, or it already happened. It's imperative that we, as writers, enable our readers to stay in the correct timeframe to keep them immersed in the story.

As a framework or an intro, this piece works fine. If it's a stand-alone piece, the reader needs a lot more background and more gradual transition throughout the story.

I hope you continue to be fired up about Ben, and decide to Write On!

--Jeffrey

13

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#4802731

Review of Death is my job

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: 13+

| (3.5)

Legwrites,

I wonder why Death is always portrayed as cruel or evil. In the movie Meet Joe Black, Death performs the role of mercy to a woman in the hospital. I think of it simply as a function of biology, personally.

Your image of Death as an active malevolence is clear from this short poem, as it laughs at the living sufferers. "Beautiful distress" is a vivid, disturbing phrase--but quite fitting in this context. Nice job!

There's one note I will make: the fourth line of the first stanza reads "As the smell of sick." Should that be "the smell of the sick?" Or "The smell of sickness?" Right now, the verb refers to an adjective instead of a noun, which throws the reader.

Nice short piece, depicting death is a distinct light and leaving the reader no room to misunderstand the writer's attitude toward death and Death.

--Jeffrey

14

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#4802654

Review of Autumn Leaves

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: ASR

| (4.0)

Prier,

Well, we always say a story needs a good hook!

First off, before I get all long-winded, I liked this piece a lot. There's some great elements, and some places that could use some work. But overall I quite like it. Now, if you want more than that, keep reading.

Okay, check it out--here's how I review. You and I are sitting in quiet bar, in that booth way in the back. Yeah, that one. I know it smells a little bit like old dishwater, but you'll get used to it. We've each brought a stack of notebooks, and we're here to swap stories and look at each other's stuff...... Why the weird preamble? Because that's really how I review--just like we were sitting together. There's no template that I use, just my honest thoughts and notes and critiques. And maybe a beer when we're done. Well, the peanuts are here, at least, so let's get started.

Check out the view! Your work with the setting is excellently nuanced. You paint a vivid and colorful picture in the first paragraph. Living in the Midwest, this is a familiar scene to me in the fall. I can't say I'm as enthusiastic about raking as Susan is, but to each their own, I reckon.

You fill out the setting subtly, very comfortably for the reader. Instead of one expository paragraph of what everything looks like, you let details seep in: The garage--Okay, we're not on the farm... Later you introduce the leaf-sucker truck (which is almost as loud as that dang leaf blower!)--gotcha, we're in the suburbs. Jeffrey and the neighbor both pass by within fifteen to thirty minutes--I see; so a) it's not super early morning, and b) the neighbors are close enough to see, but probably not right on top of one another. Yet you also show restraint. You've given me a sense of where Susan is and a general context of the greater area, but I have enough room imagine the yard as big or small as I want, the road as wide or cramped as that with which my own mind is familiar. Thank you for letting me add the tiny details myself.

And what a character! Your characters are few--mostly Susan. By the way, I was a little eye-rolly when her wardrobe was first explained in such detail. But when she started humming "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story, I understood that the detailed image of her was important to her positive mental state. (Incidentally, West Side Story is among my top five favorite musicals; Miss Saigon is somewhere around the bottom nine million.) I thought slipping that song in really gave a familiar anchor to reality for the reader; I really liked that bit.

Jeffrey's a loose end, unfortunately. Is he just off? Or is he dangerous? What is his importance to the story? How does he drive action or tension? It seems like there is something indistinctly dangerous about him, like maybe he is obsessed with out oh-so-pretty Susan. But he never returns to the story after his second pass, and Susan is able to release the small amount of tension his presence did introduce in one sentence. I think you have room to fill his character out and give him a purpose; or maybe it's an opportunity to omit him altogether and make Susan's later discovery that much more contrasting to an otherwise innocuous and pretty scene.

Neighbors can be so useless. In this case, the neighbor in the car is, too. I'm extrapolating here, but I think you might have been trying to build a negative sexual tension with these characters, that maybe Susan was looking too pretty and attracting the wrong kind of attention. Perhaps you were hinting that her feeling of urgency was increasing because of the stares and whistles and shrinking deadline of the leaf vacuum's arrival. That's got to be my interpretation, because it's just not clear enough from the text. I'm hoping you can explain that to me, actually.

Captain Hook sucks. Literally, since he's the leaf-sucker man. Unfortunately, he's kind of a contradiction. He smiles and waves with his hook after a severed hand is found in Susan's leaves. There's a couple of questions there. Is that a coincidence? If it was really his hand, he got a prosthetic pretty quick, and he seems awfully cheerful about being, well...shorthanded. If it was his hand, why was it in Susan's yard? Is he another stalker? Has he been watching Susan as well? He's a bit of a mystery, and maybe he was supposed to be. Maybe these questions were intended to be left open-ended; if so, I think there is some work earlier in the story to better set it up.

And then that's it--pump the brakes! The ending was way too abrupt, in my opinion. My notes in the margin as I was reading this (yes, as we sit in the bar, I marked up your manuscript; sorry. I'll buy ya two beers when we're done.

): "Needs some transition between feeling oh, so pretty and finding a hand!" I think a transitional sentence or two and fleshing out that paragraph a little more is an important correction. (Pun not intended. Okay, a little bit intended.) A transition is needed after the "turn," as well--after the *** spacer line. Expand the paragraph a little. Do a little bit more than tell us the hand got bagged there's a detective coming later. (For one thing, the hand wouldn't be bagged until the detective got there; also, the detective would be there quicker than flies find poop if someone reported a severed human hand.) Susan's got to be a bit freaked at this point. That detail might set up more emotional cliffhanger tension at the end when The Hookster waves at her.

Let's look under the hood. You asked for a review, and I really enjoyed your story, so I'm happy to give you both barrels.

~I'll start off small: the species of the trees don't need to be capitalized; neither does "show" in "Broadway show."
~Should Dad's term for the rake--old school--be in quotes, instead of italics? I might suggest this because monikers and expressions, like Jake "The Snake" Roberts, are customarily set off in quotation marks.

~UN-italicize the phrase "she thought" the first time "Jeepers Creepers" Jeffrey rides by.

~You have some tense-agreement issues, mostly toward the end. Tense agreement is one of my pet peeves: either a thing happened already, or it's happening now.
"
~~~"But now the city comes by with this truck with a big vacuum hose and sucks up the leaves…" "Now" seems to imply present tense, but she could be thinking to herself in past perfect continuous tense. Since it's a little confusing, you might want to revisit that one.
~~~"…the detective is coming later this afternoon." This one's definitely problematic. The words "is" and "this" put the sentence in present tense while the rest of the story is in past tense.

Again, I want to emphasize that I liked this very much, and I look forward to reading more of your work.

Remember, these are just my thoughts, observations, and opinions. They meant to be respectful, encouraging, and constructive. If they have been unwelcome, well… you can print this out and flush it down the toilet, if you want. Or set it out with the leaves.

Here's your drinks, by the way.

--Jeffrey

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#4802591

Review of Exhaustion

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.0)

Scy,

Truth is mentioned frequently in this piece about Exhaustion, in one way or another. False smiles, fake camaraderie. True exhaustion. The reader is might be left wondering if this is a case of overstating a principle that is not a fact so that people will believe it...

Albeit, I personally think it is not. "Teenage angst" is real. The mind is changing, the body is changing. Menopause and midlife crisis are similar--monumental shifts in body chemistry that are absolutely exhausting, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The struggle is real, friend. Your struggle is the truth.

It doesn't get better; you have to make it better. From someone who knows how far down a bad road the exhaustion can take you, the truth is "no one but you can save yourself..."

Constructive note: you're missing a lot of commas, which are as exhausting to writers as constantly being on guard against people truly knowing us can be to the rest of us.

I appreciated this piece. I won't say "like," because it hit way to close to home to be a pleasant ramble down memory lane for me. But I appreciate it for its truth.

Keep up the struggle; there's a good chance you'll win. It feels better to feel better. And that's the truth.

--Jeffrey

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#4802347

Review of Basking in the Sunlight

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (3.0)

Busman,

This might not be a really long review, but there's a reason for that. I need more! You set a great scene here. I can visualize it easily. But as a reader, I want more. What is the cat thinking? What are you thinking? Are you thinking about the cat? The sun? The symbiosis of the two? Are you reflecting on the personality of the relationship of the cat and the sun? I'm hungry for metaphors and observations that not only bring this to physical life, but to emotional and psychological life, as well.

Reading a few your poems about your cat, I have decided to write another biographical piece, in the vein of the friend you lost in "The Day the Music Died." I am looking for a door into that story, and wondering if there is anything there a reader wants to look at. And as I do that, I also wonder, would this poem of yours work as something other than a poem? A vignette, maybe? Is it something you would ever consider trying?

Just some thoughts from one reader, and nobody's editor or agent, for sure. I hope, as always, you've taken no offense.

I have to go sit in the sun, now, and see if I can Write On!

--Jeffrey

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#4802345

Review of I AM YOUR CAT FOR LIFE!

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (3.5)

Busman,

This is so true for all pets. I did have to rehome a cat, around 10 years ago. I felt sick doing it. Although--kind of a funny story--we found a white cat outside, one time, that had been declawed on all four paws. That's a death sentence for an outdoor stray, so we took him in. We had several cats at the time, and coincidentally they were all black. (You should have seen the Bombay. He was gorgeous...and had the attitude and power of Sonny Liston!) Well, I don't know if cats are racists, too, but all the black cats would gang up on that poor white one and just beat the living hell out of him. We ended up rehoming him for his own good.

There's not much to critique here in your poem. Cats are so quirky that I wondered if a little humor (from the POV of the cat) would help. On the one hand, it might dilute the seriousness of the statement; on the other, it might engage the reader more so they get the statement. Perhaps more poetic presentation, more cadenced verbiage? Those are more personal stylistic choices than anything, so I hope that doesn't offend.

In all, a very good, straightforward and true credo about owning pets.

--Jeffrey

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#4802326

Review of Time stops around the fire

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.5)

Riley,

Small gatherings have an intimacy to them, I agree. The act of sitting around the fire has actually been traced to an atavistic need to gather in groups before the flames for both heat and safety. Although we're not cavemen (or -women) anymore, we still feel that primal urge to gather, to share in warmth and security, to seclude ourselves from the night of technology, progress, and change. We give in to the innate urges to write with each other, sing with each other, paint on the cave walls together.

Man is a gregarious species. Some of us claim to be hermits or loners, but I think Bruce Springsteen hit it pretty much on the head: "It don't matter what nobody says / Don't nobody want to be alone." Well...not always, anyway. But you're right about something else: the fire goes out; it's temporary, and it burns itself to ash once its purpose has been fulfilled. We do also have a need to spend time alone. We remember those times together, though, and it brings a safety in our aloneness, allows us to accept ourselves as individuals because we know we are still part of a group. And when we start to lose touch with the group and feel lonely instead of just alone… well our cave-dwelling ancestors passed down to us the ability to recreate that spark and come together again.

I agree that we should seek the bonfires. Especially in today's connected-but-disconnected world, it's important to have those face-to-face moments, those "us-against-the-night" moments. Because those are the times I want to be part of your tribe, want to hear your stories, and want you to hear mine.

Thanks for letting me read one of yours today.

--Jeffrey

19

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#4802324

Review of Starbucks New Policy

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (3.5)

ZZ,

What a bummer! When companies change their policies, it's often an inconvenience. For me, it sometimes even feels personal! I know it's not, of course, but some days it sure feels that way.

Starbucks is a huge host company. They draw big crowds of mobile workers, groups of people who would go to the bar if they were old enough or if they were off work. At some point, things can get too big. The decision to pare back to a local coffee shop vibe is an interesting direction for them to take. I wonder if it will result in a loss of business in some areas, but a more sustainable business model.

I remember when McDonald's stopped giving out water. I found out on a terribly hot day when I had been walking all over creation. NO WATER FOR YOU! I find the notion of complimentary water hilarious to the point ridiculous. If I have enough money to buy an $8.00 coffee, what the heck do I need a free water for?!

I wonder if your article could be massaged into a letter-to-the-editor of a newspaper. Perhaps some more personal context, social context, more opinion, maybe even a humorously snarky comment. Or perhaps it could be adjusted to a journal entry, giving much more personal context as to the previous state you experienced, the current state, and the negative ways it impacts you. As it is, it feels almost like a passing comment rather than a considered observation.

Not being a Starbucks fan myself, this doesn't impact me. But knowing about their change in business model is definitely an interesting note, and it makes me want to keep my eyes open to see how Starbucks performs in the near future.

Thanks for giving me some information I didn't have this morning. Write On!

--Jeffrey

20

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#4802320

Review of A Plastic Pause

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: 18+

| (5.0)

Drew,

I like this! I like that we never need to know the dilemma to which a decision is needed. Because in the story, the dilemma is the relationship of the brothers to come to terms with one another, not the problem (whatever it is). Conner's passively written portrayal is an excellent device. Mike is active; Conner is passive. Yet it is Conner who must take the action. What a wonderful dynamic.

There are some details here that I want to highlight, because they really give the setting a life, something into which we can insert ourselves, like we can in a movie or TV show.

~ The fish tank. I can see the bubbles and the fish...but I can also see Conner, through the water and glass, looking bent and distorted, just as his mind is at that point.
~ The table and the waiter. Both are old and a bit unstable. It seems the grueling process of doming to a decision is the same for the brothers. The atmosphere of the restaurant lends a certain desperation to the scene.
~ The wind. A character with an active role to play at the end, the strong, cold wind is inimical, irrefutable. Its early arrival imposes an immediacy to the scenario.

There's a few places where a word might be missing an "s" or a comma is misplaced, but nothing worth pointing out in detail. The writing is pretty tight. There are a lot fragments, though, almost poetic in nature. In this particular piece, I think it can be chalked up to creative license rather than writing errors. On another positive note, your choice to present this is a slightly larger font made it much easier for me to read; I appreciate and applaud that choice.

This was a really enjoyable read. I hope to see more of your work as you Write On!

--Jeffrey

21

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#4802181

Review of A Day at the Zoo

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.5)

Geirr,

Deciding what's important is usually easy. Paying attention to deciding what's important eludes us often.

You paint a very clear picture her. I think we've all observed a version of this man, absorbed in his own world of bullying and demanding, heedless of those around him. Excellent little jab by "bringing into question on which side of the cage he stood."

When Jack realized he was the reason his dad was so angry, the reader hurts along with the boy. I'm sure Jack was cheered up by his father's recognition of what's important. I'm not so forgiving; this jerk of a father will forget the lesson next time his phone rings. Excellent job using so few words to create an utterly dislikable character.

There were a couple of mechanical glitches here and there: auto-correct errors, it looks like, and one paragraph formatting oops. That's the worst I can do I do on criticism!

I enjoyed this short piece, and I'll make sure to behave myself next time I'm at the zoo; the monkey house does seem big enough for one more fool of a primate...

--Jeffrey

22

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#4802025

Review of Songbird: A Villanelle

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: ASR

| (4.0)

Anchor,

I love villanelles. I suck at writing them, but I love to read them.

This one could be either a literal folk tale or a very complex metaphor, as is Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. I wonder if the Adversary in your poem represents disease or disorder or illness, rather than physical foe; I wonder if Lirena pursues such Adversary not through actual waters and shores, but through the seas of medicine, faith, prayer, hope. Too often, ailments are stronger than their sufferers, and the victims succumb, no matter how hard their loved ones try to save and serve them. "Her beloved was already in decay" seems to hint that her final visit to him was after he had already died, and it works for both the literal and metaphorical interpretation.

I'm going to offer an opinion on villanelle in general, here. It's just my opinion, and I mean no disrespect to your poem as you wrote it. I find it more compelling when the repeated lines do not stand alone, but complete, begin, or further the overall narrative, subtly changing the context of the statement but not its basic meaning. That's also why I am not good at writing them (to my liking, at least); trying to pivot those lines strategically is often too hard for me. But that is just my opinion, and it does not decrease the quality of your piece in any way.

One mechanical note, though, the last two lines are supposed to be the same as the first and third lines; your final line is a little different.

I enjoyed reading this and seeing which interpretation fit me the best. As readers, we get to do that: apply the poem to our own lives as best we can. And if a poem can make me think like that, work around the verses in my mind like that, then it has beena good poem, indeed.

Write on, my friend!

--Jeffrey

23

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#4802021

Review of On the Third Day

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (4.5)

Conrad,

I was raised in the Catholic church, as I might have mentioned. I tell people I was a Catholic until reached the age of...REASON! Sadly, that's only a little bit flippant; it's mostly how I feel.

Faith and Religion, being it Christian or not, are far removed from one another, I think. Religion is the man-mad tool a select few use to impose their own power over those who have Faith. And when the acolytes begin to see through the mystical curtain or rituals and mantras, they start to see a disappointing reality: we're all just people, and that's all we'll ever be, no matter how we try to be something else.

This perspective is demonstrated in Chin's frustration and disappointment. "I put myself through hell for what? I was fooled, and I was a fool. I'm done." I like the emphasis you put on the irritation he felt at being idolized, especially in concert with him understanding so much more his own physical reality/mortality. Like all of us, once Chin sees how the magic of the monastery works, he can't un-see it and return to the awe of the acolyte. (I actually wrote a poem once that intimated, in short, I wished for all the awe-struck acolytes out there that they never passed beyond that stage, because there's only disappointment waiting up ahead. I wonder if I still have that somewhere in one these notebooks...)

I observed just a couple of mechanical mistakes. I'll point them out in the hope that the constructive criticism helps in some small way.

~"He felt retched." "Wretched" is the more apropos word here.

~"The two gentleman" breaks plurality rules. You probably just fat-fingered the keyboard, having meant "gentlemen."

~I'm not sure on this next one, because it could be intended two different ways: should "solipsistic crutch" have been "solipsistic crux," or was the "crutch" of religion actually what you were trying to communicate?

This story is a good demonstration of Orwell's statement in 1984 that "ignorance is bliss." Personally, Conrad, I'm glad I peeked behind the curtain of the Church and saw the true, entirely human Wizard of Oz Rome.

As always, a very well-though-out piece, and a pleasure to read, sir.

--Jeffrey.

24

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#4801816

Review of Well-Hid Panties

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: 13+

| (4.5)

Tim,

First off, I'm a panty man. They drive me crazy, even the glimpse of the to off the waistband of a woman's panties turns the switch on for me.

Second, although I no longer keep the faith, I was raised Catholic. As such, my psyche was imbrued with repression and denial as ways of life.

Third, I'm not a dick. I know women don't want to be leered at and have creeps trying to scope out their panty-lines, and whatnot. So I glance, but don't stare.

I mention all of this toward one summation: All of these things together made your poem very interesting to me. It turned it into an exploration of personal intent and social ambivalence, rather than something erotic. The woman here seems to want the persona to look, to check her out. But the person's of the poem is constrained by faith: "But for my faith, I’d be less moved
To enjoy forbidden treasures." The character also doesn't want to transgress social boundaries.

~ Privacy:"Does she notice my reluctant stare/ In that male, tight-lipped fashion?"
~ Fidelity: "The love I own is rich indeed,/ A love so fine, the best"

But the woman is flirtatious and encouraging to his glances:

~ "A buxom girl, a stunner, not shy,/ With a man not being dissuasive"

Fine. So what's the big deal? Well, the contradictions are well illustrated here.

~ "Don't stare at women... Unless they want you to... Unless they look like they want you to, but don't really..."
~ "Don't be a perv and fixate on a woman's underwear... Even if she is leaving it exposed deliberately, like the top of a g-string."
~ "Don't even feel attracted to someone you're not currently committed to... Even though that's the way the human mind and body are built."
~ "And if you do any of these things, feel guilty, punish yourself inside by looking nowhere but the floor, becoming withdrawn and submissive."

There's a lot of social and cultural implications to unpack, but there's a lot to actually think about here. Very good job.

(BTW, I couldn't find anything to point out in the way of constructive suggestions!

)

--Jeffrey

25

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#4801807

Review of Foxtrot Tango

Review by Jeffrey Meyer

In affiliation with WdC SuperPower Reviewers Group

Rated: E

| (5.0)

Conrad,

I don't know whether to smile or weep at the end of this. I think that's awesome, too, because it makes me think. It makes me wonder how the effects of geriatrics will impact me, what should I expect, what should I hope for? When the gears in my mind start wearing smooth, should I be afraid or relieved?

At first, I thought this was a man writing about free-writing. It's the exact same sort of stream-of-consciousness writing most of my free-writes take. I decided to just go with it and see where your rambling took me. When they took me to the old man's convalescent bed, I realized the seemingly meandering prose was very structured and intentional, indeed.

I don't think there's anything I can offer in the way of constructive criticism. The writing is tight, conforms to the constraints of flash fiction. Your arc is complete, and the theme becomes quite clear. (I have a lot of trouble condensing story arcs and themes into flash fiction; I guess I likes me words too muchly!) I don't see any mechanical errors, really. Well, there's a missing period after "Any of it," but I ain't mad.

This reads almost like prose-poetry up until the final three lines. As I read it, I was wondering if it would have worked as a poem. But I decided that, in my opinion, keeping it in this format was a smart choice. For reasons I can't articulate, it just works better as something that drifts between prose and poetry. Maybe it's because that's how it feels when you're just about to fall asleep, or in the grips of a really high fever.

Alzheimer's is my ultimate enemy. Not cancer or diabetes or crabs, although God knows those are horrible Alzheimer's is cancer of the past, and the past is really the only thing we own, the thing people can't take away from us no matter what. Alzheimer's takes it away, though, eats it away. When I have a few bucks to spare, that's the charity I give to.

But a mind that's getting old is going to slip its gears from time to time, and it's not always a disease, like Alzheimer's. In the case of your character, it's just...getting old. So I have the obligation to think, to ask myself, to investigate my own feelings: is it the loss of one's memories in old age that angers me...or the danger that Alzheimer's could happen to me even before I'm old? Is Alzheimer's the monster I hate for its impact on our society...or am I more afraid that it might impact me?

I comment in a lot of my reviews that writing should make a person think, feel, question. This very short piece does exactly that. One is forced to think: is imagination still a good thing if we get lost in it?

Very nice flash fiction, Conrad. Good way for me start my day.

--Jeffrey