Just slipping past on my wander through "Wonderland" to take a look at your own mad wander.
And I have to say that this was a lot of fun. I like that you were able to find a way to tell a complete story through the prompts. I'm looking forward to seeing what new adventures that Angie and Fluffy get themselves into in Looking Glass World. I enjoyed bringing in Abe Lincoln as major character in Wonderland--getting her started on the quest. I liked how you made time the primary problem and how you ended up making the resolution of the problem about friendship.
The squirrel race was cute--and I liked how you awarded the crown to the one who was most scared, and that he didn't want it. After all, maybe we should only give power to people who don't want it.
I thought you did a good job with the poems. The mirror poem was thought provoking and I liked how you shaped it. The little pug poem was so cute and fit because Fluffy is a pug of course. I liked how you fit a description of the dog into the rhyme scheme. Very cleverly done.
I think you've done a great job so far in your journey through Wonderland, and I look forward to reading more as you go.
Hey. I've been wandering beside you on this path through "Wonderland" this year, trying to keep up with everyone and getting finished this time, and I have to say I've enjoyed your journey this year. I like the poetry--when there's a choice I tend to go for poems, so I was happy to see your golden key poem, and then you used it in the next prompt to go down the silliness of an accidental space traveler causing problems (as they would of course). I enjoyed your parodies--the dungeon master, who was a clever take on the original (yes, I know that Carroll was parodying Isaac Watts "How Doth the Little Busy Bee") and I thought he'd appreciate it. I loved your Wheels on the Bus, which felt like the kind of wry remarks that a father would include in a song to make their children think, maybe because the original is so . . . tedious . . . And I enjoyed the saga of the puzzle solver, who was more clever than he could of justified being and lost everything--clever moral there.
I enjoyed the insights you've given into your own life. I'm sorry to hear about the frustrations that you've felt recently at church and the story about your new car was indeed something that was so frustrating that it can only be laughed at later.
I enjoyed your stories. You have a gift for character and humor. I really enjoyed your invitation for introverts--you made that so appealing for someone like me who would enjoy not interacting with people for a while. I enjoyed Teddy's hunting trip, and recognized the quotes right away--that makes as much sense as anything else. And I really enjoyed your pet dragon terrorizing the town.
All in all, I've really enjoyed wandering along with you on this journey, and I can't wait to see where you end up next. I'm rooting for you to finish the journey this year--although I know that life sometimes gets in the way. It did for me last year.
Just passing through, joining my fellow mad wanderers through "Wonderland"
I don't like reading ahead of where I am in our trail, but I've enjoyed catching up with your journey and look forward to reading more. I love the way you've linked all of your prompts into a single journey. I know it isn't easy because some of these prompts are so random when compared with the next in the list . . . I just have to say I'm impressed in general.
In specific, I've enjoyed your poetry--the mirror poem that I've ended with for now was clever. I liked how you were following a cat just like Alice did in the story. I really liked the two parodies that you did earlier (the chihuahua dog felt like it was truly connected to Carroll's little Crocodile, and then your Twinkle twinkle little cat . . . that truly reminded me of Carroll's own parody of that song that the dormouse sings during the tea party chapter. So clever all the way around.
I also really enjoyed what you did with the story of the tart trial. I liked the dialogue and the way you got your character out of the accusation and kept everyone's head on their shoulders. To me, given the character of the Queen of Hearts, it makes sense that she was the one who ate the tarts in the first place. Clever again.
It's been fun trailing along behind you on your journey through wonderland, and I'm looking forward to continuing that journey as I follow you towards the end of the trail.
Hey, stopping by on my way through "Wonderland" to take a look at my fellow mad wanderers. I've enjoyed reading your journey. I'm so sorry to hear about your bones and the difficult time you've been having. I especially enjoyed the Educations that you chose. I wish that people would learn how to close the door after themselves (or leave it open as the case my be). In our house, most of the doors in the downstairs (not the bedrooms, of course) are slatted two part doors that meet in the middle. And when my nieces and nephews were young, they would slam them shut over and over again as they went in and out of the living room. Yes, we wanted them to be shut, but we also wanted the kids to pick a room and not run like whirling Tasmanian Devils all over the house. Ah well.
I also liked the poetry, especially the mirror one. I love the feeling of disconnection--as though the mirror world has totally made the speaker float between actions--which is kind of what I think happens when staring at a mirror for too long.
Good work. I'm only on the second part B, so I haven't read ahead to see what you've done further up the path from me, but I'm looking forward to getting there soon.
Good luck as you wander through the madness. Thanks for joining me here.
I think you have something interesting here. The experiment is well described and the examples that you use have real world application that people would understand and appreciate. To me, it reads like a short script for a YouTube clip, if that makes sense.
I have no comments about the science (because I know nothing about the magnetic qualities of Oxygen) but I do have some writerly advice for this.
First: I think you may do well to consider this a short essay. Essays (like paragraphs) have a structure that basically goes: 1. Describe what it is you plan to do. 2. Do it. 3. Explain what it was you just did and give any further implications.
Here, I think you're missing the first bit--something to give your reader context as to what you're planning to do with this piece of writing. Consider adding onto the beginning of your piece a short paragraph that describes why this is important to you--why the question came up. You want to guide your readers into this information instead of simply plopping them into the experiment. Why should we care about whether oxygen or magnetic--why did this come up?
Second: Consider giving a link to the wikipedia article in your essay. You are presenting this as a secondary source--make it easy for your reader to access that source.
Third: Edit your item and genres so that it will be part of the listings. Right now, it can only be found under "other" but this is about science or chemistry or technology or medicine or cars . . . if you add a genre, someone who may have similar interests may find it and give some feedback that is about the content not just the structure like I'm doing.
Fourth: Read your item aloud. This is something I recommend to everyone. Read every sentence. Does it sound right? If there is a place where you stumble, your readers will, too. Is it a sentence? Every sentence should be a complete thought where the subject and the verb are close to each other so that they communicate well with the reader. Read every word. Is it the right word? Is there a word that has more connotative value that would work better?
You have the bones of a good essay.
Thanks for writing.
Hello and thank you for letting me shadow you on our way through Wonderland. I've enjoyed reading your takes on the prompts. You have a real gift for placing yourself as a character in the odd situations that Wonderland calls for, and yet making them consistent with the self that you share in the less fictional segments. I think I most enjoyed the tidbits of your life that you've shared--becoming reconciled with grey hair and those odd car scenes (they both were quite frightening).
Good luck in the rest of your journey. I'm coming up on your heels . . .
Thanks for writing.
Thank you for agreeing to have your work evaluated by the contest. I like to divide my reviews into two sections, my reaction as a reader and my advice as a writer. As always, this is your work—and you’ll know best if any suggestions fit the mood of the piece.
as a reader: I can feel for the universality of the situation. Here is a Mama who is concentrating on the minutia of Christmas that she doesn’t pay attention to her children who are the ones the presents are for. By concentrating on the physical aspects of her love, she forgets to show love, and I think that’s a feeling that anyone can empathize with.
as a writer: I think the biggest note I have for your story is the names. I totally was getting all the kids confused. I know that it’s cute to have every child named the same letter (and it’s referenced in the story with the candy cane thing), but in a short story, especially one this short, it makes keeping track of them confusing. Especially when it turned out that the girls were Jenny, Jamie, and Josie, three names that even have the same structure and feel to them. I realize that they are different ages, but I had a hard time figuring out which one was which.
Related to that, I wasn’t sure of the significance of some of the rings. I understand Josie’s first real ring and even Jonathan’s Ring of Power, but I wasn’t sure what to make of a dentist’s ring—is it something that she got for being good at the dentist? And what’s a diaper ring? I had some really odd images going through my head there, which I think would be fixed by a short description of what those rings mean to the mother or the children—like the one you gave when you described Josie’s ring.
Another question I had related to the fact that in Jeff’s note, states that he had some help from the kids in the quest of the day. If that was so, I am surprised that there wasn’t more consciousness on the kid’s part as she finds the rings. A pointed hint from one of them that she needs to move the coffee pot or some stifled giggles. Kids, especially kindergarten ones, have a hard time with keeping secrets. If they didn’t know/help hide the rings, how did they help?
Finally, a logistical issue. It felt like she was finding the rings over the course of unrelated chores throughout the day—and yet she found them all and in the right order. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but I did notice it and it felt contrived.
I think this is a sweet story that made me smile. Nicely done.
Thanks for writing.
Probably the rhyme scheme and variable structure. Or maybe the rolling, wandering eyeball, or the gore dripping . . . there were so many delicious parts I can't pick just one.
I'd this part:
I can't think of anything I'd do to make this more awfuller.
Overall:
I think I know some animal rights activists that would do something just like this if they were zombies--as it is . . .
It's entirely filling that a zombie's favorite movie would be Night of the Living Dead. I think I'll have to revisit it . . .
This part was delicious:
Probably the popcorn sounds or the smelly sardines.
I'd this part:
I didn't see the need to mask the screams, but nothing I could think of could make this poem any awfuller. It was beautiful awfullness.
Overall:
After this round, I may never go to a theatre again--it seems the worst place for a non-zombie--or maybe I'll just have to remain in zombiehood for the rest of my undeath . . .
Hello and welcome to the horde. I hope you are having fun, and thank you for this marvolous piece of awfullness. I can feel my brain dissintegrating as I type . . . meaning that my next awful poem will plumb previously unknown depths
This part was delicious:
Probably the description of the professor--he does sound like he would be lovely for dinner.
I'd this part:
I really couldn't think of a thing I would change to make this more awfuller.
Overall:
It makes me want to revisit the movie . . . Good luck and have fun.
Huh. I realized after I read your poem that the prompt could be taken that way, and suddenly I worry about my own example of a zombie's favorite movie, because I didn't include any titles at all.
This part was delicious:
Probably "fear my wrath, feed my soul, feed me now" or perhaps the delicious craniums--or the sometimes rhymescheme that you used
I'd this part:
I tried, but I couldn't think of anything I would change to make this worse. I'm sorry.
Overall:
This has made me yearn for another showing of zombie films--maybe five or six in a row.
You know something, there's something about Twilight and its fan base that just makes me think of zombies. The wolves and vamps are read by people who then turn into zombies pining for Carlyle.
This part was delicious:
Probably the list line--the rhyme was just so forced tht it made me laugh out loud. And I really appreciated that you used a limerick form, which just screams BAD POEM! Or would if poems actually talked.
I'd this part:
Maybe . . . sorry, can't think of anything I could do to make this more awfuller.
Overall:
It makes me want to watch the series again. Or maybe just read the books . . . on the theory that I mush even more brain cells (ooooohhhh. Mushy brains)
Ah autumn. When all the leaves are falling and trees are endering their undead portion of existance.
This part was delicious:
Probably "brains my only thought" or "munching and crunching like leaves" . . . pretty much the third haiku in the chain was the bit that I appreciated the most . . . not that the rest wasn't horrid as well, but we have to pick favorites . . .
I'd this part:
I'm terribly sorry. I couldn't think of anything to change to make this more awfuller. Maybe change the word beautiful--although even that . . .
How simple and profound, with a lovely use of nature. Most impressive.
This part was delicious:
Probably the last line--it just summed up everything: zombies coloring nature
I'd this part:
I can't imagine you are unaware of the fact that haiku are traditionally 5-7-5; you're consistantly using 7-5-7. But I'm not sure that stretching the form that way is going to be allowed in judging.
Overall:
I was very impressed with the way this flowed, and the way you tied nature with zombies. Now, I'm craving monkey brains.
Probably the fact that the friend who started it all gets sacrificed. I hope I get to eat his brain . . . or, I guess someone else can, as long as his brain is eaten.
I'd this part:
I wouldn't change a thing . . . well, possibly I'd add some paragraphing, but that's just nitpicking.
Overall:
Do they do the zombie dance? Can I play too? I think I like this movie.
I have to admit that when I saw the prompt, my first instinct was to go for fast food vs inexorable zombies . . . but when I started writing it went somewhere else instead. But you really twisted well.
This part was delicious:
Probably the torch lights drawing us in . . . which neatly parallels the traditional torches and pitchforks chasing us. Or maybe the prospect of dining on such athletic-ness.
I'd this part:
It was pretty awful, but I thought that the meter was off, and I couldn't tell whether it was intentionally off or not.
Overall:
It makes me long for London--or maybe just muscles and brains . . . muscular brains . . .
This has got to be one of my favorite books--and your zombie sonnet truly did it justice.
This part was delicious:
My favorite was the end, where you acknowledged that anyone as bloody cool as Ender had to be a zombie too. That is so true.
I'd this part:
There's not much I can see that would make it awfuller, except maybe to make it more close to meter--as it is, this has the syllable count right, but the meter is more a triple beat than an iamb. Or maybe that's just my ears.
Overall:
Your zombie sonnet has made a goopy mush out of my brain . . . goopy mushbrain . . .
This is such a clever plan that I might have to take my little axe and hack a folder for myself. If it weren't for the fact that I am instead of doing my homework, I would do it right now . . . sigh.
This is the perfect trap for bad poets everywhere who just need one little push before their brains turn to potato soup and they join us making zombie poetry . . . ummm, I think I've said too much . . .
This song is so far stuck in my head that I have my little sister and my father singing it with me. My inarticulate moaning is all done with Julie Andrews' voice, which is actually rather disturbing.
This part was delicious:
The sheer awfulness of this poem was spectacular. I especially appreciated the closeness of this parody to the original song. The only time you departed was for the inarticulate moaning in the chorus, which lent the piece even more awefulness than before.
I'd this part:
I almost wish that on the second line of the chorus you had four syllables (like the first line) maybe: when the pods sting--so the lack wouldn't detract from the putridity of the poem. But that's just one opinion.
Overall:
At this rate, we're going to have to have co-prizes for worst, because I don't see how the judges are going to choose from such awfulness.
Happy Feasting,
Rhyssa
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