Well, ok, at least you're not setting her up to stop traffic.

Looks like I've picked up a second beta reader exchange. Hopefully exchange person one won't go into high gear all of a sudden.

Naturally, I got chapter 1 from beta reader exchange people at once.

Exchange person one decided to restart so what was chapter 3 is now been expanded to become the new chapter 1. At first glance, 3700 words of backstory, mostly narrative. Um...

Exchange person two I'm finding suggestions for, but I think she's a significantly better writer than I am. I just hope I can be helpful.

Okay, I am going to freaking purge myself of this goddamned paragraph on which I've spent the last three hours. Because if I post it here, then it's out there. And once it's out there, I can't take it back, right? Unless y'all tell me it sucks. Because you will, right? Tell me if it sucks?

And quite possibly, I'm insane.

Oy.

Anyhow, fly little paragraph, be free!

He turned into a driveway which angled down into a ravine in such a way that only the roof of the house was visible until the last possible moment. And even then, what appeared before us seemed less house than fantasy. A series of asymmetrical planes and angles, the spans of glass and natural wood planks with mossy green trim gave the overall impression that the building had emerged one segment at a time from the earth on which it sat until nature decreed it done. Behind the house the Pacific stretched to meet the horizon, white-capped waves sweeping in before suddenly disappearing with a crash and hiss, the occasional fine mist springing up over the cliff's edge, sparkling against the burnt orange horizon.

It was a scene out of a fairy tale.

That's a lovely little paragraph setting up all sorts of delights. Except for the first sentence, which seems composed entirely of prepositions.

"The driveway he took angled down a ravine. Only the roof of the house was visible until the last possible moment, and even then," etc.

Or something like. Those preposition thickets are deadly and seem to further ensnare you the harder you try to fight free. Or at least they do me.

They are a pain, aren't they? I'm just having fits because I have this very specific image in my mind, of not just the setting, but the motion as well. And while it's not evident from this passage, it is in first person, so she's describing it as she sees it, from her vantage point as the passenger in a car.

Let me see if I can streamline further.

You know, Bev, I love you. Thank you for making me look at this in a different way.

###

He turned, slowly navigating the steep narrow path through a thickly wooded ravine that despite the well-tended gravel driveway, maintained a sense of undisturbed mystery.

"Jack, you don't think this is some kind of joke, do you?"

"It would hardly be the first time." He slowed further, pulling his sunglasses off in order to better see through the sudden twilight.

No… I did not like the way this felt. My heart raced, my breath catching in rapid shallow gasps at the sensation of forging through darkness with no idea what lay on the other side. My fingernails dug into the edges of the seat as I fought the memories.

And just as I was about to suggest that we leave, that we get out now, rather than continue further into the nerve-wracking darkness, the trees broke into a clearing flooded with light, the path widening into a perfectly oval drive crowned with the most perfect house I had ever seen. Or rather, less house than fantasy. Spans of glass and natural wood planks with mossy green trim giving the overall impression that the building had emerged one segment at a time from the earth on which it sat until nature decreed it done. Behind the house the Pacific stretched in wild, vivid contrast, white-capped waves sweeping in before suddenly disappearing with a crash and hiss, the occasional fine mist springing up over the cliff's edge, sparkling against the burnt orange horizon.

It was a scene out of a fairy tale.

How many times does this asshat have to be sued?

[link]

It just burns me. So many aspiring writers have no idea how the industry works. Even my mom asked me how much I had to pay to get an agent when I first signed on with Agent Kate, and she usually has a pretty good bead on things.

I don't even care that a lot of the authors who send these asses money are shitty writers. They still bled from their foreheads and sunk their hearts into a project and got scammed. I want to punch this dude in the face.

I think you should.

Seriously. I'm two chapters from completion. Agent Kate says it's cool to send to beta, as long as she has it next weekend. My stomach hurts.