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 . . .
Ah. The ultimate question. And alas, without a true answer, as we zombies are not known for our acceptence of renewable resource management.
This part was delicious:
Probably the vocabulary you used . . . such big and richly connatative words.
I'd this part:
This poem felt very cerebral--which isn't necessarily a bad thing, it just struck me the only way to make this more awfuller would be to add concrete images, but I think it would possibly ruin the awfulness of the poem . . . sigh.
Overall:
I used this question in my poem (on my way to a bigger fear), but you really made it your own.
What a dreadful example of a villanelle--the repitition just added a layer of dread that was simply awful.
This part was delicious:
Probably the dancing rhythm that I heard in my head or perhaps the way you messed with the rhyme scheme while keeping the repitition that is so difficult to do. Or maybe the limbs and maggots. And the rotton fruit.
I'd this part:
I can't think of anything that I would want to make this more horrible--maybe there are a few places, especially in the longer lines, when it feels a bit off rhythm, which I'm assuming is intentional, so even that . . .
Overall:
I would jump, but my leg just fell off to the right.
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 inspirational--my brain is mushier just thinking about this haiku cycle.
This part was delicious:
Proabably the images--particularly the worm thing. There's something fundementally awful about worms, especially when paired with noses.
I'd this part:
I can't think of anything that I could do to make this more awfuller.
Overall:
There's something so--precious--about undead birth. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, or maybe that is because my brain puts off heat as it melts . . .
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.
What a cleverly awful way of combining nature and zombies. After all, zombies must be forever . . .
This part was delicious:
Probably the part when the tree wilts, or maybe the bit about "a brain a day" althought I have to admit, I tend to be more greedy/hungry than that. And the last verse was beautifully awful.
I'd this part:
Maybe I'd be careful with using articles and prepositions in the poem, because they're weak syllables. Then again, I don't play with haiku very often, so take it as you will.
Overall:
Wasn't this a beautiful beginning to our month of zombie dreck? I can't wait for the next round.
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 . . .
Such brevity. Such a simple statement of the zombie condition. I'm impressed by the elegant awfullness of your poetry.
This part was delicious:
Probably the succulant flesh, or maybe the burning desire. Such anciently descriptive language is given new life in context.
I'd this part:
Maybe the bit about instense fear, because all the rest are the zombie actions/descriptors, and this line goes back to human origins. But I don't know . . .
The sheer and awful genius of this poem is the way the name of the restaurant could also mean the zombie's friends and soon to be either lunch or eternal amigos.
This part was delicious:
The smell and the way the zonbie called out for fooood! (Or maybe someone else was calling and he would find some friends already zombiefied at the restaurant)
I'd this part:
The length. It was too short. sigh. But seriously, I wished I could have dwelt in this awfulness for twice eight lines.
Another minor thing: I stumbled because the very last line used "is" instead of past tense like you'd been using for the rest of the poem. It would have fried my brain much easilier if that shift hadn't tripped me up.
Overall:
I bow to the sheer awfullness that is your poetry. If I read any more, (without a pause for my eyeballs to regenerate) I may be useless mush by the time the contest actually starts.
I love fairy tales--and the wonderful thing is that the addition of zombies doesn't change the basic good vs evil structure. I hope the zombies ate the evil queen's brains after Snow White got her poison treat.
This part was delicious:
The fairytale ness of it all. Did I mention how much I love fairy tales? I want a prince who doesn't mind zombie lips to kiss me all and then I could bite him, and we could write zombie poetry for eternity. . . umm, never mind.
I'd this part:
I'm not sure (because I don't really spell that well) but I think it's cemetery. Other than that, I can't think of a way to make it awfuller.
What marvelous, yet awful, simplicity. And the way you brought in the entire novel in seventeen syllables . . .
This part was delicious:
I found it impossible to pick out any part of this poem to claim as especially delicious to me. If I had to pick a word, it would probably be "infestation" which, with its connotations of disease and its four long syllables seemed especially awful in this masterpiece of bad poetry
I'd this part:
I don't think I could do anything to make this poem awfuller. All that's left is to use the axe on some heads and serve the brains . . .
Overall:
You've really entered into the spirit of this contest.
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 . . .
Happy Feasting
Rhyssa
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/reviews/sadilou
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.97 seconds at 12:07pm on May 31, 2023 via server web1.