Jasmin sent her book manuscript for a review by Friesen Press - a first tentative step towards getting it published. We were all super excited by the positive response she got! Here are a few snippets of the very thoughtful, thorough review:
"Honestly, what impressed me probably the most was how effectively you managed to
consistently maintain what was a very complex narrative perspective throughout. Tackling this
story, most young writers (and many old ones like me if I’m being honest) likely would have just
told it from a first-person perspective. In the story, our entire world is being seen through
Fralith’s eyes, and yet he needs to interact with characters in our world who speak English,
which he doesn’t understand. Establishing the proper balance between his confusion and reader understanding, as well as navigating the switches between the two, showcased incredibly strong writing instincts that I have no doubt will serve you very well in the future. As will the creativity and imagination that is so blatant in your writing. "
consistently maintain what was a very complex narrative perspective throughout. Tackling this
story, most young writers (and many old ones like me if I’m being honest) likely would have just
told it from a first-person perspective. In the story, our entire world is being seen through
Fralith’s eyes, and yet he needs to interact with characters in our world who speak English,
which he doesn’t understand. Establishing the proper balance between his confusion and reader understanding, as well as navigating the switches between the two, showcased incredibly strong writing instincts that I have no doubt will serve you very well in the future. As will the creativity and imagination that is so blatant in your writing. "
"Overall, I have to commend you on what you have created with A Fallen Homekin, which
showcased literary instincts, imagination, and creativity that any writer would be lucky to have
at any stage of their careers. The fact that you have developed them to this extent so early in
your journey speaks very well for your potential future in the industry."
showcased literary instincts, imagination, and creativity that any writer would be lucky to have
at any stage of their careers. The fact that you have developed them to this extent so early in
your journey speaks very well for your potential future in the industry."
"Lastly, I found that the story’s beginning was tremendously powerful, capturing my attention almost instantly, and within the first few pages, I found all my trepidations [of having to review a young writer] falling away, leaving me simply excited to settle in and experience whatever was to come."
And here is a taste of the beginning. Hopefully in the not too distant future, you can be reading the whole thing in book form!
The first thing he saw was the moon. It was huge, like an unblinking eye. And it was foreign.
Fralith shot to his feet with a cry, only to stagger into a tree. A gasp escaped him as the world lurched and spun, the rough bark of the tree scraping his fingers.
He sucked in a breath, but not enough air would come. It was as if the very air was too thin, too stretched apart. Gasping and choking, he strove to meet his body’s demands, his heart racing like a rabbit running from a fox. It slammed against his ribs, little claws scrabbling at his chest.
Not enough! He couldn’t get enough! But he needed it. He needed to breathe. His mouth flopped agape, working open and closed in a soundless scream. The world tipped, and he crashed to his hands and knees, horrible sucking sounds coming from his throat.
Time whisked by like a swift river as he focused all he had to the next great gulp. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Gradually, the rapid thuds of his heart slowed, and air flowed in and out easily.
Fralith blinked hard to clear the blackness in his vision and sat up, wiping his mouth, his head full of fizzles and sparks. Dull pain burned across his face, pounding a rhythm into his cheekbone, making it hard for him to focus his eyes. He rubbed at them and peered around.
Deep shadows clung thickly to the ground, blurring the edges of everything so it looked like one blobby mess. He squinted up through the leaves at the sky. It was a dirty gray, the haze of coming dawn touching its edges. The moon watched him from its perch, seeming farther away than it should be. Emptier. Lonelier.
Ice shivered down his back, and he swallowed, the paws of his heart starting to thud rapidly against his ribs. His senses sharpened, and sound rushed into his ears. Foreign sounds. Sounds not from forest creatures. They filtered through the foliage, filling his head with shrill sand-eating bird calls, monstrous guttural grumbles, head-splitting screeches, and a plethora of unidentifiable noises.
This wasn’t—this wasn’t—this wasn’t home. Home. A lighting bolt struck his chest, drawing a gasp from his lips. He twisted toward the trees, wide eyes raking the dim forest floor. Where was it? Had he closed it? It had to be here; it had to! He scrambled forward, tearing his hands through the grass. The HomeKins had to be here. They had to because—
A thundering roar pierced the murmurs of the strange place, shattering any semblance of calm. A white flash slammed into his senses, and he was running. Dashing. Shooting past dark blurs with splashes of light, straining with all his might to get away. Again. He was running away again. But this time, he wasn’t running away from—from—.
Golden flames flickered across his eyes, illuminating his enraged scowl. “How could you?” the boy yelled, arm lifting the torch, hands shifting, and eyes blazing. Then the torch was flying. Flames sparking, spinning, twisting toward him, the heat roaring, light consuming. His foot landed on rock, jarring his bones and clicking his teeth together. Light exploded around him, and he threw his arm over his eyes, crying out. It shouldn’t be like this! It should be night! Dark!
Slowly, the intensity of the light lessened, and he lowered his arm, blinking. The forest was gone. No more trees. No more grass. No more comforting night shadows. He swallowed, intestines twisting. In its place were houses. Not SecondHomish wood or stone houses, but houses made out of… he didn’t know what. In front of the houses were patches of grass and, beside that, strips of black that led to a wider strip of black with white strips along the middle.
Strange beasts sat on the smaller black strips in front of almost identical-looking houses. Tall, smooth trees stood on the small, hard path he was on, their tops producing blinding, unnatural light.
All the air left his lungs in a tumbling whoosh, taking his strength with it. He sank to the ground, world blurring and ears ringing.
Wherever this was, it was not SecondHome.
Fralith shot to his feet with a cry, only to stagger into a tree. A gasp escaped him as the world lurched and spun, the rough bark of the tree scraping his fingers.
He sucked in a breath, but not enough air would come. It was as if the very air was too thin, too stretched apart. Gasping and choking, he strove to meet his body’s demands, his heart racing like a rabbit running from a fox. It slammed against his ribs, little claws scrabbling at his chest.
Not enough! He couldn’t get enough! But he needed it. He needed to breathe. His mouth flopped agape, working open and closed in a soundless scream. The world tipped, and he crashed to his hands and knees, horrible sucking sounds coming from his throat.
Time whisked by like a swift river as he focused all he had to the next great gulp. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Gradually, the rapid thuds of his heart slowed, and air flowed in and out easily.
Fralith blinked hard to clear the blackness in his vision and sat up, wiping his mouth, his head full of fizzles and sparks. Dull pain burned across his face, pounding a rhythm into his cheekbone, making it hard for him to focus his eyes. He rubbed at them and peered around.
Deep shadows clung thickly to the ground, blurring the edges of everything so it looked like one blobby mess. He squinted up through the leaves at the sky. It was a dirty gray, the haze of coming dawn touching its edges. The moon watched him from its perch, seeming farther away than it should be. Emptier. Lonelier.
Ice shivered down his back, and he swallowed, the paws of his heart starting to thud rapidly against his ribs. His senses sharpened, and sound rushed into his ears. Foreign sounds. Sounds not from forest creatures. They filtered through the foliage, filling his head with shrill sand-eating bird calls, monstrous guttural grumbles, head-splitting screeches, and a plethora of unidentifiable noises.
This wasn’t—this wasn’t—this wasn’t home. Home. A lighting bolt struck his chest, drawing a gasp from his lips. He twisted toward the trees, wide eyes raking the dim forest floor. Where was it? Had he closed it? It had to be here; it had to! He scrambled forward, tearing his hands through the grass. The HomeKins had to be here. They had to because—
A thundering roar pierced the murmurs of the strange place, shattering any semblance of calm. A white flash slammed into his senses, and he was running. Dashing. Shooting past dark blurs with splashes of light, straining with all his might to get away. Again. He was running away again. But this time, he wasn’t running away from—from—.
Golden flames flickered across his eyes, illuminating his enraged scowl. “How could you?” the boy yelled, arm lifting the torch, hands shifting, and eyes blazing. Then the torch was flying. Flames sparking, spinning, twisting toward him, the heat roaring, light consuming. His foot landed on rock, jarring his bones and clicking his teeth together. Light exploded around him, and he threw his arm over his eyes, crying out. It shouldn’t be like this! It should be night! Dark!
Slowly, the intensity of the light lessened, and he lowered his arm, blinking. The forest was gone. No more trees. No more grass. No more comforting night shadows. He swallowed, intestines twisting. In its place were houses. Not SecondHomish wood or stone houses, but houses made out of… he didn’t know what. In front of the houses were patches of grass and, beside that, strips of black that led to a wider strip of black with white strips along the middle.
Strange beasts sat on the smaller black strips in front of almost identical-looking houses. Tall, smooth trees stood on the small, hard path he was on, their tops producing blinding, unnatural light.
All the air left his lungs in a tumbling whoosh, taking his strength with it. He sank to the ground, world blurring and ears ringing.
Wherever this was, it was not SecondHome.