Melvin-in the-Fridge

I have NEVER critiqued anything in my life, but the more I learn
about my own writing, the more I want to try my hand at it. It's just
one of those things where you don't want to offend anyone, because a
lot of people really can't take criticism, even if it's meant to be
constructive.

So, today I put all my fears aside, and decided to critique a piece I'd
found on one of the many internet sites for writers. I clicked on the
fantasy genre. A myriad of chapters lay before me, all written by the
same author. What was this? A novel? Impressive.

I randomly chose "Chapter 4". Why start at the beginning? The story had
potential. I could see the writer's imagination bursting, like a
newborn chick trying to escape it's egg. Technique was holding this
writer back....in a big way. But I already said he had potential.

Then I started thinking......good for him. He's written more chapters
than I ever have in one go. Who am I to put my two cents worth
in?

But put my two cents worth in I did.

After reading "Chapter 4" more than several times, I thought "this guy
needs me". So I sat down to business and began "Appleblossom's Tutorial
on Wordcraft". I confess, I am no expert, but seriously......my voice
needed to be heard.

So I began...and let me tell you, its not an easy thing to tell a
writer that he (or she) has a great story.....if it could just be
re-written. "Yes, I know it's the baby you've nurtured for countless
hours, weeks, months, years, but circumcision cannot be avoided."; "
Don't think of it as a slaughter, think of it as a sacrifice to the
gods -- the ones who live behind the pearly gates of Bloomsbury."

I was ruthless, yet objective. I ripped his story to shreds and wrote
an essay on all the things he could do to improve his writing style
(the very same things I myself could do to improve my own). Boy, I let
this guy have it. I rearranged his sentences, told him his word
combinations were dull and predictable. I even told him to buy a
thesaurus!!

But through it all, I was the the quintessential professional. I
offered legitimate advice, word options, I rewrote entire paragraphs in
an effort to volunteer fresh ideas. I recommended ways of cutting
through the clutter of words on the page. Anything to be rid of the
adjectives, all linked together like mutated strands of DNA. The memory
still sends chills down my spine.

Finally my masterpiece was complete. My new career had begun. I was a
CRITIC.

The glossy work of destruction shone out at me from my laptop.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall........"

Shaking my head clear of unwanted voices, I hit the "submit" button.
Now there was no going back. And why should I want to? I was proud that
I'd taken the plunge; pleased with this new realm I'd entered. I wasn't
just a "reader" anymore. Or a writer. I had a much more interactive
role. But it was more than that........it was........it was........oh,
I'm so ashamed........ashamed to tell my secret........

IT WAS EXHILARATING!!!

It was like seeing a sunset for the first time (well almost), it was
like finding liberty after years of confinement (well not quite), it
was like.......designer drugs for the reader-slash-writer. It was
addictive. I needed more stories. More. MORE. MORE. Bring them to me.
Anything, I'll read anything. I can help anyone. Listen to what I have
to say. You NEED me. I laughed evilly, as Mistress Heckyll and Bonnie
Clyde fought for domination over my dominion.

And then it happened.

With a simple click of the mouse, my world changed forever.

As I sat there in front of "Chapter 4's" comments box, proudly brimming
with all my new additions, suggestions, recommendations, alterations,
and misrepresentations, I clicked on the author's name.

His desperately made up name.

Melvin-in-the-Fridge.

Blue, and underlined.....a hyperlink.

I thought to read some of his other works. Maybe I could critique
Chapters One, Two and Three.......Five, Six, Seven........

But it wasn't stories I found when I entered the domain of
Melvin-in-the-Fridge. Oh, no. Not a poem, short story, journal entry,
or song lyric could be found. What I found there, was worse, much
worse. I had somehow stumbled upon his user profile. The biographical
component of such websites; the little box that says "a little bit
about me". It began:

"I am a 12 year old boy......"

My new kingdom crumbled to ruins.

Have I now totally destroyed the very soul of a child who is doing what
he loves most in the world? Have I taken the imagination of this
innocent boy, and tarnished it forever? Will he take my words of
constructive criticism to heart? Yes, CONSTRUCTIVE, people!!

Will he ever write again?..... This child who can write a thousand
times better than I could at 12?

The daemon in me was tethered.

And with my tail between my legs........I slithered away.........