[stylist] creative non-fiction "Snapshot" no language, no adult content

[Chris Kuell]

Hi Bridgit,

I enjoyed your piece very much. You do a nice job of conveying emotion along 
with your memories invoked by looking over the photographs. You write very 
visually here, and you may want to put in a few more other-sensory details. 
Does the basement smell musty? Like an old tin can? How about sound--is 
there a clock ticking on a bureau? Water in the pipes from someone upstairs 
taking a shower? Is she cold, or hot? Next, I would caution about using too 
many details, especially at the beginning of the piece. Don't worry--I 
understand exactly what you are doing, painting a picture, so to speak, to 
put us, the reader, there. But too many details make the reader pay 
attention to your words, to your writing, rather than getting absorbed right 
into your piece and then losing track of time as they read.

Now I'm going to put on my editor's hat and insert a few comments into your 
text. Use them or dismiss them, as you see fit. Good luck with your 
workshop.

chris


Snapshot

Reaching the bottom steps of the basement, (some editors would be put off by 
starting with Reaching (a present participle?) so perhaps you might start 
simply with--At the end of the stairs in the basement...) an observer would 
notice the following scene:  A naked lightbulb emanates a harsh yellow 
brilliance stifled by the dark(,) windowless, cinder-block walls and 
open-rafter ceiling.  The grey painted floor resembles hard, cold stone. 
Separating the basement from the large family-room-sized space, should be a 
plaster wall, but now just the wall studs remain(,) leaving a clear view 
into the large room converted into a bedroom.  A skinny, blonde, young 
woman, Bridgit, sits in the middle of the room surrounded by scattered piles 
of photographs.  Leaning against the wrought iron footboard of her bed, she 
studies a picture.  With knees drawn up against her slender body, she stares 
at the image of a young woman.  The small window above the bed shoots 
sunlight like a spotlight onto the section of floor the young woman sits 
upon.  Bits of light reflect off the pictures littering the beige carpet 
around the young woman.(you use 'young' 4 times relatively quickly here, 
which needs to be revised. In addition, in your first sentence you told us 
the basement was windowless, which is inconsistant)
The pictures relay a moment modern technology has frozen in time.(I'd delete 
modern technology. Firstly, photography has been around for 150 years, and 
although it's changed, everyone knows what it is. Plus, this is one of those 
instances where the extra words pull the reader back from the story and make 
us pay attention to your words, to your writing, which isn't what you want) 
A small-town family wedding snapped for the centuries.  Bridgit is 
twenty-one in the pictures.  A single year ago.  She remembers the day, she 
remembers the feelings.  Happiness that weddings evoke, but sadness that the 
occasion is not her own to celebrate.  Joy to see relatives gone for too 
long, but restlessness to explore the world too.(you use forms of 'to' 3 
times in this sentence, I'd say the last one is the most out of place. 
Consider something like - Joy to catch-up with little seen 
relatives,accompanied by a restlessness to explore more of the world...) 
It was a third cousin’s wedding, but the whole clan showed up to celebrate 
the nuptials.  A panoramic shot included a large portion of family members 
gathered at a long table enjoying the home-cooked meal of chicken-fried 
chicken (While I live in New England, and I've had chicken-fried-steak, 
isn't chicken-fried-chicken just fried chicken?) and gravy with mashed 
potatoes and green bean casserole topped with real onion-rings.  Bridgit 
smiled demurely, picking at the food before her, while Uncle Lance, to her 
right, intently shoveled mashed potatoes in his mouth, and Tami, her mother, 
held a bit of chicken mid-air with her fork, talking, most likely saying 
how, “Fried-chicken is not a very elegant choice for a wedding, but I guess 
that is what you are use to in small towns.”  Another picture displays 
Bridgit in her black dress with a deep V in front(,) exposing a boney, but 
well tanned chest.  Bronzed arms connected with another’s, she stood next to 
her fourteen-year-old cousin, Colin, already taller than her.  Her blue eyes 
gazed into the camera as she flashed her one-dimpled smile.  The focus of 
the next photo captured the wedding party and guest doing the Bunnyhop. 
Clustered of to the right, Uncle Doug and Aunt Becky grill her about 
college.  She smiled quietly as, “What are you studying?”  “Still music?” 
and what are your plans after graduation?” were fired at her.  Years of 
dance training and etiquette school have (had?) taught her to stand erect 
with head held high.  With her confident demeanor and three-inch heels, she 
appeared taller than her average five-foot height.(average seems wrong here. 
I believe the average American woman is 5 foot 4, so perhaps you mean 
normal?)   Later in the evening, the camera snapped Bridgit laughing wildly 
as Uncle Brent whipped her across the dance floor like Ginger Rogers. 
Another moment captured Bridgit and Uncle Brent posing for the camera as he 
dipped her low.  Another shot has Bridgit kicking her black strappy heels 
off as she prepared for a new round of dancing.  Each photograph is handled 
with care and placed in a tree(,) creating a timeline beginning with a 
picture of Bridgit’s immediate family dressed in their wedding attire posing 
for the first time in years, to a snapshot of straggling dancers waltzing to 
the final song of the night, “I Will Always Love You.”  Each picture 
displays a happy, smiling young woman, but one single shot captured the 
truth.  One solitary picture alone shows her with the mask off.  It is the 
photo she now sits and studies intently.
Staring at the picture of herself, her expression is quizzical and worn. 
Her gaze is intent as though she will discover some truth about herself. (I 
really like this) A rare moment exposed displaying a part never meant for 
public consumption, yet here it is for all to see.  She cradles the picture 
in her thin hands as if breaking it will destroy some part of her.  The 
camera revealed Bridgit resting her head on a propped arm.  Escaped tendrils 
of hair framed her tanned face, and her blue, almond-shaped eyes looked off 
into the distance.  Her expression contained longing, dreams and hopes 
unrealized, mingled with restlessness and deep sadness.  Sitting alone, 
tucked away in a corner of the reception hall, she believed herself 
unnoticed, but the camera caught her.  An X-ray imprinting her soul lay 
(laid?) bare.(another great line)  Always so careful to wear her mask.(You 
have already used the mask  simile, and it's kind of cliche, so perhaps you 
can find something different)   Never letting her guard down, only to be 
trapped by a modern marvel(not so modern--perhaps simply camera, or digital 
timestopper?) .
Placing this final picture in its proper spot in the visual timeline, 
Bridgit looks around the room.  A blue “Happy-birthday” balloon hangs 
deflated on the wall surrounded by pictures from high school and college. 
Bridgit, Tera and Jessica smiled in their red-and-white cheerleading 
uniforms.  Bridgit standing at the grand piano in the choir room, mouth 
opened as she belted “On My Own” from Les Miserables (I love that song, 
although Empty Chairs and Empty Tables was probably my favorite) .  Bridgit 
engulfed by Ryan, her boyfriend, the boy she thought she would marry. 
Bridgit and Tera, arms clasped around each other’s shoulders, grinning on 
graduation day.  Bridgit sitting on Joe’s knee during a cast party for 
Cinderella.  A letter pokes out from behind the balloon, a love letter sent 
by a friend who never forgot her, but that Bridgit could not muster the 
necessary feelings for.  (The letter is- consider deleting this, as the new 
sentence will have more impact)  a reminder that some one in the world 
thinks she is special.  A poster hangs on the opposite wall displaying Kate 
and Leo at the bow of a ship, and next to this stands a tall bookshelf lined 
with books from Little Women to I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.  Across the 
room a butter-colored dresser-drawer reflects her image in its large mirror 
framed by carved flowers.  Quickly adverting her eyes, she takes in the 
glass bottle of Miracle perfume and the organized assortment of make-up 
compacts and brushes.  A Shabby-chic-style jewelry box is arranged on a 
corner of the dresser top, and necklaces hang on a pink heart-shape with 
tiny hooks protruding from the lace-overlay front.  The open closet reveals 
clothes hanging from shortest sleeve length to longest (as well as being- 
consider replaceing with 'all')  color coordinated.  Directly to the left of 
the entrance into her room, sits the thirty-two-inch TV purchased by Ryan, 
the ex, disguised as a Christmas present, (but- consider replacing with 
'selfishly)  intended for the use of video games.  Taking in years of 
memories and keepsakes, Bridgit finally turns back to the reflection in the 
mirror.  Her blonde hair is pulled back in a long, wispy ponytail, an 
attempt to hide the sections of hair that have fallen out with portions of 
scalp still attached.  Head settled on boney knees, she wonders at her 
compactness.  Chest, stomach and waist are hidden behind skinny legs, and 
rail-thin arms wrap around just beneath the pale, gaunt face.  Her eyes 
(haunt her as they- consider deleting)  hold (the- if you delete the first 
section, you should also delete this)  longing and sadness grown deeper by 
another year.