what about the sample from my novel?
It Is Revised
"Your work with theme is exquisite," said the Devil as he placed the penultimate page of God's Manuscript face down on the pile and took the Final Page in his hand. “Truly exquisite.”
God, who had only finished writing minutes before, responded to His old friend without looking up. "Thanks," He said nervously.
The Devil chuckled. "A lot of fresh ideas.”
"Thank you."
God leaned back from his desk, staring at His Work as the Devil thumbed through it. He felt a stab of regret for sharing a work in progress. "I feel like it might be too..."
"Let me finish," interrupted the Devil. The Devil often interrupted God. "Let me finish."
God nodded. He shifted in His seat and moved his gaze to watch the Devil’s every expression. Every wince He saw was catastrophic, every smile victorious. He considered exiting the room to let the Devil read alone, but He couldn't bear to let His Creation out of His Sight.
"Take it easy,” said the Devil, peeking over his glasses with a warm smile. “It’s good.”
God nodded. He took a deep breath and told Himself to relax. This was, after all, a first draft. Nobody expected it to be perfect.
Eventually, the Devil collected the loose pages in his hands, tapping them on the table to even out the stack. Tenderly placing them down, he cocked his head to the left in thought, avoiding the invasive omniscience of God's gaze to consider the comments he was about to make.
After the thick silence, he turned back to God and looked Him in the eye. He nodded with his fullest sincerity. "It's good," he said.
"You think?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. It feels a little... The characters feel a little..." God pressed His crooked forefinger to His pursed mouth. “I don’t know. They’re not dull, but I’m afraid they’re too…”
"I like the characters," said the Devil in low tones, interrupting again.
"I'm afraid they're coming off as too flat. Too simple."
The Devil considered this for a moment, his impulse was to feign surprise but he knew the gesture was vain. He chuckled at himself for this and immediately regretted it. He knew how self-conscious God could get about his Writing. The Devil looked back down at the Manuscript and scanned through some of the earlier Pages to remind himself what had happened. "Yeah. I see what you mean. A bit one-dimensional. Okay. Sure. Maybe. Give me a second."
Another long moment had passed. “An eternity,” joked God to Himself. He purposely looked away. God had worked out this Book with so much care, thought about it with all His depth and energy, that nobody could ever know it like He did. Consequently, He loved every Moment, every Word, every Creak and Cranny. He had been obsessing over It for so long that He loved His Work beyond expression. "Relax," He whispered to himself, inaudible to the Devil, "Not everyone loves It the way I do. Let someone else experience It and see what happens."
The Devil looked up. He took off his glasses. "I see what you mean. It basically lacks conflict."
"Exactly!" said God, relieved.
“Take this garden scene. Lots of dialogue. Tons of exposition. Absolutely no action. Nobody wants anything. Everybody just sort of gets along.”
“But nothing in any of them would motivate another to fight. I can’t conceive it.”
"Hm," agreed the Devil. He took a deep breath. "Listen, do you mind if I..."
"Please do," interrupted God, gesturing toward His Manuscript with both hands. God often interrupted the Devil. "I'm too close to it to make some of the revisions that I fear may be necessary.”
And with that, the Devil took out his pen and began marking the Book in red.
"Your work with theme is exquisite," said the Devil as he placed the penultimate page of God's Manuscript face down on the pile and took the Final Page in his hand. “Truly exquisite.”
God, who had only finished writing minutes before, responded to His old friend without looking up. "Thanks," He said nervously.
The Devil chuckled. "A lot of fresh ideas.”
"Thank you."
God leaned back from his desk, staring at His Work as the Devil thumbed through it. He felt a stab of regret for sharing a work in progress. "I feel like it might be too..."
"Let me finish," interrupted the Devil. The Devil often interrupted God. "Let me finish."
God nodded. He shifted in His seat and moved his gaze to watch the Devil’s every expression. Every wince He saw was catastrophic, every smile victorious. He considered exiting the room to let the Devil read alone, but He couldn't bear to let His Creation out of His Sight.
"Take it easy,” said the Devil, peeking over his glasses with a warm smile. “It’s good.”
God nodded. He took a deep breath and told Himself to relax. This was, after all, a first draft. Nobody expected it to be perfect.
Eventually, the Devil collected the loose pages in his hands, tapping them on the table to even out the stack. Tenderly placing them down, he cocked his head to the left in thought, avoiding the invasive omniscience of God's gaze to consider the comments he was about to make.
After the thick silence, he turned back to God and looked Him in the eye. He nodded with his fullest sincerity. "It's good," he said.
"You think?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know. It feels a little... The characters feel a little..." God pressed His crooked forefinger to His pursed mouth. “I don’t know. They’re not dull, but I’m afraid they’re too…”
"I like the characters," said the Devil in low tones, interrupting again.
"I'm afraid they're coming off as too flat. Too simple."
The Devil considered this for a moment, his impulse was to feign surprise but he knew the gesture was vain. He chuckled at himself for this and immediately regretted it. He knew how self-conscious God could get about his Writing. The Devil looked back down at the Manuscript and scanned through some of the earlier Pages to remind himself what had happened. "Yeah. I see what you mean. A bit one-dimensional. Okay. Sure. Maybe. Give me a second."
Another long moment had passed. “An eternity,” joked God to Himself. He purposely looked away. God had worked out this Book with so much care, thought about it with all His depth and energy, that nobody could ever know it like He did. Consequently, He loved every Moment, every Word, every Creak and Cranny. He had been obsessing over It for so long that He loved His Work beyond expression. "Relax," He whispered to himself, inaudible to the Devil, "Not everyone loves It the way I do. Let someone else experience It and see what happens."
The Devil looked up. He took off his glasses. "I see what you mean. It basically lacks conflict."
"Exactly!" said God, relieved.
“Take this garden scene. Lots of dialogue. Tons of exposition. Absolutely no action. Nobody wants anything. Everybody just sort of gets along.”
“But nothing in any of them would motivate another to fight. I can’t conceive it.”
"Hm," agreed the Devil. He took a deep breath. "Listen, do you mind if I..."
"Please do," interrupted God, gesturing toward His Manuscript with both hands. God often interrupted the Devil. "I'm too close to it to make some of the revisions that I fear may be necessary.”
And with that, the Devil took out his pen and began marking the Book in red.