Feedbag Thread For Indie Writers of Original Fictions [Open]

JayMark

It's Not Easy Being Nobody, But Somebody Has To.
Joined
Jul 31, 2024
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I need to read more. So I am offering my worthless services for writers of original fiction. 🐂

What I'm Offering: I will give my general impression of your first three chapters or 10k words, whichever comes first. It's going to be a dry, bullish, assesment of one failed writer's thoughts on your work. I'm generally not as mean as I look, but I'm not going to sugar coat anything. I'm not good with synopsis making, so I will not rate your synopsis. I'm not going to nitpick typos, too much. All feedbag material will remain contained to this thread. 🐂

I will give feedbag for any work on Scribblehub, except for the four horsemen of the Scriblepocalypse:

1. Translations :blob_thor:
2. Fanfictions :blob_thor:
3. Obvious LLM output :blob_thor:
4. Smut :blob_thor:

But why won't you review these you stupid nobody? :mad_s:😭😭😭💢💢💢 - I do what I want. Did you even read the title? 🐂

1. They are against the rules here. Why would I give feedbag to you for something someone else wrote? However, I will read translations of your own original work. 🐂

2. Another short cut to readership. But I don't like reading fanfiction. You guys are giving your talent and hard work to someone else's IP for a bit of attention and fame, or to scratch an itch for whatever IP you're way too serious about. I'd rather you just be inspired by something to write a creative successor, but that's just me. And that's hard work when the readers will crawl through broken glass for name recognition and the characters and world are handed to you. Nor do you have to deal with idiots comparing your original characters and worlds to someone elses IP to make you look bad. The only thing you can't do is legally monetize. Regardless, you guys have built in fan bases and don't need my help. 🐂

3. LLM stuff may get past me. Sometimes I don't recognize it at all, so if you get it past me, good on ya I suppose. 🐂
This is based on the honor system. I'm asking you politely not to give me LLM products. 🐂
If I strongly suspect your work to be LLM, I will cancel the review and let you know that I think it is too LLM for me. 🐂

4. I may give in and write smut to try for money someday, but I don't want to read it. It's another shortcut to readership imo, we all know it, so smut writers don't need feedback from me. I want to help those who are struggling to produce originals for more general audiences. 🐂


I'm going to read and analyze the first three chapters/10k words and give a general assesment on flow, prose, theme, and plot. 🐂
I'll rate aspects of your work that stand out however I please. 🐂
I may take some excerpts and edit them with added notes for your review. 🐂
I'm moody. 🐂
I may be in a pissy mood and full of sarcastic humor. 🐂
I may be jealous of your success and thus full of dark sarcastic humor but I'll try to remain honest. 🐂
If the title bar says closed, I do not have the bandwidth to do further reviews. 🐂


By asking for feedback, you consent to these activities and agree to be a mature adult and not seek retribution for my thoughts.
 

Daemeay

New member
Joined
Mar 23, 2026
Messages
4
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3
I do consent to these activities and agree to be a mature adult and not seek retribution for your thoughts haha !
It's a translation of my own work (in French, so I use the french standard for dialogue which I'll soon correct as it doesn't seem to be pleasing to english readers). It's still new and just started so you don't have to read a lot haha ! Hope you'll like it :
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I didn't publish yet the third chapter and I want to keep up with my schedule to be very regular, so here is the chapter 2 (ofc, if you accept haha) :

In her room, Serina was finishing packing her bags with Helen, her aunt. She didn’t often get the chance to bring out her two large suitcases. She was excited, as if she were going on a trip.

“Are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything on the list?” Helen asked.
“No, I have all the books they asked for,” Serina replied enthusiastically, pointing to them on her bed. ”

Helen added the books to the suitcase, intrigued.

“Why do they ask you to buy the books if they give you a card to do so? They could deliver them directly to campus or send them by email…
“We already have homework, that’s why! And they prefer physical books. We’re only asked to buy the ones we need to study in advance. Apparently, it’s to speed things up.”

Helen raised an eyebrow.

“Already? Are they going to make you cover the entire high school curriculum in one year or something? Did you have any trouble finishing them? We could have helped you.“
”No, I wanted to do it on my own. It was really interesting, especially the theoretical part. I loved it so much."
“A real bookworm,” Helen replied, amused. “Are you going to wear a uniform?”
"Yes, it’s mandatory. The driver will be here in an hour to pick me up, so at least that won’t be a bother," she said, touching the golden scarf around her neck.

She still couldn’t believe all this was happening to her. She’d been able to buy her own school supplies with the card provided by the school (in her name!) and now a driver was coming to pick her up right at home. All without costing her family a penny. And if all it took was good grades… then she’d do everything she could to keep it up. She had gotten to work the very next day after the big news. Every day of the vacation, she had reread, rephrased, and delved deeper. The first questions had thrown her off balance.

Is light a wave or a particle?
What distinguishes a living being from an inanimate object?
Are some infinities larger than others?


At first, the concepts seemed vague to her, almost insurmountable. But through extensive research in the books assigned by the school, she had eventually come to understand… and love these questions. She had even begun to go beyond the expected answers, simply out of curiosity. The various theories, the debates, the contradictions between scientific approaches… it all fascinated her.

As she walked down the stairs with her suitcases, she paused for a moment in front of the large mirror in the entryway. She hadn’t taken the time to look at herself in the uniform until that moment: a white shirt fastened with gold cufflinks, and a black skirt, simple and straight, that fell to her knees. Around her neck she wore the same golden scarf as the man who had come to deliver the news.

But what struck her most was the open crimson gown she wore over it, made of a flowing, silky fabric that reached down to her heels. The material, no doubt imported from Talria, had a subtle sheen, reflecting the light without ever dazzling. On her chest, on the right side, was the school’s coat of arms: a golden tree, whose exposed roots rose to form a perfect circle of branches and leaves. On either side, two laurel branches framed the silhouette. The very symbol of excellence, as her uncle had said, and today, she was part of it. She straightened her back slightly, to stand tall.

She had lied to her aunt: it wasn’t mandatory to arrive at school in uniform, but she was so eager to wear it, and above all, to show them, that she hadn’t been able to come up with any other excuses. She didn’t want to seem vain, but she wanted them to see her in it. She wanted them to know how hard she had worked. She wanted them to be proud.

A whistle snapped her out of her reverie.

“Nice uniform! Will you send us photos from there?” asked Jaren.
“Cell phones are banned there. No computers either. Not even Wi-Fi, for that matter!” Serina realized out loud.
“Seriously?! How are you going to manage? How are we going to write to you?” Anwyn asked in surprise.
“Kids, paper and pen still exist,” her uncle interjected. “But that’s odd… Do you know why?”
Serina shrugged.

“They say that electromagnetic waves are bad for children’s development, and that learning should take place without new technologies…”

Her uncle and aunt frowned, but said nothing. They had grown up in a world of technology, and this explanation seemed far-fetched to them, almost archaic. But it wasn’t up to them to rewrite the school rules, so they simply admired Serina, moved.

“You look pretty. That hairstyle suits you very well,” Helen complimented her.
“Thank you!”

She had made an effort. Her hair, curly and often unruly, required a lot of maintenance. But she had taken the time to style it the day before, and again this morning, to ensure she’d have beautiful, well-defined curls today. Her black hair fell over her shoulders in neat waves, contrasting beautifully and softly with her tanned skin. Her eyes, dark and intense, seemed to be made of the same ink as her hair.

She was enjoying the last moments with her whole family when the doorbell rang. The sound, though expected, almost made her jump. She glanced at the clock and raised her eyebrows at the driver’s punctuality. The letter said 9:23 a.m., but she hadn’t expected him to arrive to the second. It was almost military.

She took a deep breath. The time had come.

After one last hug with each of them, Helen, who held her tighter than she ever had before; her uncle, whose hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment; Anwyn, who was in tears and to whom she promised to write; and Jaren, who pretended to stay cool despite his shining eyes, Serina left the house, pulling her wheeled suitcase behind her.

Parked in front of the door, the car waiting for her was different from the one that had come when the announcement was made. Less vintage in design, it was tinted a deep purple. The golden emblem of the Eryndor coat of arms sat proudly on the hood, shining in the sun like a silent statement. This car did not go unnoticed. In their modest neighborhood, it clashed with the surroundings. Serina had the impression that was the point.

The driver, in a dark, immaculate uniform, stepped out of the car to take her bags and place them in the trunk. She wanted to help him, but he politely declined with a wave of his hand. She nodded in understanding and opened the door, giving a final wave to her family, who were watching her leave from the doorway.

She was struck by the smell of leather as she settled into the back seat, and by the immaculate cleanliness of the interior. Unlike the exterior, the interior was understated, spacious, elegantly black, and very comfortable. The leather beneath her hand felt genuine. She would almost have felt guilty sitting on the seat if she hadn’t been wearing her uniform.

The ride to the capital was silent, the driver focused on the road. The trip was much faster than she had imagined: barely an hour and a half instead of the expected six hours. It was her first time traveling through the high-speed tunnels, and she was amazed to see the lights flash by so quickly that they formed a continuous ribbon of light. The spectacle had something unreal about it, as if she were already gliding toward another world.

As she approached the school, her nervousness grew: what if she wasn’t up to the task? Or what if she didn’t make any friends? She had done everything to be ready, and she had already prepared hundreds of conversation topics in her head so she wouldn’t run out of things to say. But a knot was starting to form in her stomach.

She took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out, eyes closed. She heard the driver take out her suitcases and set them down beside her before starting the car again.

Throughout the entire ride, she had imagined a large, imposing building, purple and gold, with no technology on the outside or inside. Surely a structure dating back to before the Dark Period! When she opened her eyes, she realized she had been wrong.

At the entrance, security guards were screening the students. Beside them, machines for biometric identification and scanners were running the suitcases along tracks. The older students seemed to retrieve their suitcases immediately after passing through the entrance, but the younger ones left them with staff who collected them for them. No building was visible; it was certainly located further away.

“Every year you try, and every year you fail. Cell phones and computers are prohibited,” a security guard reminded a visibly carefree student in an annoyed tone as his devices were tossed into a trash can.

Serina moved forward in the line, and once she reached the metal detectors, she placed her suitcases on the conveyor belt and presented her biometric card. The officer scanned it, and Serina saw her name and face appear on a screen. After a brief check, he returned her card.

“First-years must take the door on the left once you’ve passed through the entrance. Leave your suitcases here; someone will take them to your room. Next!”

Serina nodded and finally stepped through the entrance. She stopped dead in her tracks, stunned: a massive building had just materialized before her eyes. She had been right about one thing: it was indeed an imposing structure, which seemed to date back at least to the Pact of Veyria. How had she failed to see it from the outside? She tried an experiment and took a step back. She stared in disbelief as the building vanished. One step forward, and it reappeared. Did magic exist?

“It’s just an optical dome. Haven’t you ever seen one before?” asked a voice behind her.

Serina startled and turned around. A young blonde girl her age was smiling at her with amusement.

“No, first time,” Serina admitted. “What is it?"
"I’m not really sure. It makes buildings invisible. Eryndor invented it, and they first tested it on the school. It’s been here ever since."
"Eryndor invents stuff? Isn’t it just a school?"
"Well, no, it’s Eryndor! My dad always says it’s the global hub of innovation, and the pride of Elystria."

Serina furrowed her brows. Eryndor wasn’t just a school, but also a scientific laboratory, apparently. And some students had known about it for a long time, whereas in Thalysera, her hometown, her name in gold had seemed like an anomaly to many.

“What’s your name? My name is Lyne. Lyne Da Vyolia.“
”Serina Willhelm. Da Vyolia? I’ve heard that before…“
”My father is the Minister of Education. It’d be a disgrace if his daughter wasn’t at Eryndor, wouldn’t it?“
Serina laughed softly.
”Willhelm… I’ve never seen you before. Aren’t you from Solyandra?“
”No, I’m not from the capital. I’m from Thalysera."
“I don’t know it—where is that?”
"In the south.”

Lyne nodded, seeming to understand something that escaped Serina. Lyne looked her up and down, then from down to up.

“You come from a disadvantaged background, don’t you?”
“Not disadvantaged, but we’re not exactly rich,” Serina frowned.
"Your uniform is clearly off-the-rack, not custom-made, and the fabric of your shirt is low-end.” Her gaze drifted to the gold scarf and her dress. “And besides, the fact that you’re already wearing it shows you’re very proud to have been accepted. Here, no one would do that. It’s tacky. How did you manage to get into Eryndor?"
"I worked for it,” Serina replied, visibly offended.
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Lyne sighed. “Here, almost everyone knows each other. You might end up feeling a little left out, so I’d rather warn you. ”

She’d thought she was doing the right thing by putting on the uniform on the very first day… but around her, the other students were wearing what looked like different uniforms. Had the letter forgotten to mention buying another uniform for the start of the school year? Lyne seemed to understand what she was thinking because she answered her, while rummaging through her backpack.

“This is our Scolia uniform."
"You had a uniform in Scolia?"
"I don’t know how it works where you’re from, but here, the Scolia make us wear uniforms, and we honor our first school by wearing it on the first day in Eryndor. It’s a tradition.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and her fingers instinctively clutched the golden scarf, as if to hide what was wrong. Serina felt as though she were in a world that wasn’t her own, and she already sensed herself standing apart from the others. She was about to take off her dress to put it in her bag when she noticed that Lyne was putting hers on while winking at her.

“You don’t know anyone yet; I’m not going to leave you alone like this! Shall we go? I have to meet up with my friends.”

Serina gave a relieved smile. Lyne seemed tough at first glance, but she had just reached out to her. Together, they entered through the left door and walked down a long corridor whose walls were covered with frescoes depicting their history.

Serina slowed her pace, fascinated. The frescoes depicted the Dark Age, the wars of the three powers: Elystria in blue, Tyrgan in red, Luserne in yellow—the predominant colors of their respective flags. Then came the invention of the famous weapon by Elystria that nearly brought about the destruction of the world, the Treaty of Veyria that brought the war to an end, and finally a concluding fresco where the three nations, united, complemented one another: Tyrgan represented by its soldiers, Elystria by its scholars, Luserne by its merchants.

She reached out to touch the rough rock of the fresco with her finger. At least she knew their history well.

“Shall we go in? They’ll start soon; you can see the frescoes later,” Lyne reminded her.
“Yeah, you’re right!”

They entered an amphitheater. Lyne immediately spotted her group of friends and led Serina over to them. They had barely sat down when the room went dark. A slender figure stepped onto the stage, took the microphone, and silence fell. On the screen, the figure’s face appeared along with his name and title: Mr. Sinyod Da Pyttrya, the school’s director. He began his speech in a deep, solemn voice.

“Welcome to Eryndor. By walking through these doors today, you have accomplished what many dream of but few achieve. You are now among the elite, those who already carry within them the promise of the future. Elystria is known throughout the world for the power of its science, the depth of its philosophy, and the beauty of its art. This is the mission entrusted to us by the Pact of Veyria: to advance the mind, to advance all of humanity through our knowledge. And all of this is made possible by the achievements of the men and women trained here, at Eryndor. It is within these walls that, generation after generation, the Elystrian elite is forged. And now, it is your turn.
“You will be taught by our brightest scientists, our greatest thinkers, our most talented creators. You will learn from those who shaped Elystria yesterday, so that tomorrow, it will be you who help it grow. It will be you who will develop new ideas, who will shape the future. The future of Elystria rests on your shoulders.
“But do not forget: here, nothing will be handed to you; everything must be earned. Being the best is not a privilege; it is a responsibility. Excellence is a requirement. Here at Eryndor, we don’t expect from you what other schools demand of their students. We go far beyond that. Where elsewhere it takes three years to complete a cycle, we require you to do it in a single year. Why? Because we know you’re capable of it. Because we refuse to limit you. Because Eryndor doesn’t just train students: we shape pioneers.”

Serina recalled her aunt’s remark from that very morning, but she didn’t laugh. She felt a weight settling on her shoulders. Would she be able to do it? Was she as prepared as others to enter Eryndor?

“These years will be tough,” the headmaster continued relentlessly. “You will be pushed to your limits. You will doubt yourselves, you will fail at times, and you will feel that the task is too great. But know this: we believe in you more than you dare to believe in yourselves. You will discover unexpected resources within yourselves, and it is through this effort, through these demands, that your greatness will be born.
“Always remember: Eryndor is not a place like any other. It is here that the ideas that transform the world are born. It is here that the strength and glory of Elystria are passed on. And soon, this mission will be yours. Work hard, persevere, and surpass yourselves. For it is within you that the future lies. Welcome to Eryndor.”

Serina politely applauded the headmaster’s speech, but noticed that most had stood up to applaud fervently. She followed their lead, refusing to remain on the sidelines.

If she had been selected, she was also part of the elite, just as the headmaster had said. She was just as deserving as they were, and she would prove it. And that was true even though her uniform wasn’t tailor-made and she was still unfamiliar with their traditions. Academically, she was their equal, and she would show that she could do even better.

The director left the stage, making way for a woman who was shorter and more plump. She took the microphone and began speaking even before her information appeared on the screen.

“Hello. I am Ms. Gillotard, vice principal of Eryndor. As the principal so aptly pointed out, here at Eryndor, we educate the elite, and to that end, we have a specific methodology. You will notice that the number of students varies each year, as we admit only as many students as needed to form classes of ten. At Eryndor, we believe in personalized support for each of you to ensure the best possible development, with a homeroom teacher assigned to each class. We also believe that students develop best through autonomy. That is why each class will have a class leader, who will be responsible for managing internal conflicts as well as ensuring the smooth operation of their class. This leader must set an example to follow and must do their best to maintain their role. In the first year, the school is responsible for appointing these leaders, and since we believe in impartiality, we select as many leaders as there were students who achieved perfect scores on the exams. This year, we had eleven students with perfect scores, so eleven class leaders, whom I will now announce. I ask each leader to stand when their name is called and come up to the stage. I’ll begin: Kaelen Drosvick… Mireya Soltrent… Ophir Nadrel…”

Serina clapped politely, like the others, for each leader who came up to the stage. The vice principal seemed especially eager to wrap up the ceremony. Perhaps she wanted to stick to the lunch schedule? The contrast with the principal was striking: he had been natural and charismatic; she seemed rushed. The young girl paid little attention to the names being called until she heard her own, and was taken aback:

“And finally, Serina Willhelm. Please stand up and come to the stage, if you would.”

On the day her admission was announced, she had been told she’d received perfect scores, but she’d thought that was an exaggeration. Her mouth fell open, while Lyne abruptly turned her head toward her, clearly surprised as well. Her group of friends realized it was indeed her: many raised their eyebrows, not expecting this revelation.

Lyne gave her a gentle nudge on the shoulder, reminding her that she had to go up on stage. Serina stood up and walked forward mechanically, still reeling from the announcement. Once on stage, she glanced at the other captains and noticed there were only two different uniforms. She was the outsider, and their haughty stares made it clear she wasn’t welcome among them. She didn’t respond and stood beside them, head held high, preferring to show pride rather than her own uncertainty.

She didn’t notice that behind her, the slide had changed and the class lists were now displayed, until the vice principal pointed it out:

“We’ve just posted the class assignments. Please note which class you’re in. This information will also be displayed on the school’s bulletin boards today.” ”

Serina turned around to look at the people who would be in her class. She was looking for one name in particular, and sighed with relief when she saw it. Lyne was in her class! At least she would have someone by her side who seemed friendly, hoping that Lyne wouldn’t turn on her in front of the others.

She heard snickers and turned her head toward the source of the noise: the other class representatives. Clearly, they were judging her for having turned around. Perhaps she shouldn’t have looked at the board they’d been asked to look at? She rolled her eyes at the absurdity, much to the surprise of some. Ms. Gillotard cleared her throat before continuing her explanation:

“On these scoreboards, you’ll also find each class’s ranking. At Eryndor, we foster your competitive spirit: every exam passed, every contest won, and every instance of exemplary behavior will be rewarded with points. These points will determine the class rankings. The winning class at the end of the year will not only receive a bonus for each family, but also access to better rooms for the entire class in their second year, and depending on the year, priority in choosing specializations or internships. Your homeroom teacher will explain this to you in due time.”

So there was a class ranking? She was going to do everything she could to get that top spot. They were going to learn not to look down on her.

“This is an opportunity to shine as a group, but we also want to foster your individuality. Class leaders have been appointed for this first year, but know that you all have the chance to become one next year by earning the most points for your class. Being a class leader is a responsibility, but also a privilege: a comfortable private room, free access to the library, a monthly bonus on your scholarship, and priority over your class for all choices. In the following years, other opportunities are offered to class leaders, so think of your class, but don’t forget to think of yourselves as well. Welcome to Eryndor. »

And the ceremony ended, in barely forty minutes. Eryndor seemed to value efficiency over the usual formalities. The students left the auditorium and took advantage of the fifteen minutes they had to get to know their class. But Serina noticed that many seemed less interested in getting to know each other than in greeting one another as if they already knew each other.

Three boys and six girls were heading toward her, including Lyne. This must be her class. She noticed that one of the boys, a tall blond with a friendly face, was wearing the Eryndor uniform just like her. She smiled broadly: she wasn’t alone in this. She stepped toward them and held out her hand to each one to greet them. If she was the class president, then she was going to play her part.

“Hello, my name is Serina Willhelm. I’m 15, just like you, I think,” she added with a laugh to break the ice.
“My name is Thélaine d’Ostréguil,” replied a petite brunette shyly. Two tall blondes at her side followed closely behind her.
“Naëlya Vrosmanthe and my twin, Almira,” said one of them confidently, while her twin nodded shyly.

Two other girls, standing back a bit but close to each other, introduced themselves in a more neutral tone: Ysoria and Velka. As for the boys, two were already friends: Seymar and Orven. The blond boy, for his part, offered a hesitant smile.

“Auren Ombrast. Nice to meet you.”

She took note of each name and face so she could remember them later. Ysoria, Velka, Seymar, and Orven still seemed to be sizing her up, while Auren looked rather lost. She was about to suggest they go check out the cafeteria when a voice from behind addressed her in a mocking tone.

“How did you cheat, farm girl? Did your village help you pass the tests?”

She turned around. A short, red-haired boy was approaching—one of the class leaders who had already mocked her on stage. He was wearing the same uniform as Lyne, as were four other students behind him—no doubt from his class. She raised an eyebrow when she saw those two laughing to back him up. Had she given the impression of being an easy target?

“Ophir, can’t you stop always picking on …” Lyne began to say in her defense.
“Yeah, there were ten of us on my test, but the supervisor ended up answering for us,” Serina said sarcastically.

She wasn’t going to let him walk all over her, nor was she going to let anyone else defend her. Her heart pounding, she held his gaze as he blinked, clearly unsettled by her response.

“That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? Now answer me: are you a jerk or are you jealous?"
"Jealous?! Stay in your place, you—"
"— the peasant, boo-hoo, Mom and Dad?” Serina cut him off mockingly, stepping closer to him and puffing out her chest to emphasize the few-centimeter height difference in her favor. “You’re insulting me, but really you’re questioning the entire leadership of Eryndor and Elystria’s oversight. Do you think they waited for you to verify my results? I didn’t need four private tutors, you know. So, are you stupid or just offended?”

Silence fell. He flushed with rage, opened his mouth, and closed it again. She didn’t know if some people had had private tutors, but she suspected he had—and it had paid off. She stared at the other two behind him, who seemed just as embarrassed as their leader. He finally left, tail between his legs, his henchmen hot on his heels. She sighed in relief, glad to have won this time.

She smiled as she turned back toward her class, just as Lyne clapped lightly, an impressed pout on her face. Ysoria and Orven looked suspicious, as did their friends. Solyandra wasn’t built in a day, after all. To lighten the mood, she took a bow like an actor after a scene.

“I want to make it clear that there’s no shame in having had private tutors,” added Lyne, a little stung by Serina’s remark.

“Let’s just say some people do better than others,” teased Serina, smiling at Auren, who smiled back. She was right; they were in the same boat.

“I didn’t think the country girl had such a sharp tongue,” retorted Lyne.

“Nor did I think the city girl needed so much help,” Serina replied without missing a beat.

They locked eyes, while the others watched them, not quite sure what to say. In the end, they laughed, to the bewilderment of their classmates. Lyne slung her arm around Serina’s neck, and Serina smiled, happy to have made a friend.

“I’m starving. Wanna hit the cafeteria?” Lyne asked.

She received the whole class’s approval, and they headed toward the cafeteria, following the signs. No one in the group, too busy getting to know each other, noticed the scoreboards that were already displaying each class’s points, most of which had a score of zero except for two:

Ophir’s Class: -5.
Serina’s Class: -10.
 
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Representing_Tromba

Sleep deprived mess of an author begging for feedb
Joined
Jan 29, 2020
Messages
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Let me know what you think! If you would rather not though, I understand.
 

JayMark

It's Not Easy Being Nobody, But Somebody Has To.
Joined
Jul 31, 2024
Messages
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I am curious to know what the resident cow thinks of my story.
Overall First Impresion: Originals like this should have more readers. It's well written. It's good. I'm mildly interested in reading further. It's always more difficult to analyze a good story, so here goes. 🐂

Angry: I'm very angry with the author because I recently made a commitment not to play project zombiod and be more productive with writing and reading this made me want to play PZ for another thousand hours. 🐂

Summation: The story is told in first person through the filter of journal. Overall it sticks to the limited perspective very well and makes the most of it. I get the sense of a snarky girl compulsively writing down her experiences because she has nothing better to do while hiding from the undead. The overall personality of the main character is strong so far, and will need to be, as one person's notes about the apocalypse will carry this narrative. It very much reads like a series of events in chronological progression from A to B to C. 🐂

Strengths: The writing feels tight, no wasted words. I don't feel like I read any fluff that needed to be deleted. Snarky deadpan character personality with jokes is able to carry early narrative. 🐂

Weakness: The writing felt sparse. She's not very descriptive. But it's not a glaring weakness. A few added diary entries with some more details and introspections may help. Or little sections where she goes into more detail, especially if addressing something important to her, could go a long way. 🐂

Potential: I think the author displays a degree of talent in keeping the logs interesting. The author could lean into the strengths of the diary's first person format by putting more detailed notes. If the diary writer is of the personality persuasion to actually want to help he future reader, details about the traps, foraging, constructions, and survival methods should start showing up in the diary as the writer matures. 🐂

More Potential: I did have the sense that MC needs some pathos, some stronger sense of why we should be rooting for her early on. This character feels selfish, and that's okay if its the intended effect. She doesn't write about family, friends, her past, nothing, as if the world didn't exist before a few weeks into the apocalypse. She's only concerned about writing down details relating to her survival. There is a risk going foward that your MC is going to be defined by pure snark and sarcasm. Or there is the chance that we're going to witness some real character growth, but I saw no hints of character growth in the first three chapters.🐂

I feel like this a character that I will either watch grow or stagnate. 🐂

Anal Cyst: The choices of what she writes about and doesn't write about are telling. Sometimes it feels to me like she's writing an action story instead of detailing things in a journal. In certain scenes I felt the writer to have her cake and eat it to. Plugging in pulse pounding action narrative with journal entries is like trying to run two diametrically oppossed currents against each other and risks hurting author credibility. I think you need to sit with your character as she's writing her entries and think about not only what she is writing, but how she is remembering it and what she is feeling at the time. 🐂

Critique: What stands out to me is a greater need for further exploration into the characters inner life and history. A strength of the diary format is the ability to look back. I have no sense of who the main character is before the apocalypse. It's like she spawned into existence, got grabbed by a zombie, jumped through a window, and just existed from there like a PZ character. Does it work, yeah, could it work a lot better, certainly. metioning the stuffed animals being gifts from her grandparents was a good start. The nice thing about your format is that it is very easy to edit if you want to flesh out your main character and add more reflection about this. Or even have her question why she is not more reflective. And you may do this later, but my suggestion is to foreshadow more earlier with some new diary entries. 🐂

Further Critique?: I'm struggling with short paragraphs for this format, but really only for the attempts approaching action scenes. It feels like the narrative doesn't know if it wants to be fast paced action or reflective. If you choose a reflective device to portray your story, it should stay more reflective. The narative risks feeling overly simplistic and the main character risks becoming a one note apocalyptic sarcasm delivery device. 🐂

Redacted Nitpicks: I was going to nitpick some style things, but this is a diary and I feel like it's important to let the character write the way she writes, with jank and all and even one word sentences. Mainly I wanted less short sentences and slightly longer paragraphs. But I changed my mind after thinking about it, even for that one janky list that set off my internal editing mode. 🐂

Nitpicks: Nintendo reference, your story is now Nintendo IP. 😭 Same for the Cheverolet. 😭 They have to fight over who owns your story it if it becomes a blockbuster best seller in zombie ficition. 🐂

Narrative Edit Suggestion: Girl jumped through a glass window in a mini-skirt and didn't get badly cut-up or embeded glass shards, what? That's cringe. Having her get through that without consequence is absolutely wasted potential. The event as it stands might as well have not even happened. Just have the window be partially open or something and she bumps her elbow, or have future diary entries reflect on how much she regrets her life choices. Even the bare minimum shards of glass in her clothing is never mentioned again. Having even small shards of glass allover your body is very bad and risks all sorts of injury. If you insist on the drama of flying through a glass window, take advantage of her choice to define the narrative going forward, don't negate it. In reader mode, I have less trust you as an author if you demonstrate negation of consequences too soon. You only get so many 'she got lucky' moments and should use them more wisely. 🐂:mad_s:

Final Impression: I liked it but didn't love it. Zombie fiction in a diary format is a hard sell. The first person format is something I never liked reading, but you do it well. As for the diary format, I think you fail to utilize some of its strengths while suffering from its drawbacks. Abandon attempts at thriller type action sequences and play into the reflective strengths of a diary format. 🐂

Number Rating: 7.5 Bruce Lees out of 12,564 zombie T-rexs 🐂

Good job. Keep writing.🐂
 

code_sike

New member
Joined
Mar 23, 2026
Messages
1
Points
3
New writer here. My story is something i've been wanting to get down somewhere anywhere for a while now. Figured somewhere small like SH fit. Be as brutal as you need - I know some points are in clear need of improvement. Since its well under 10k and the first 2 chapters don't do the plot enough justice, I'll post 3 early. Thanks in advance!
 

AliceMoonvale

Honorary White Asian Girl
Joined
Nov 15, 2025
Messages
608
Points
93
Overall First Impresion: Originals like this should have more readers. It's well written. It's good. I'm mildly interested in reading further. It's always more difficult to analyze a good story, so here goes. 🐂

Angry: I'm very angry with the author because I recently made a commitment not to play project zombiod and be more productive with writing and reading this made me want to play PZ for another thousand hours. 🐂

Summation: The story is told in first person through the filter of journal. Overall it sticks to the limited perspective very well and makes the most of it. I get the sense of a snarky girl compulsively writing down her experiences because she has nothing better to do while hiding from the undead. The overall personality of the main character is strong so far, and will need to be, as one person's notes about the apocalypse will carry this narrative. It very much reads like a series of events in chronological progression from A to B to C. 🐂

Strengths: The writing feels tight, no wasted words. I don't feel like I read any fluff that needed to be deleted. Snarky deadpan character personality with jokes is able to carry early narrative. 🐂

Weakness: The writing felt sparse. She's not very descriptive. But it's not a glaring weakness. A few added diary entries with some more details and introspections may help. Or little sections where she goes into more detail, especially if addressing something important to her, could go a long way. 🐂

Potential: I think the author displays a degree of talent in keeping the logs interesting. The author could lean into the strengths of the diary's first person format by putting more detailed notes. If the diary writer is of the personality persuasion to actually want to help he future reader, details about the traps, foraging, constructions, and survival methods should start showing up in the diary as the writer matures. 🐂

More Potential: I did have the sense that MC needs some pathos, some stronger sense of why we should be rooting for her early on. This character feels selfish, and that's okay if its the intended effect. She doesn't write about family, friends, her past, nothing, as if the world didn't exist before a few weeks into the apocalypse. She's only concerned about writing down details relating to her survival. There is a risk going foward that your MC is going to be defined by pure snark and sarcasm. Or there is the chance that we're going to witness some real character growth, but I saw no hints of character growth in the first three chapters.🐂

I feel like this a character that I will either watch grow or stagnate. 🐂

Anal Cyst: The choices of what she writes about and doesn't write about are telling. Sometimes it feels to me like she's writing an action story instead of detailing things in a journal. In certain scenes I felt the writer to have her cake and eat it to. Plugging in pulse pounding action narrative with journal entries is like trying to run two diametrically oppossed currents against each other and risks hurting author credibility. I think you need to sit with your character as she's writing her entries and think about not only what she is writing, but how she is remembering it and what she is feeling at the time. 🐂

Critique: What stands out to me is a greater need for further exploration into the characters inner life and history. A strength of the diary format is the ability to look back. I have no sense of who the main character is before the apocalypse. It's like she spawned into existence, got grabbed by a zombie, jumped through a window, and just existed from there like a PZ character. Does it work, yeah, could it work a lot better, certainly. metioning the stuffed animals being gifts from her grandparents was a good start. The nice thing about your format is that it is very easy to edit if you want to flesh out your main character and add more reflection about this. Or even have her question why she is not more reflective. And you may do this later, but my suggestion is to foreshadow more earlier with some new diary entries. 🐂

Further Critique?: I'm struggling with short paragraphs for this format, but really only for the attempts approaching action scenes. It feels like the narrative doesn't know if it wants to be fast paced action or reflective. If you choose a reflective device to portray your story, it should stay more reflective. The narative risks feeling overly simplistic and the main character risks becoming a one note apocalyptic sarcasm delivery device. 🐂

Redacted Nitpicks: I was going to nitpick some style things, but this is a diary and I feel like it's important to let the character write the way she writes, with jank and all and even one word sentences. Mainly I wanted less short sentences and slightly longer paragraphs. But I changed my mind after thinking about it, even for that one janky list that set off my internal editing mode. 🐂

Nitpicks: Nintendo reference, your story is now Nintendo IP. 😭 Same for the Cheverolet. 😭 They have to fight over who owns your story it if it becomes a blockbuster best seller in zombie ficition. 🐂

Narrative Edit Suggestion: Girl jumped through a glass window in a mini-skirt and didn't get badly cut-up or embeded glass shards, what? That's cringe. Having her get through that without consequence is absolutely wasted potential. The event as it stands might as well have not even happened. Just have the window be partially open or something and she bumps her elbow, or have future diary entries reflect on how much she regrets her life choices. Even the bare minimum shards of glass in her clothing is never mentioned again. Having even small shards of glass allover your body is very bad and risks all sorts of injury. If you insist on the drama of flying through a glass window, take advantage of her choice to define the narrative going forward, don't negate it. In reader mode, I have less trust you as an author if you demonstrate negation of consequences too soon. You only get so many 'she got lucky' moments and should use them more wisely. 🐂:mad_s:

Final Impression: I liked it but didn't love it. Zombie fiction in a diary format is a hard sell. The first person format is something I never liked reading, but you do it well. As for the diary format, I think you fail to utilize some of its strengths while suffering from its drawbacks. Abandon attempts at thriller type action sequences and play into the reflective strengths of a diary format. 🐂

Number Rating: 7.5 Bruce Lees out of 12,564 zombie T-rexs 🐂

Good job. Keep writing.🐂

Ayyy thanks for the giant wall of text analysis, I appreciate it. lol :blob_salute:
Here's my semi wall of text~

You picked up on a lot of things I was aiming for, with the core aspect being the diary perspective and my MC's voice. I already had plans to edit and add in extra introspection, or general reflection, lingering thoughts/effects in earlier chapters for different reasons. The first 5 chapters are intentionally chaotic, I would say, but I'm aware that I should drop some hints that relate to later parts of the story, as she goes through a lot of changes in the eyes of the reader.

As for the action vs diary balance, interesting point. I lean into the immediacy of things a bit too much occasionally as I try to maintain the theme of 'chaotic times calls for chaotic writing' so adding more “this is being remembered” would be added to my list. I just have to juggle with exposing too much or too little about my MC during essentially the first arch of the story, since more of who she is is slowly revealed over time intentionally.

Wouldn't want to spoil anything, but, my MC is a bit of a perfectionist and writes the diary as if someone might be reading and judging her character. And on that note, I wholly trust readers (maybe too much) to piece things together themselves, rather than me hold their hand and spoon-feed them everything upfront.

And that ties into the mention of the MC being selfish / lacking pathos early on. Also intentional, but again, on my list of things to subtly improve on and seed things in earlier in smaller ways.

Thanks again~ glad you liked it. It's definitely inspired by diary stories I've read before of girls recounting their experiences during key points in history. Also inspired by Dracula, Shirley Jackson and some high influence from project zomboid in some areas. :blob_shade:
 

blushiemagic

New member
Joined
Nov 5, 2025
Messages
16
Points
3
Hello I am in need of both food and bag

I recently rewrote the intro for my story (coincidentally, the first three chapters) in order to raise the stakes, since there were like no stakes in the original version. But now I worry it’s bloated and even slower.
I haven’t posted this on SH yet since I don’t trust my free time and want to build up like a 50-chapter backlog first, so I posted links to individual chapter documents instead.

SH Genres: Action, Fantasy, Gender Bender, Horror, Isekai, LitRPG, Psychological, Sci-Fi

By day, Thomas lives a hollow life, studying for a postgraduate degree and struggling to care when the war threatens to topple all that he’s worked for. By night, he suffers visceral nightmares, a sharp contrast to the numbness of his waking life.

But one morning, a new dream that feels more real than anything else offers a retreat from the terrors. He's thrown for a loop when the dream robs him of his body, then again when it changes him into not one, but two girls. Now named Rayna and Lillian, they quickly find themselves thrust into both sides of a conflict between order and chaos. But now they’ve got awesome magic, and hey, anything’s better than the nightmares!

Or so they think, until the lines between dream and reality begin to blur, and their newfound refuge melts away. Unbeknownst to them, Rayna and Lillian are about to change both dreamworld and reality forever. And as they will soon discover, their old nightmares aren't done with them just yet…

Chapter 1: https://write.ellipsus.com/edit/cf843f5e-f819-43ea-b77e-bdecf6a642ba
Chapter 2: https://write.ellipsus.com/edit/c9dace26-981a-4dae-8157-d5f238f2c9f0
Chapter 3: https://write.ellipsus.com/edit/6d5728a9-a651-4adf-85f6-61db76fd6f1a
 

AsherCrown

New member
Joined
Mar 24, 2026
Messages
3
Points
1
View attachment 47893
I need to read more. So I am offering my worthless services for writers of original fiction. 🐂

What I'm Offering: I will give my general impression of your first three chapters or 10k words, whichever comes first. It's going to be a dry, bullish, assesment of one failed writer's thoughts on your work. I'm generally not as mean as I look, but I'm not going to sugar coat anything. I'm not good with synopsis making, so I will not rate your synopsis. I'm not going to nitpick typos, too much. All feedbag material will remain contained to this thread. 🐂

I will give feedbag for any work on Scribblehub, except for the four horsemen of the Scriblepocalypse:

1. Translations :blob_thor:
2. Fanfictions :blob_thor:
3. Obvious LLM output :blob_thor:
4. Smut :blob_thor:

But why won't you review these you stupid nobody? :mad_s:😭😭😭💢💢💢 - I do what I want. Did you even read the title? 🐂

1. They are against the rules here. Why would I give feedbag to you for something someone else wrote? However, I will read translations of your own original work. 🐂

2. Another short cut to readership. But I don't like reading fanfiction. You guys are giving your talent and hard work to someone else's IP for a bit of attention and fame, or to scratch an itch for whatever IP you're way too serious about. I'd rather you just be inspired by something to write a creative successor, but that's just me. And that's hard work when the readers will crawl through broken glass for name recognition and the characters and world are handed to you. Nor do you have to deal with idiots comparing your original characters and worlds to someone elses IP to make you look bad. The only thing you can't do is legally monetize. Regardless, you guys have built in fan bases and don't need my help. 🐂

3. LLM stuff may get past me. Sometimes I don't recognize it at all, so if you get it past me, good on ya I suppose. 🐂
This is based on the honor system. I'm asking you politely not to give me LLM products. 🐂
If I strongly suspect your work to be LLM, I will cancel the review and let you know that I think it is too LLM for me. 🐂

4. I may give in and write smut to try for money someday, but I don't want to read it. It's another shortcut to readership imo, we all know it, so smut writers don't need feedback from me. I want to help those who are struggling to produce originals for more general audiences. 🐂


I'm going to read and analyze the first three chapters/10k words and give a general assesment on flow, prose, theme, and plot. 🐂
I'll rate aspects of your work that stand out however I please. 🐂
I may take some excerpts and edit them with added notes for your review. 🐂
I'm moody. 🐂
I may be in a pissy mood and full of sarcastic humor. 🐂
I may be jealous of your success and thus full of dark sarcastic humor but I'll try to remain honest. 🐂
If the title bar says closed, I do not have the bandwidth to do further reviews. 🐂


By asking for feedback, you consent to these activities and agree to be a mature adult and not seek retribution for my thoughts.
Please. Here's my novel.
Thankyou.
 
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