Editor needs samples for Fiverr

Snickerdoodles 2020-05-31 06:45:19 UTC #1

I'll edit up to a thousand words and give it back with a detailed critique.

EDIT: Please send me a word doc or a link to a page I can copy-paste. Tapas doesn't allow for that.

crypt101 2020-06-07 23:11:19 UTC #2

Hello I'm a newbie writer, so sorry in advance if there are problems in my writing. Please give me constructive criticism and way to fix it. Here is my writing. Thank you in advance.

This is a story about me, a Neet with nothing to lose or so I thought. I, Ryder Stark age 22, Jobless, lives in Dhaka with my family, graduated from High School, became a Shut-In Neet after High School. I am your everyday neet, gamer, *otaku you name it I am that, not proud of it but still happy about it. But my life changed one day.
(Otaku: I person how likes mangas, animes, games, figurines, etc. For more info search "otaku" in google)

Ryder: Ahhh damn f**k shit why the internet isn’t working. I should search online on how to fix it .... Huh! The page isn’t working, I should check my phone "Error site isn’t working". There is no internet. What to do? What to do? Well, I'll sleep early today. Usually the protagonists in mangas when this happens to them something great happens like they get *isekaied or get an op skill or cheat skills, it usually happens to the protagonist will it happen with me too " YAWN" well what the heck "SYSTEM OPEN" huh? sudden I feel really tired, can see something but It's blurry.

"slowly eyelids gets heavy and shuts down. "

(Isekied or Isekai: A person how travels to an another world)

Ryder: "YAWN" I never felt this energized hehe maybe I'll play the heck of FUBG today and be the lord in it. Hahahahahaha huh? What the heck is this?

In front of Ryder there is a window saying "Congratulations! First one to open Vork in this country, as a reward you get the title 'The first Vorker' with this title you get 'double stat points', 'double experience points', and 'double reward', permanent effect".

Ryder: What the heck? I might be dreaming. I should stop watching and reading anything with the game like mangas, manhuas or manhwas It's distorting my reality, I should take a shower and freshen up that'll fix it.

“Water rushing down sound"

As he does what he mentioned, he sees the window following him around wherever he fixes his gaze upon. It was bothering him a lot so much so he rushes out for a morning stroll, as he passes by his mother, father and sister, as they were astounded to see him going to out on his own without any pressure, they are in an awe. Whatsoever this doesn’t change the fact what Ryder is facing, the dilemma his facing right now could change his future for better or for worse, it will depend on his next course of action.

Ryder: ha ha what is happening? Why won't it go away? Am I having a psychological breakdown? Calm down you, get it together, your much stronger than this. There should be a park around the corner, I'll take breather there. "DING" "DING" "DING"

"EMERGENCY QUEST" "FAILURE TO COMPLETE THIS QUEST WILL BE DEATH".

Snickerdoodles 2020-07-10 17:49:52 UTC #3

u/Fearless_Application

ORIGINAL TEXT (All italics capitalized.)

I was 26 years old before the goat spoke to me. I had, that morning, set it upon myself to wander through the unkempt country-side and climb to the top of STRAEGYRS MOUNT. The stick-your-clothes-to-your-skin heat had almost turned me back twice. An ankle roll and tumble amongst the gravel had me on the brink of abandoning the ascent, but the strain and struggle were finally justified to me when I summited and found the top-of-the-mountain view was mine alone, and all the more spectacular for it. Well, I was alone but for a goat who stood on a stack of rocks, grinding a clump of grass between its teeth. In a rather discomforting way, the goat was STARING at me. Not just looking, but intently staring. It’s gaze followed me as I approached my own stack of rocks (not too comfortable, cracks and bumps in all the wrong places), retrieved my water bottle from the bottom of my rucksack, and took several long, drawn-out gulps of water. It didn’t flinch when I splashed water all about and over my head to cool off. It just stared at me.

I stepped away from my rocky seat and turned my back on the goat. The sun was a furious, hot disc of bronze melting away into the earth’s horizon. The scene demanded attention; a balance of serenity and the weight of a day’s end. Sinking in a heat-haze and casting out carelessly shards of light, settling somewhere between a deep red and mellow purple, across the landscape. All this spectacle, and yet I found myself thinking of the goat. I knew – don’t ask me how, but I did – that the goat was still staring at me.

The goat did something then that I’m quite certain I will never forget. The goat sighed. The sound a goat makes when it sighs is rather hard to describe, but it does rather well to communicate contempt.

‘I suppose you’re disappointed to see me,’ the goat began. It took a couple of steps forward, gracefully leapt from its plinth, and then continued, ‘I’m not quite the mighty beast most people expect, I’ll grant you, but it does rather wear down the esteem when everyone you encounter is visibly disappointed.’

Now, perhaps I’m unique in this regard, but I had never before that moment considered how I might respond to a talking goat. It didn’t seem unreasonable to scream or to scamper a hasty retreat back down the mountain, all the while questioning my health and sanity, with comforting reassurances that it was only the heat and if I could just make it home for a cool bath… Well, as it turns out, my response was to look to and fro; I glanced from the eastern climb of the mountain (empty, barren, treacherous) to the western slopes (empty, barren, hazardous), and then back to the goat again. I suppose I was making sure I was alone, lest I embarrass myself.

‘Umm, well. No,’ I finally managed, still half unbelieving ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone or umm, ANYTHING.’ For some reason which seemed sensible at the time, I hoped the goat hadn’t taken any offence to my using the term ‘thing.’ At any rate, the goat seemed rather taken aback. Or at least I THINK it looked taken aback. It’s rather difficult, I find, to judge how a goat is feeling – even now I struggle.

‘Oh, well then,’ the goat said after a considerable amount of time, ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’
With that, the goat turned around and began a CLIP-CLOP departure.

‘Well wait a moment, now!’ I called out. ‘I feel you owe me an explanation.’ The goat had, after all, rather upset my understanding of the world. The world I knew at the bottom of the mountain didn’t have any talking goats and no one I knew would reasonably believe that I had encountered a talking goat. The goat didn’t seem to care for my plight, however, and so the CLIP-CLOPPING continued. I tried again.

‘Hold on! I said that you ought to explain yourself to me!’
With notable reluctance, the goat turned to face me.

‘I owe you an explanation?’ the goat questioned, teasing and condescending. ‘You’re the one who’s come to the top of my mountain, uninvited and without any work for me to do.’

Now I found myself feeling bizarrely apologetic. I hadn’t asked the goat for permission, though how could I have known that’s what I ought to have done?

‘Right, well. Err, work you say?’

‘I stop ideas.’

‘You stop ideas?’

‘If I could, I’d also stop you repeating everything back to me. Yes, it’s my job to stop ideas but since you’ve come all the way to the top of the mountain without a single idea that needs stopping, then I’ve nothing for you. Good day.’

I ignored the dismissal and continued my questions.

‘Why do you stop ideas? HOW do you stop ideas?’

The goat took a moment to consider my question. Rather than thinking through an answer, it occurred to me that the goat was debating whether or not it was worth its time to answer my question. I guess it was a slow day, for the goat finally explained.

‘There isn’t a why to it. Each client has their own reasons for wanting each particular idea stopped, though I never inquire. I stop ideas because there’s a demand for that sort of skill. Why does a shoemaker make shoes other than people need shoes to be made?’ The goat took a moment’s pauses, scratched about in the dust with a hoof, and then went on.

‘The HOW is far more complicated, and you’re not likely to ever understand.’

All the while the goat talked, I wracked my brain for an idea worth stopping. I didn’t have any ideas of my own which might need stopping, most of the ideas in my village seemed like good ideas to me. At last, a thought came to me.

‘If you can stop ideas, why do you let everyone expect a mighty beast? Couldn’t you stop THAT idea?’

COMMENTARY

I was 26 years old before the goat spoke to me. I had, that morning, set it upon myself to wander through the unkempt country-side and climb to the top of STRAEGYRS MOUNT. The stick-your-clothes-to-your-skin heat had almost turned me back twice. An ankle roll and tumble amongst the gravel had me on the brink of abandoning the ascent, but the strain and struggle were finally justified to me when I summited and found the top-of-the-mountain view was mine alone, and all the more spectacular for it. Well, I was alone but for a goat who stood on a stack of rocks, grinding a clump of grass between its teeth. In a rather discomforting way, the goat was STARING at me. Not just looking, but intently staring. It’s gaze followed me as I approached my own stack of rocks (not too comfortable, cracks and bumps in all the wrong places), retrieved my water bottle from the bottom of my rucksack, and took several long, drawn-out gulps of water. It didn’t flinch when I splashed water all about and over my head to cool off. It just stared at me.

I was twenty-six years old when the goat spoke to me. That morning I had set it upon myself to wander through the countryside and climb to the top of Straegyrs Mount.

It was hot enough to stick clothes to skin and I almost turned back twice. An ankle roll and a tumble amongst the gravel pushed me to the edge of giving up, but the struggle finally justified itself when I summited and found that the view at the top was mine alone. Well, I was alone except for a goat standing on a pile of rocks, grinding a clump of grass between its teeth.

It wasn't just looking at me, it was staring. Its gaze followed me as I sat down on my own rock pile, retrieved my water bottle from my rucksack, and took several long gulps. It didn’t flinch when I splashed water all about my head.

There was a lot of text to throw at the reader just as they were starting out, so I divided it into three paragraphs.

I stepped away from my rocky seat and turned my back on the goat. The sun was a furious, hot disc of bronze melting away into the earth’s horizon. The scene demanded attention; a balance of serenity and the weight of a day’s end. Sinking in a heat-haze and casting out carelessly shards of light, settling somewhere between a deep red and mellow purple, across the landscape. All this spectacle, and yet I found myself thinking of the goat. I knew – don’t ask me how, but I did – that the goat was still staring at me.

I stepped away from my bumpy seat and turned my back on the goat. The sun was a disc of bronze melting into the horizon. It sank in a haze of heat and cast red shards of light across the landscape. The day was ending and the serenity of the moment demanded my attention. And yet, I found myself thinking about the goat. Don't ask me how I knew, but it was still staring.

I de-anthropomorphized the sun a bit.

The goat did something then that I’m quite certain I will never forget. The goat sighed. The sound a goat makes when it sighs is rather hard to describe, but it does rather well to communicate contempt.

‘I suppose you’re disappointed to see me,’ the goat began. It took a couple of steps forward, gracefully leapt from its plinth, and then continued, ‘I’m not quite the mighty beast most people expect, I’ll grant you, but it does rather wear down the esteem when everyone you encounter is visibly disappointed.’

Then it did something I will never forget. It sighed. It's hard to describe what a goat sounds like when it does that, but it communicated contempt rather well. “I suppose you’re disappointed to see me,” it said.

“I'm quite certain I will never forget” means the same thing as “I will never forget” but with fewer unnecessary qualifications. Also, I changed the way dialogue was punctuated. There are many ways to do that, but this is the standard one.

Now, perhaps I’m unique in this regard, but I had never before that moment considered how I might respond to a talking goat. It didn’t seem unreasonable to scream or to scamper a hasty retreat back down the mountain, all the while questioning my health and sanity, with comforting reassurances that it was only the heat and if I could just make it home for a cool bath… Well, as it turns out, my response was to look to and fro; I glanced from the eastern climb of the mountain (empty, barren, treacherous) to the western slopes (empty, barren, hazardous), and then back to the goat again. I suppose I was making sure I was alone, lest I embarrass myself.

Maybe I'm unique, but I never considered how I might respond to a talking goat. It didn’t seem unreasonable to scream and scamper down the mountain, questioning my sanity all the way. As it turned out, my response was to glance from the eastern route (empty, barren, treacherous) to the western slopes (empty, barren, invariably fatal) and then back to the goat. I suppose I was making sure I was alone so I wouldn't embarrass myself.

“Lest” is a bit old-fashioned. I wasn't sure if the author was going for that kind of tone so I just made everything sound more contemporary.

‘Umm, well. No,’ I finally managed, still half unbelieving ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone or umm, ANYTHING.’ For some reason which seemed sensible at the time, I hoped the goat hadn’t taken any offence to my using the term ‘thing.’ At any rate, the goat seemed rather taken aback. Or at least I THINK it looked taken aback. It’s rather difficult, I find, to judge how a goat is feeling – even now I struggle.

It took a couple of steps forward and leaped daintily from its perch. “I’m not the mighty beast most people expect, I’ll grant you, but it wears on the old self-esteem when everyone you meet is disappointed.”

“Umm, well. I'm not disappointed. I wasn’t expecting anyone or, umm, anything.” I still only half-believing this was happening. I hoped the goat hadn’t taken offense at my calling it a ‘thing.’ At any rate, it seemed disturbed, though it’s difficult to judge how a goat is feeling—even now I struggle.

In the original, a solid paragraph's worth of text stood between the goat's statement and the main character's response. This might confuse some readers, so I reordered things.

(Continued Below)

‘Oh, well then,’ the goat said after a considerable amount of time, ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’ With that, the goat turned around and began a CLIP-CLOP departure.

After a considerable pause it said, “Oh, well then. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” It turned and began to clip-clop away.

“A considerable amount of time” should go between “Umm, well. I'm not disappointed. I wasn’t expecting anyone or, umm, anything.” and “Oh, well then. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

‘Well wait a moment, now!’ I called out. ‘I feel you owe me an explanation.’ The goat had, after all, rather upset my understanding of the world. The world I knew at the bottom of the mountain didn’t have any talking goats and no one I knew would reasonably believe that I had encountered a talking goat. The goat didn’t seem to care for my plight, however, and so the CLIP-CLOPPING continued. I tried again.

‘Hold on! I said that you ought to explain yourself to me!’ With notable reluctance, the goat turned to face me.

“Well, wait a moment, now!” I said. “I feel like you owe me an explanation.” The goat had upset my understanding of the world, after all. It didn’t seem to care though, and continued to amble away. “Hold on!” I called out. “I said you ought to explain yourself to me!”

“Rather” as an adjective modifier adds nothing. “The world I knew at the bottom of the mountain didn’t have any talking goats and no one I knew would reasonably believe that I had encountered a talking goat.” doesn't add anything either, plus it slows down the flow of the story.

‘I owe you an explanation?’ the goat questioned, teasing and condescending. ‘You’re the one who’s come to the top of my mountain, uninvited and without any work for me to do.’

The goat slowly turned to face me. “I owe you an explanation? You’re the one who’s come to my mountain uninvited and without any work for me.”

If you italicize the right word you don't need to tell the reader that the tone was “teasing and condescending.”

Now I found myself feeling bizarrely apologetic. I hadn’t asked the goat for permission, though how could I have known that’s what I ought to have done?

‘Right, well. Err, work you say?’

‘I stop ideas.’

‘You stop ideas?’

‘If I could, I’d also stop you repeating everything back to me. Yes, it’s my job to stop ideas but since you’ve come all the way to the top of the mountain without a single idea that needs stopping, then I’ve nothing for you. Good day.’

I found myself feeling apologetic. I hadn’t asked the goat for permission, but how could I have known? “Right, well. Er, work you say?”

“I stop ideas.”

“You stop ideas?” I said.

“If I could, I’d also stop you repeating everything back to me. Yes, it’s my job, but since you’ve come all the way without a single idea that needs stopping, I have nothing for you. Good day.”

The first paragraph and first line of dialogue originated from the same character, so I combined them. I also added a dialogue tag to the third bit of dialogue. “Said” is invisible but it does keep things clear when it comes to who said what.

I ignored the dismissal and continued my questions.

‘Why do you stop ideas? HOW do you stop ideas?’

The goat took a moment to consider my question. Rather than thinking through an answer, it occurred to me that the goat was debating whether or not it was worth its time to answer my question. I guess it was a slow day, for the goat finally explained.

‘There isn’t a why to it. Each client has their own reasons for wanting each particular idea stopped, though I never inquire. I stop ideas because there’s a demand for that sort of skill. Why does a shoemaker make shoes other than people need shoes to be made?’ The goat took a moment’s pauses, scratched about in the dust with a hoof, and then went on.

‘The HOW is far more complicated, and you’re not likely to ever understand.’

“Why do you stop ideas? How do you stop ideas?”

The goat considered. It occurred to me that, rather than think of an answer, it was debating whether or not it was worth answering in the first place. It must have been a slow day because it finally said, “There isn’t a why to it. Every client has their reasons for wanting an idea stopped, but I never ask. Why would a shoemaker make shoes if people didn't need shoes? I stop ideas because there’s demand for that sort of thing.” It scratched in the dust with one hoof. “The how is far more complicated and you’re not likely to ever understand.”

“I ignored the dismissal and continued my questions.” is made redundant by the next line, which shows the main character ignoring the dismissal and continuing their questions. Same deal with “The goat took a moment’s pauses, scratched about in the dust with a hoof, and then went on.” The next line makes it clear that the goat does indeed go on.

All the while the goat talked, I wracked my brain for an idea worth stopping. I didn’t have any ideas of my own which might need stopping, most of the ideas in my village seemed like good ideas to me. At last, a thought came to me.

‘If you can stop ideas, why do you let everyone expect a mighty beast? Couldn’t you stop THAT idea?’

All while the goat talked, I wracked my brain for an idea. I didn’t have any of my own that might need stopping and most of the ones in my village seemed like good ones. At last, a thought came to me.

“If you can stop ideas, why do you let everyone expect a mighty beast? Couldn’t you stop that idea?”

The original had too many instances of the word “idea.” Overall, the story has an interesting premise and the writing is decent if a bit first-draft. I encourage the author to continue their work.

EDITED TEXT

I was twenty-six years old when the goat spoke to me. That morning I had set it upon myself to wander through the countryside and climb to the top of Straegyrs Mount.

It was hot enough to stick clothes to skin and I almost turned back twice. An ankle roll and a tumble amongst the gravel pushed me to the edge of giving up, but the struggle finally justified itself when I summited and found that the view at the top was mine alone. Well, I was alone except for a goat standing on a pile of rocks, grinding a clump of grass between its teeth.

It wasn't just looking at me, it was staring. Its gaze followed me as I sat down on my own rock pile, retrieved my water bottle from my rucksack, and took several long gulps. It didn’t flinch when I splashed water all about my head.

I stepped away from my bumpy seat and turned my back on the goat. The sun was a disc of bronze melting into the horizon. It sank in a haze of heat and cast red shards of light across the landscape. The day was ending and the serenity of the moment demanded my attention. And yet, I found myself thinking about the goat. Don't ask me how I knew, but it was still staring.

Then it did something I will never forget. It sighed. It's hard to describe what a goat sounds like when it does that, but it communicated contempt rather well. “I suppose you’re disappointed to see me,” it said.

Maybe I'm unique, but I never considered how I might respond to a talking goat. It didn’t seem unreasonable to scream and scamper down the mountain, questioning my sanity all the way. As it turned out, my response was to glance from the eastern route (empty, barren, treacherous) to the western slopes (empty, barren, invariably fatal) and then back to the goat. I suppose I was making sure I was alone so I wouldn't embarrass myself.

It took a couple of steps forward and leaped daintily from its perch. “I’m not the mighty beast most people expect, I’ll grant you, but it wears on the old self-esteem when everyone you meet is disappointed.”

“Umm, well. I'm not disappointed. I wasn’t expecting anyone or, umm, anything.” I still only half-believing this was happening. I hoped the goat hadn’t taken offense at my calling it a ‘thing.’ At any rate, it seemed disturbed, though it’s difficult to judge how a goat is feeling—even now I struggle.

After a considerable pause it said, “Oh, well then. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” It turned and began to clip-clop away.

“Well, wait a moment, now!” I said. “I feel like you owe me an explanation.” The goat had upset my understanding of the world, after all. It didn’t seem to care though, and continued to amble away. “Hold on!” I called out. “I said you ought to explain yourself to me!”

The goat slowly turned to face me. “I owe you an explanation? You’re the one who’s come to my mountain uninvited and without any work for me.”

I found myself feeling apologetic. I hadn’t asked the goat for permission, but how could I have known? “Right, well. Er, work you say?”

“I stop ideas.”

“You stop ideas?” I said.

“If I could, I’d also stop you repeating everything back to me. Yes, it’s my job, but since you’ve come all the way without a single idea that needs stopping, I have nothing for you. Good day.”

“Why do you stop ideas? How do you stop ideas?”

The goat considered. It occurred to me that, rather than think of an answer, it was debating whether or not it was worth answering in the first place. It must have been a slow day because it finally said, “There isn’t a why to it. Every client has their reasons for wanting an idea stopped, but I never ask. Why would a shoemaker make shoes if people didn't need shoes? I stop ideas because there’s demand for that sort of thing.” It scratched in the dust with one hoof. “The how is far more complicated and you’re not likely to ever understand.”

All while the goat talked, I wracked my brain for an idea. I didn’t have any of my own that might need stopping and most of the ones in my village seemed like good ones. At last, a thought came to me.

“If you can stop ideas, why do you let everyone expect a mighty beast? Couldn’t you stop that idea?"