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I’ve sent a few stories to my editor to rip and tear through for me. So far, he’s edited Silo, Vampire, Angel, and Spotted a Burning Wagon in the Distance. Vampire is the first, so it gets to be posted first—it should be submitted sometime today, assuming no last-minute adjustments.
Personally, I think his editing has made a huge difference to the overall tone, pacing, and prose of the story. It feels sharper, cleaner—more like what I envisioned all those years ago. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it—and he liked editing it. This was definitely one of my favourites, and one I wrote over ten years ago
Aye, a reader pointed out that I can contact the author, I didn't see that before. I'm not removing the review, as you know I post all of my reviews on here. But I have contacted him and sent him a message. I wish him the best!
The story is a good concept written from a woman's POV, however, it seems to lack depth. Its reliance on simple sentences and lack of emotional, contextual, or descriptive depth limits its impact. By varying sentence structures, delving into the protagonist’s psyche, developing characters, and adding sensory richness or conflict, the narrative could transform into a more complex, immersive tale that balances eroticism with human complexity.
His version:
As I entered the back of the display counter Phil showed me to the cooler at the opposite end of the back room.
As I entered the cooler I heard him close and slide the bolt on the door to lock us in.
I felt a little nervous but thought about how I asked for this by teasing him.
My version:
The cooler’s icy breath enveloped me, hardening my nipples as Phil slid the bolt shut with a sharp clank that echoed in the silence. My pulse quickened—not just from the cold, but from the reckless game I’d played, teasing him with every sway at his counter. You wanted this, a voice whispered, and as Phil’s eyes, no longer bashful but ravenous, locked onto mine, I felt the weight of my own desire. His arms wrapped around me, hands claiming my breasts with a boldness that sent shivers to my core, and I leaned back, a low moan betraying my surrender. “I’ve wanted you forever,” he breathed, his voice rough against my ear, and as he pressed closer, his need mirrored mine. When he bent me over the stacked boxes, my pants falling in a rush, each thrust unraveled the careful wife I’d left outside this locked door. Yet, even as my body sang, a quiet question lingered: What was I chasing, and what would I lose?
Holy shit, my highest scoring yet. Silo was just an off the cuff, spur of the moment story as I wanking to Rebecca. I wrote it out, plugged it through AI, and gave it to Steven who then promply bitched about me doing that and edited the shit out of it. And here we stand 7.69 score! Thanks lads, glad you approve.
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