@Jay Greenstein - this is practically a copy of the crit you gave me (and the last three paragraphs are close to identical iirc). Do you bespoke the critique given or simply reiterate the same advice to all?
II don't record who I do a critique for, and I do a fair number per week, so I didn't remember that I'd done one for your work. But think about it. What I said was based on the approach. and since you're writing with those same techniques, my response was the same.
Pretty close to 95% of the manuscripts I received for critique read pretty much the same. The words and the plot changed, but the fact-based and author-centric approach was the one we all spend twelve years of our schooling practicing till it feels intuitive. So the critique I gave this piece reflects that for the same reason the first one did.
As I said, it's not a matter of talent. And your English teachers would probably praise the writing. But an acquiring editor or agent wouldn't see it as being in her viewpoint because it's presented by an external voice focused on what's happening in the scene they're visualizing. You, the narrator, are reporting what happens from the viewpoint of someone watching the film version. You tell the reader what happens, and then explain the significance.
Think of yourself being in her position, in her moment of "now." A puff of air causes you to turn, to find a stranger in the kitchen—a well dressed and attractive woman. Jenn would evaluate the woman very differently than you do in the scene. For example, she wouldn't compare their height because it's irrelevant to what's happening. Her first decision-making would focus on deciding
why she was there and how to respond. But she doesn't do that, as presented, so the viewpoint is yours, not hers. But...she's our protagonist. Right? It's her story. What interests her is what matters
because it's her story. You, though, focus on cinematic details, and talk about events and what can be seen. The only senses used are sound and sight. But in life don't we use all five? Aren't our decisions made based on the entirety of our perceptions and evaluations? Remember, she has to live the story in in real-time, and handle what comes at her as it comes. So, any time you stop the action, and leave her waiting politely for you to finish while you discuss the situation; anytime you step on stage to talk
about the scene and thigs she's ignoring, it's a POV break. The trick is that if it matters to the plot, to setting the scene meaningfully, or developing character, the way to keep it real is to give
her reason to notice and react. Anything else renders her a plot device, who sees what you want her to see, instead of what, in reality, would attract her attention enough to respond.
Think about it. You have her notice the woman. The reader expects her to respond, as they would in that situation. If, at that point, you stop the action, stride on stage, and talk
about the situation, why doesn't she ask you who you are, and why you're in her kitchen talking to invisible people?
Yes, I'm joking, but my point is that every time you, someone not either in the story or on the scene, talk to the reader you stop the scene-clock and kill any momentum that scene may have developed. Can that seem real to the reader?
Remember, storytelling on the stage is a performance art. How you tell a story—the vocal tricks of intensity, cadence, and more, plus facial expression, gesture and body language, etc. matter as much as what you say because half of human communication—the emotional half—takes place nonverbally. But is there nonverbal communication on the page? No. Can the reader know how you would read the words? No. And they can't guess until
after they learn what a given line says, but then it's too late.
Your character, Jenn, is unique. You've heard, I'm certain, the old saying that there are three sides to any domestic argument: Her side, his side, and what really happened. And that matters a great deal. Jenn will react to events based on
her background,
her needs and desires, and more. That's the result of her unique viewpoint. And because her viewpoint is unique, and it's her story, be it right or wrong, her viewpoint matters because how she perceives what has her attention is what leads her to act. And how can we have context for what she does, and commit to her emotionally enough to care what happens to her if we're not privy to that
as-we-read?
You, I, and everyone else, leave our public education years believing that writing is writing, and that we have that taken care of. We also believe that we've learned by doing, so far as our own reading. But were that true—were we taught the techniques we need, it stands to reason that teachers, who know writing better than do the students, would comprise the majority of new writers. But they don't.
As for reading fiction teaching us to write it, try this test on a dozen friends:
Ask them what's different about the first paragraph of each chapter in half or more of the fiction in the library. It's simple and obvious, and we've seen it all our lives. But not one in ten can tell you without looking. And if we miss something so obvious, will we have noticed the subtle things, like short-term scene goals, M/RU's, and scene and sequel? Those are things you'll find discussed early in most books on fiction-writing technique but not mentioned in our schooldays English or Creative Writing class.
I know this is hard to accept, especially given how hard you've worked on the story, and your writing in general. But doesn't it make sense that if we want to write like a pro we should know what the pro knows? Doesn't it make sense to invest a bit of time and a few coins on our writer's education? Given that the rejection rate is 99.9% it might pay to know what triggers a rejection in both the publisher's office and the bookstore.
I often suggest a reading of Dwight Swain's,
Techniques of the Selling Writer, an older book, but still the best I've found. You could do a lot worse than giving it a read. A few years ago I had someone pick up a copy, certain that the advice it gave was useless. His goal was to point out why it was. Instead, he ended up mentioning me on the dedication page of his first sale. And given that out of 236 reviews 186 are five star and the rest four, it might be worth a few minutes of your time.
Hope this helps