Here’s an example of how we will analyse a couple of pages of your text, to look in detail at your style, at how you create the right atmosphere and tell the story you want to tell…

Textual Analysis - (example extract)

I pushed the money back into my pocket and smiled at the sun cascading through the vast double doors that lead on to the street. do you need this geographical detail, what do you feel it's adding? 'OK fella, I'll sort it out.'

Paulie rarely beamed. He was like a similes should be used sparingly, really think about what it says about the subject, but more importantly whether the narrator/protagonist would be thinking this at this precise moment clapped out comedy writer who no longer found humour in anything and would merely nod when a joke cracked past him or I feel 'or' should be used even more sparingly - decide on which simile you most want to use and go for that one! also, 'clapped out' says most of what you want to say so you probably don't need the rest slip a sardonic grin into conversation for effect. He didn't break out in a big guffaw this time, but something twitched in his cheek that was more than a pose. 'Tonight?' He sounded tender, like a lover, then I would suggest avoiding the words 'then' and 'now' - why not sue 'before' here? he sneered back into his comfortable frame This is great, the way you've used 'sneered' metaphorically. 'Or are you too busy juicing up Katie?' so just tidy up this passage and I think it will become an engaging, descriptive passage, developing character and moving the story on now where I have put a line through words, I am suggesting a cut - see if these words add anything or where they take us: ask yourself, would the prose flow better without them?

Chapter 4

I waited for them in a busy pizza restaurant, gazing out of the towering windows at crowds bustling towards a tall, stone bridge that carried them to the towering careful, repeated word classical pillars of a vast Victorian railway station. would a Victorian station have 'classical pillars'? description needs to be accurate, it is all the reader has - use it well/accurately and the novel will come alive setting spring sun was so low in the sky that they seemed to be a student art project - silhouettes moving randomly against the glow of a rattling super 8 film projector. This is a very complex simile, and I have to wonder what it adds...and do student still use Super 8!? Assuming not, it makes the narrator sound older than he is - again remember description cuts two ways: it tells us what something looks like but also tells us about how the narrator/speaker sees something, tells us what words/images they choose to use Around me tables were picked out in a jumble of bulk buy spotlights, all fixed to a plastic bar that ran across the centre of the room I am suggesting you cut this - the bulk buy image works so well that this extra bit just clouds it. Some had missed their mark and I suggest a dash here just to avoid the repeated use of 'and' here and there customers at faux marble outposts were dipped into gloom. now this is great description! tells us where we are and tells us about our narrator's attitudes The darkened diners leaned closer in, elbows on the cool surface, forcing their heads into illuminated pools so their conversation might be blessed with the appropriate sheen. Are you aware that your narrator is viewing everything rather dyspeptically? It is very easy to slip into this tone - it's always easier to be critical than approving. But it means that our 'hero' becomes less likeable, less joyful. You need to keep an eye on this.

At the table in front of me sat a family of three. The father - or stepfather? - kept leaning back to rub his wife's shoulders and every now and then they would link hands under the table. again, you are telling us about how the narrator sees the world - why does he presume they are married!? in fact, they sound more like young lovers - maybe this is what you intend Their teenage daughter draped herself across her food with a sullen gothic full-lipped pout and refused to watch their flirting. Beside me I could hear a gang of shrieking after-work drinkers debating the merits of their colleagues as they soaked up a few hours of cheap wine with slices of carbohydrate and fistfuls of limp green salad.

'All I can say is, if you're going to manage yourself you should be doing a better job,' barked a girl with a fat, over made-up face, stroking her limp brown hair as she held forth to her cackling friends. 'I said to her, 'yeah, yeah, OK, I see it but I don't get it,' double quotation marks might be good here - for speech within speech and what could she say? I mean, what could she say?'

I was briefly curious - what had she said if there had been nothing she could say? - but the restaurant was crowded and noisy and we already know this her monologue dipped beneath the waves of clatter and chat so I never found out. I tried to return to my book, a battered paperback that I'd been reading in restaurants for years as I travelled alone or waited for friends. I'd long since forgotten the author's point, although he boxed off text in tiny chunks so I could absorb words almost at random without looking too alone and pathetic. has he really been reading the same book for years? if you intend this, what does it make the reader think of him?

In the end, as always, my eyes started drifting again. Everything was moving so rapidly it was impossible to stay on the page. The young staff looked harassed and unfriendly and they stepped between the outstretched feet and rudely placed bags with their heads down, avoiding waving hands and urgent faces. very nicely to the point They stopped only where they wanted to stop and went through the steps in the company issued service manual, sounding particularly careless when they came to tick the 'how is your meal?' box. for me, too angry, too dismissive

I was gaining darker looks by the second from their fretful faces, having colonised a table for three with an aggressive coat spreading strategy a good 20 minutes ago. Since then, I'd been sitting alone sipping my beer - which ate into their ideal table turnover rate. I could feel their disapproval and it made me shift uneasily as if trying to avoid a thousand angry faces. When Daisy pushed against the heavy glass door with her shoulder, I was so glad to see her that I rose to my feet and shouted 'Daisy!' across the restaurant. A look of alarm rippled across her face before settling into irritation. She frowned at me as she slalomed through the room, patting down an excitable puppy that doesn't know when to stop yapping. do you mean like she's patting down a puppy? Behind her, Becca's exasperation was etched deeper into her skin would 'face' be better here? and she started before she'd even sat down. no new para here: if it's Becca who's speaking, bring her dialogue into this para

'I don't know why we couldn't eat at home'

'Because it's nice. It's going out. Daisy loves it, don't you baby?'

'But we have to get the cab to detour so we can hardly stay.'

'Well, why couldn't you have brought your stuff here?'

'You never been skiing, Dave, have you?'

The end of the argument. The clincher. I've never been skiing. Clumpy doltish me, the man who takes guide books on holiday. I sighed slowly and raised my eyes, briefly catching the glance of a slim, dark- haired as before, would he really notice these descriptions at this moment? he might notice 'offhand' or 'irritable' but I don't see why he cares, right now, about his weight or hair colour! waiter who froze, then relented and walked over to the table.

'I don't know what I want, just a salad,' Becca ordered as usual. I smiled at Daisy and offered to split a Four Seasons, but she shrugged and said she wasn't hungry. In spite of myself I checked at her arms and face, measuring the flesh on her wrists and searching for signs of anorexia's tell tale down. She was at the age, and we were the type of family. It's always wise to be sure.

'OK, but really, how heavy is a pair of salopettes?'

'It's not just the salopettes, it's the boots, for instance…'

'Boots? Since when did you have ski boots?'

I am confused about who is speaking here - it never does any harm to make it clear: readers are glad of it and yet don't really notice it (or rather only notice it if it's missing)

'Since last week. If Daisy's going to take skiing seriously, she's going to need her own boots. You really can't trust the ones at the dry slopes, they ruin your ankles.'

'But, babe, I mean, how seriously does Daisy take skiing? I mean, when did she ever go to a dry slope?'this is good dialogue, really moves the story on - only 'babe' strikes a false note

'Very seriously, as it happens. And she's going to start going to dry slopes as soon as we get back. There's a weekly Saturday morning club at Milton Keynes she could join.'

'But Saturday mornings are when I take her to gym, aren't they?' I turned to Daisy but her gaze was fixed on the menu.

'You should order, Dad,' she didn't raise her eyes. powerful stuff, well described

I went for lasagne, and instantly regretted it, remembering that it had been heavy and rich last time and sat in my stomach for hours, needling and gurgling as I'd tried to go to sleep. To compensate I ordered a half bottle of red, knowing that Becca wouldn't drink before a flight.

'And I'll have a glass of Pinot Grigio,' she smiled with excessive fondness at the puzzled young waiter as he scribbled and turned, forgetting to try and sell us garlic bread or olives so great was his desire to get away. he still seems down on this place! now if this is a projection of his frame of mind, that's fine...but if it's your authorial dislike of such places....

We pushed conversation around with as much enthusiasm as our food for the next half an hour. I took instruction on the rubbish, the washing and the flowers. Becca feigned interest in the mounting crisis at work, although it didn't seem wise this is a very cold word to choose - do you want him to be this remote? to tell her absolutely everything.