how do you like my teen novel so far?

Question

check additional details for the first chapter.

I looked out the window of my mother's Mercedes, expecting to find something new. But no, I saw field, after field, after field of corn. Don't get me wrong, I love my vegetables, but something tells me I was making a bad decision. And it was getting awfully repetetive.
Finally, after traveling planes, trains, and automobiles, my mother pulled into my aunt's driveway. "About time." I muttered.
As my mom took the key out of the ignition, my obnoxious Aunt Marcy ran out of her house. I could hear her excited yells, but I tried my best to drown them out.
"Make sure you get the Louis Vuitton's out of the trunk Anna Marie," she tossed the keys on my lap. "I'm going to have a talk with your aunt." She slammed the door, hard.
I stared at the keys for a moment. Not for any reason. I was just spacing out. I do that pretty often. My mind is constantly wandering aimlessly. No, I don't have ADD. I guess it's just my personality. The way I am.

The diamond on my right hand gleamed as I reached for the door knob, as I let my leather Prada boots crunch across the gravel, as I opened the trunk of the car, revealing thousands of dollars wasted on designer luggage.
I looked up, and realized for the first time that I wasn't in Woodland Hills anymore. Everything was different. The people, the homes, the stores, gosh, even the sky was different. The sun hid behind thick layers of grey clouds, which looked like they were about to spew buckets of rain. No longer was it that clear, beautiful blue.
"Anna Marie," my mother barked. "Come here and see your Aunt. We don't have much time for sentiments and introductions. I have an important client in Chicago that I'm meeting, and you know how I hate those airport security lines."
"Hold on." I grimaced, trying to lift one of the Louis Vuittons. What did my mom pack for me? It must have weighed at least fifty pounds.

Mother walked over in her trademark sophisticated walk. Her shoes too, crunched against the gravel. Only hers were in a perfect rhythm. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
I watched as she lifted not one, but two of the luggages, glared at me, and did her trademark walk up the driveway again. "Anna Marie needs to stick to her workout plan and diet. Make sure she finishes her summer school work, and don't try to make her converse with the people," She snarled as she said this word. "around here. But you shouldn't have a problem with that, Anna Marie's never been the social type."
"Oh, Kate, you worry too much. Relax. Annie will be just fine with me."
"Anna Marie." I corrected.
Aunt Marcy chuckled. "I've called you Annie since you were a baby. I don't think I need to be corrected." She turned to my mother. "Kate, you better get going..."
It was too late. My mother was already inching her way to her Mercedes. "Pick you up August 27th" She muttered.
"Farewell!" Aunt Marcy waved.

I finally took a moment to look her up a down.
She was a large, beefy woman with wild blonde curls. She wore a purple muumuu that she must have gotten in Goodwill, paired with neon orange (think traffic cones) high-tops.
I should have hopped into that Mercedes while I still had a chance.

There wasn't much in Aunt Marcy's house that might have hinted she was the least bit strange. It was a somewhat new house, maybe five or ten years old. Her taste in decor was what my mother might call "middle-class." I kind of liked it; it was something new, something different.
"Do you like your coffee with or without cream Annie?"
"I don't like coffee." I said as I thumbed through the latest issue of Couture Monthly.
"Oh, Annie, you need to put down that magazine for once. That's your mom's job. Don't let it interfere with your life."

I glanced up at Aunt Marcy, who was now dumping out my cup of coffee, and then back down at my magazine. It's true, I'd been obsessed with Couture Monthly as long as I can remember. After all, my mom was the editor-in chief. Although we live in Orange County, she was constantly flying to New York and other fashion capitals to work on the magazine. Infact, I hardly ever saw her at our Woodland Hills mansion. Julia, my nanny took care of me.
Recently, Julia was diagnosed with breast cancer, so she had to go through chemotherapy. My mother was a nervous wreck, I mean, keeping up the world's most prominent fashion magazine and raising a teenager is a pretty hard thing to do. Of course, my mother doesn't do well under pressure, and she always ends up dumping all her problems with me on someone. That someone used to be Julia, now it's Aunt Marcy.

I'm only staying up here until August 27th, unless my mother can't find another nanny. If she can't I'm going to have to go to school here. Yeah, it sounds like it sucks, but I don't really care. I don't have any friends back in the hills. Well, that is, any true friends. All the people that act like they like me only want to get their hands on my Hermes scarf, my Marc Jacobs bags, or my Prada boots. The friendships that I've had throughout my life consist of designer labels and money.
I've been waiting for a long time for that certain friend that can see through the money and know the real me; the kind of friend I can go to the movies or teepee a house with. That kind of stuff only happens in movies though. And movies are never real. Neither is television. Or reality television for that matter. It's all fabricated.
"Annie, should I introduce you to the neighbors? There's plenty of kids your age around here. I think you'd enjoy them."

Sure. I guess that'd be fine." I muttered. I was now reading an article debating cherrywood and oak. Couture Monthly recently added a "Home & Decor" section.
"Marvelous!" She exclaimed. "It's raining outside though. I guess I better get my rainboots on so we could go meet them now."
"Right now?!" I looked up and around, but she was already upstairs.

Answer 1

It's not so much your novel content that caught my eye, but the constant misuse of punctuation, quotation marks, and lack of appropriately placed commas.

Seek a good reference book having concise and complete rules on punctuation and follow them exactly. Further, there are frequent misspellings that you should have caught before posting your sample on this forum.

Purchase a copy of "The Elements of Style" by Strunk and White; it is an invaluable tool for the novice and accomplished writer.

One ending note: Never use more than one exclamation point or one question mark at the end of any sentence. If your sentence seems to be more dramatic or of action, end it with an exclamation point.

I wish you success in your writing.

Answer 2

depraved attractive - Mellisa Marr Fragile Eternity - Mellisa Marr Wings - Aprilynne Pike Evernight - Claudia gray Stargazer - Claudia gray Hourglass - Claudia gray Spells - Aprilynne Pike (out in 1st might) Twilight Saga - Stephanie Meyer The computing device - Nicholas Sparks Borrowed gentle - Anne Finberg in all probability all i understand

Answer 3

It's really very interesting, there were a few parts that might need some patching up but overall it's very good. Can't wait to read more.

Answer 4

good. A few parts are slightly repetetive, but it kept my attention>:)

Answer 5

i love it an i want to hear more. thank now you have gotten me adicted to the story. please send me more of the story trough my profile

Answer 6

Sensational!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!