mmmmmmgmmmmmmmmmm
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- Nov 12, 2011
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Okay. So my story`s main character is Lily DeMontes. She`s a dancer studying at the Parisian Ballet Academy. I`m not sure on whether to do her story in third person or first. Tell me which version you like better! 
BTW, the third person version begins at the beginning. But the first person excerpt starts when she gets home to her mom. Please give me feedback, rate it, and tell me how to improve! Long, descriptive answers will land you best answer!
Third person:
“Ah, un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, sis, sept, huit!”
The heavy voice of the ballet instructor rang out through studio number twelve, bouncing off the mirrored walls and into the awaiting ears of the fifteen dancers in the studio. Three of the bunheads piqued to the center, launching into a combination on the floor. Pirouettes into chaines into arabesques, dancing like they were a part of the classical music spewing from the stereo.
All of the teenagers looked identical, clad in navy leotards and shell pink tights, their feet adorned in pointe shoes. Well, most of them. Lily DeMontes, being an exception, took the no-specific-dancewear-color rule as an advantage. Her pink dance skirt twirled around hips, and her wine red leo hugged her body. She spun into a series of fouttes. She was fast, she was unstoppable, she was-
“Lily!”
Done.
The three girls lowered their legs gracefully to the floor, two of them glaring daggers at Lily, who turned to face the instructor nervously.
“Oui, Madame?” she asked.
Madame Mondior's beady black eyes focused on her for just a second before she spoke. “Please come see me after class.”
Lily resisted the urge to sigh. She was fluent in French, though her teacher still insisted on speaking in English to her, as if she was too ungraceful and clunky to understand the language of love. Lily simply nodded, ignoring the tittering girls around her.
First person:
I think mom is starting to relapse.
As soon as I caught sight of her, I knew she hadn't been eating enough, and drinking too much. She still had the same blonde hair, and the same smile that made you feel like someone special. But her arms were even skinnier than they were six months ago. And as she hugged me, I could feel the bones in her back, like little wings. She even felt light, like those wings would just lift her off the ground anytime.
“Lily!” She smelled like spices, a sure sign she had been cooking. “Lily, how are you? Oh, I've missed you so much!”
She releases me, a wide smile on her face. “You've grown.”
I smile back. “Thanks, Mum. I really missed you, too.”
“And how have things been at the academy?”
Terrible. “Fine.”
“That's good, that's good. Listen, I was thinking that we could head over to the cafe? Grab a couple of coffees? Catch up on things?”
I nod. What else could I say. All the while, Madame's warning echoed in my head.
I ignored it.
Ten minutes later, we slip into a corner booth at 'The Coffee House'. All around us, people laugh and talk. It's loud, louder than I remembered Kriason being, like the whole town just raised its volume while I was gone. These days, it always seemed like everyone was having fun. Everyone but me.
“I'll have a chocolate donut,” I try.
I can feel mum's gaze over the top of her menu, giving me a wary look. Ballet dancers don't eat donuts. They eat salads and if they eat sweets, they throw them right back up again. At least, that's what they tell us to do at PBA. They measure you every morning, and I swear, the scale still freaks me out to this day.
“Lily, are you sure your diet will allow that?” she asks softly.
“Sure,” I chirp. “It's not like they'll know.”
“I know that, dear. But you have gained weight-”
“So? I don't have to eat like an anorexic person, do I?”
She was silent.
“It's just a donut, Mum. It can't hurt.” Like the way you're hurting yourself.
Finally, she nods. “Alright.”
I smile reassuringly at her, sneaking a quick glance at my legs underneath the table. They're thin, thin and skeleton-like.
Perfect.
I`m 12, BTW.
BTW, the third person version begins at the beginning. But the first person excerpt starts when she gets home to her mom. Please give me feedback, rate it, and tell me how to improve! Long, descriptive answers will land you best answer!
Third person:
“Ah, un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, sis, sept, huit!”
The heavy voice of the ballet instructor rang out through studio number twelve, bouncing off the mirrored walls and into the awaiting ears of the fifteen dancers in the studio. Three of the bunheads piqued to the center, launching into a combination on the floor. Pirouettes into chaines into arabesques, dancing like they were a part of the classical music spewing from the stereo.
All of the teenagers looked identical, clad in navy leotards and shell pink tights, their feet adorned in pointe shoes. Well, most of them. Lily DeMontes, being an exception, took the no-specific-dancewear-color rule as an advantage. Her pink dance skirt twirled around hips, and her wine red leo hugged her body. She spun into a series of fouttes. She was fast, she was unstoppable, she was-
“Lily!”
Done.
The three girls lowered their legs gracefully to the floor, two of them glaring daggers at Lily, who turned to face the instructor nervously.
“Oui, Madame?” she asked.
Madame Mondior's beady black eyes focused on her for just a second before she spoke. “Please come see me after class.”
Lily resisted the urge to sigh. She was fluent in French, though her teacher still insisted on speaking in English to her, as if she was too ungraceful and clunky to understand the language of love. Lily simply nodded, ignoring the tittering girls around her.
First person:
I think mom is starting to relapse.
As soon as I caught sight of her, I knew she hadn't been eating enough, and drinking too much. She still had the same blonde hair, and the same smile that made you feel like someone special. But her arms were even skinnier than they were six months ago. And as she hugged me, I could feel the bones in her back, like little wings. She even felt light, like those wings would just lift her off the ground anytime.
“Lily!” She smelled like spices, a sure sign she had been cooking. “Lily, how are you? Oh, I've missed you so much!”
She releases me, a wide smile on her face. “You've grown.”
I smile back. “Thanks, Mum. I really missed you, too.”
“And how have things been at the academy?”
Terrible. “Fine.”
“That's good, that's good. Listen, I was thinking that we could head over to the cafe? Grab a couple of coffees? Catch up on things?”
I nod. What else could I say. All the while, Madame's warning echoed in my head.
I ignored it.
Ten minutes later, we slip into a corner booth at 'The Coffee House'. All around us, people laugh and talk. It's loud, louder than I remembered Kriason being, like the whole town just raised its volume while I was gone. These days, it always seemed like everyone was having fun. Everyone but me.
“I'll have a chocolate donut,” I try.
I can feel mum's gaze over the top of her menu, giving me a wary look. Ballet dancers don't eat donuts. They eat salads and if they eat sweets, they throw them right back up again. At least, that's what they tell us to do at PBA. They measure you every morning, and I swear, the scale still freaks me out to this day.
“Lily, are you sure your diet will allow that?” she asks softly.
“Sure,” I chirp. “It's not like they'll know.”
“I know that, dear. But you have gained weight-”
“So? I don't have to eat like an anorexic person, do I?”
She was silent.
“It's just a donut, Mum. It can't hurt.” Like the way you're hurting yourself.
Finally, she nods. “Alright.”
I smile reassuringly at her, sneaking a quick glance at my legs underneath the table. They're thin, thin and skeleton-like.
Perfect.
I`m 12, BTW.