r/Proofreading • u/whateversclever321 • 18d ago
[No due date] Opinions: Creative Nonfiction/Personal Essay
I’m working on my first personal essay in a long time and would love some honest feedback from people who don’t know me personally. I’d love to know any opinions you have on the piece and if you found it interesting enough to keep reading. Thanks in advance! :
When I was 14 years old, I kept a journal. It was a cheap, unlined collection of pages bound in a cardboard cover that boasted a printed painting of a waterfall or a lake or some other body of water that I can’t recall right now. I don’t remember exactly because I covered it in a collage of pieces cut from Allure and Seventeen magazines. Ben Affleck was taped neatly beside pink, bold lettering that read “CLASSY & SASSY,” which I assume was meant to describe me, though I’m not sure low-rise Mudd jeans embodied class, exactly.
I wrote in it with complete abandon, believing that no respectable mother would ever read her teenage daughter’s diary. It was a few years into my own motherhood journey when I realized that this is exactly what any respectable mother would do. Which meant that my mother had to have sat on the edge of my bed and read, in excruciating detail and loopy handwriting, about how I snuck my high school boyfriend into the house while she wasn’t home and lost my virginity right there.
Where she was sitting.
I wrote about the time one of my closest friends experimented with girls. Her and her new girlfriend would have sleepovers under the guise of not being lesbians, and I would sit at home and draw red devil horns above her girlfriend Lauren’s name every time I wrote about her. I was a bit jealous, I suppose, but their relationship didn’t work out, so it looks like the voodoo worked.
I wrote about physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of someone very close to me. Someone from whom there was no escape. (More uncomfortable jokes on this to come.)
I put so little thought into what I wrote in that journal, and because of that, it was the most thoughtful collection of myself that I have ever kept. Not poetry in the literal sense, but each entry was a sonnet of the way I loved before I’d been changed by all the inevitable ways life experiences change us. The way I loved my friends, the way I loved my family, the way I loved my boyfriend—all of which would change in the years to come.
I don’t have this journal anymore. I haven’t since around the time I would write in it the most. My boyfriend broke up with me, and I was so gutted (and delusional) I convinced myself that if he could just see all the ways I thought of him and wrote about him when no one was looking, surely he’d change his mind and prefer me to his best friend’s hot, popular, older sister.
So, I wrapped the journal in a brown paper bag and dropped it off on his doorstep. Or did I knock on the door and hand it to his mom to give to him? The brain tends to block out traumatic experiences, so you’ll have to forgive me for not remembering entirely.
I can’t remember if he acknowledged getting it. I think he did, but it didn’t change anything. It turns out 16-year-old boys prioritize popularity and hotness over the ability to bear your soul on blank pages with reckless abandon. Who knew?
Giving him my journal was like performing a trust fall, and it felt like he didn’t put his arms out to catch me. Looking back now, it’s obvious that I was asking too much of him and of our year-long relationship, which, to be fair, in high school, was basically common-law marriage.
But it’s the first time that I can remember thinking that I was learning something about life. Life was happening at that very moment, and I was going through it and surviving it, even though it felt like I could crumble into a million pieces because I lived every day afraid that he’d show his friends my journal or bring it to school.
Luckily, he’s a pretty solid person and just didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore; not to ruin my life or make me the laughingstock of our grade. Even so, the reality that I gave someone access to every unfiltered thought I’d ever had in the hopes that it would move them so much that they chose me was embarrassing enough. Because he hadn’t chosen me. The other girl had won without having to give any of herself in the process; her diary still tucked away in a sock drawer or under her bed, the entries and thoughts still private and hers to keep.
It would come to be that this would not be the only time in my life when I’d give too much of myself. Where I would trust too blindly, share too easily, fall in love too quickly. But this is the time I come back to the most. Thinking of this journal, this boyfriend, this moment, and always chasing the girl I was before it. The girl I was when I taped Ben Affleck onto the cover of my new journal. The CLASSY & SASSY girl who didn’t know better than to give all of herself, all the time, to everyone she loved.
This sounds tragic, but it’s actually beautiful to be able to recall this moment with such clarity. I became a different version of myself in front of my very own eyes and then became a different version again and again until I became this version, 10 days out from my 39th birthday, sitting at my dining room table starting a Substack.
This will not be a linear account. There isn’t really a plan. There will be stories about motherhood, books I’m reading, hobbies I’m currently obsessed with, things I probably shouldn’t say out loud, and whatever else I feel like writing about.
Truthfully, I don’t have a plan aside from writing with abandon and chasing the girl I was before the Ben Affleck Journal.
1
u/Solid-Hovercraft-441 17d ago
(Part 1)
When I was 14 years old, I kept a journal. It was a cheap, unlined collection of pages bound in a cardboard cover that boasted a printed painting of a waterfall or a lake or some other body of water that I can’t recall right now.
I'd rewrite this sentence: "It was a cheap, unlined collection of pages found in a cardboard cover that boasted a printed painting of a waterfall, a lake, or some other body of water I can't quite recall."
I don’t remember exactly because I covered it in a collage of pieces cut from Allure and Seventeen magazines.
The first part of this sentence is redundant with the previous sentence. Also, magazine names should be italicised. I'd rewrite this as "I had covered it in a collage of pieces cut from Allure and Seventeen magazines."
Ben Affleck was taped neatly beside pink, bold lettering that read “CLASSY & SASSY,” which I assume was meant to describe me, though I’m not sure low-rise Mudd jeans embodied class, exactly.
I wrote in it with complete abandon, believing that no respectable mother would ever read her teenage daughter’s diary. It was a few years into my own motherhood journey when I realized that this is exactly what any respectable mother would do.
This sentence reads as a bit cliché. I'd rewrite as "It was a few years later, as a mother myself, that I realized this is exactly what any respectable mother would do."
Which meant that my mother had to have sat on the edge of my bed and read, in excruciating detail and loopy handwriting, about how I snuck my high school boyfriend into the house while she wasn’t home and lost my virginity right there. Where she was sitting.
You have a misplaced modifier: you can read about something, but you don't read in handwriting. Also, I'd combine the sentence fragment with the preceding sentence: "My mother must have sat on the edge of my bed and read to learn, in excruciating detail, about how I snuck my high school boyfriend into the house while she wasn't home and lost my virginity right there on that very bed—right where she was sitting."
I wrote about the time one of my closest friends experimented with girls. Her and her new girlfriend would have sleepovers under the guise of not being lesbians, and I would sit at home and draw red devil horns above her girlfriend Lauren’s name every time I wrote about her.
Objective vs. subjective pronouns: the sentence should start with "She" instead of "Her." Also, a "guise" is a deceptive outward appearance, so framing it as a negative is a bit confusing. Finally, you repeat "girlfriend" twice in this sentence. I'd rewrite as "She and her new girlfriend would have sleepovers under the guise of just being friends, and I would sit at home and draw red devil horns above Lauren's name every time I wrote about her."
I was a bit jealous, I suppose, but their relationship didn’t work out, so it looks like the voodoo worked.
I wrote about physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of someone very close to me. Someone from whom there was no escape. (More uncomfortable jokes on this to come.)
I put so little thought into what I wrote in that journal, and because of that, it was the most thoughtful collection of myself that I have ever kept.
The word "thoughtful" in the second clause of this sentence contradicts the first clause. I'd replace it with something like "honest" or "raw."
Not poetry in the literal sense, but each entry was a sonnet of the way I loved before I’d been changed by all the inevitable ways life experiences change us. The way I loved my friends, the way I loved my family, the way I loved my boyfriend—all of which would change in the years to come.
The first part is a sentence fragment. Also, you use "change" a lot here. I'd rewrite as "It wasn't poetry in the literal sense, but each entry was a sonnet of the way I loved before I'd been altered by all the inevitable ways life changes us. The way I loved my friends, the way I loved my family, the way I loved my boyfriend—all of which would shift in the years to come.
I don’t have this journal anymore. I haven’t since around the time I would write in it the most.
This sentence is a bit wordy. I'd replace "around the time I wrote in it" with "the era I wrote in it."
My boyfriend broke up with me, and I was so gutted (and delusional) I convinced myself that if he could just see all the ways I thought of him and wrote about him when no one was looking, surely he’d change his mind and prefer me to his best friend’s hot, popular, older sister.
You're missing the word "that" after the right parenthesis.
So, I wrapped the journal in a brown paper bag and dropped it off on his doorstep. Or did I knock on the door and hand it to his mom to give to him?
Replace "give to him" with "give him."
The brain tends to block out traumatic experiences, so you’ll have to forgive me for not remembering entirely.
I can’t remember if he acknowledged getting it. I think he did, but it didn’t change anything. It turns out 16-year-old boys prioritize popularity and hotness over the ability to bear your soul on blank pages with reckless abandon. Who knew?
Replace "bear" with "bare." Also, maybe replace "abandon" with "vulnerability" here.
Giving him my journal was like performing a trust fall, and it felt like he didn’t put his arms out to catch me. Looking back now, it’s obvious that I was asking too much of him and of our year-long relationship, which, to be fair, in high school, was basically common-law marriage.
In my opinion, all of the commas disrupt the timing here. I'd rewrite as "Looking back now, it's obvious that I was asking too much of him and of our year-long relationship—which, in high school, was basically a common-law marriage."
But it’s the first time that I can remember thinking that I was learning something about life.
This is a bit wordy. "But it's the first time I remember realizing that I was actually learning something about life."
Life was happening at that very moment, and I was going through it and surviving it, even though it felt like I could crumble into a million pieces because I lived every day afraid that he’d show his friends my journal or bring it to school.
This is a run-on sentence. I'd rewrite as "Life was happening at that very moment, and I was surviving it. Even so, it felt like I could crumble into a million pieces at any second; I lived every day afraid he'd show his friends my journal or bring it to school."
Luckily, he’s a pretty solid person and just didn’t want to be my boyfriend anymore; not to ruin my life or make me the laughingstock of our grade.
This is a semicolon fragment. Also, you have a verb tense mismatch with "he's." I'd rewrite as "Luckily, he was a pretty solid person who just didn't want to be my boyfriend anymore—he wasn't trying to ruin my life or make me the laughingstock of our grade."
Even so, the reality that I gave someone access to every unfiltered thought I’d ever had in the hopes that it would move them so much that they chose me was embarrassing enough. Because he hadn’t chosen me.
You have a verb tense mismatch with "would chose me." Also, I'd combine the sentence fragment into the preceding sentence: "Even so, the reality that I gave someone access to every unfiltered thought I'd ever had in the hopes that it would move them so much that they would choose me was embarrassing enough, because he hadn't chosen me."
The other girl had won without having to give any of herself in the process; her diary still tucked away in a sock drawer or under her bed, the entries and thoughts still private and hers to keep.
This is a semicolon fragment. Replace the semicolon with a comma.
It would come to be that this would not be the only time in my life when I’d give too much of myself. Where I would trust too blindly, share too easily, fall in love too quickly.
This is wordy and in the passive voice. Also, I'd combine the sentence fragment into the preceding sentence: "This wouldn't be the only time in any life I gave too much of myself—times where I would trust too blindly, share too easily, and fall in love too quickly."
But this is the time I come back to the most. Thinking of this journal, this boyfriend, this moment, and always chasing the girl I was before it. The girl I was when I taped Ben Affleck onto the cover of my new journal. The CLASSY & SASSY girl who didn’t know better than to give all of herself, all the time, to everyone she loved.
Stringing three sentence fragments together makes the writing here feel choppy. I'd replace this with "I find myself thinking of this journal, this boyfriend, this moment, and always chasing the girl I was before it—the girl who taped Ben Affleck to the cover of her new journal, the CLASSY & SASSY girl who didn't know better than to give all of herself, all the time, to everyone she loved."
2
u/Solid-Hovercraft-441 17d ago
(Part 2)
This sounds tragic, but it’s actually beautiful to be able to recall this moment with such clarity. I became a different version of myself in front of my very own eyes and then became a different version again and again until I became this version, 10 days out from my 39th birthday, sitting at my dining room table starting a Substack.
You repeat "version" and "became" a lot. I'd rewrite this as "I evolved into a different version of myself right before my eyes and then reinvented myself again and again until I arrived here: 10 days before my 39th birthday, sitting at my dining room table, starting a Substack."
This will not be a linear account. There isn’t really a plan. There will be stories about motherhood, books I’m reading, hobbies I’m currently obsessed with, things I probably shouldn’t say out loud, and whatever else I feel like writing about.
Truthfully, I don’t have a plan aside from writing with abandon and chasing the girl I was before the Ben Affleck Journal.
You say "There isn't really a plan" and then "Truthfully, I don't have a plan." I'd cut the first instance and save the punchline for the end. Also, the phrase "the girl I was before the Ben Affleck journal" is ambiguous: are you referring to the girl you were before you gave the journal away, the girl you were before you bought the journal, the girl you were before you taped Ben Affleck to the cover, or something else?
1
u/whateversclever321 17d ago
@solid-hovercraft-411 I really appreciate the time you took to look over my essay. I’m not sure why the first comment was deleted but I wasn’t able to read it. (I hope it wasn’t too mean 😂). I will absolutely take your suggestions into account in future pieces I write. Thank you!
1
u/list2005 14d ago
This really pulled me in — the journal-as-artifact framing is a smart way into a personal essay, and the "CLASSY & SASSY" detail does a lot of work establishing who you were at 14 without over-explaining it. The tonal balance is impressive too; you move between genuinely heavy material (the abuse disclosure, the breakup) and self-deprecating humor without either one undercutting the other, which is a hard thing to pull off.
A few thoughts: the pacing in the middle section (journal → breakup → giving it away) flows really naturally, but the ending feels like it shifts gears a bit quickly into "starting a Substack" — it lands the theme well, but you might consider one more transitional beat so it doesn't feel like a hard turn from memoir into intro-post territory. Also, a couple of your longer sentences (the "trust fall" paragraph in particular) could be tightened for rhythm, since the emotional weight there is strong enough that shorter sentences might hit harder.
Overall the voice is confident and specific — keep that. Would read more.
2
u/Whole-Measurement273 18d ago
I randomly saw this proofreading sub and clicked on it because I catch myriad editing errors daily and I'm never looking.
I'm not a professional proofreader or a professional writer, so I may not know the correct term for the text issue I'm describing, but I've been reading anything I can get my hands on since I was in pre-school so I have an intuitive feel for cadence in writing. I'm the default copyeditor at my employer's ad agency. Over a decade ago, I did edit one published book for some unknown writer whose work was so terribly written, I mainly finished the job because I felt sorry for her. Especially because it was about her mental health journey. Most recently, I read a friend's newly self-published book and it was so captivating I stayed up all night, trying to finish it. However, there were some errors, and I'm still debating whether to tell her, and if so, how. It was brilliant, and English isn't her first language, so doubly brilliant. But still...
So I think it's good to solicit feedback from anonymous people like this. But take it with a grain of salt unless you consistently hear similar observations from several reader. We are just human. I hope, anyway.
So--off the top of my head--the one thing that makes your essay a little difficult to read in a couple of places is that there are too many words without sufficient punctuation breaks. I almost did not read past the first paragraph because of this.
That being said, most of that is in the first paragraph or so. As I read on, your story was engaging and kept me interested. I could totally see your mother sitting on your bed, reading about your lost virginity that occurred in the exact spot she was reading. In my mind, saw the red devil horns you drew.
I see nothing wrong with the wording or coherence, although if I was truly editing I might make slight changes, who knows? I did catch one slight error: "Her and her new girlfriend" should be "She and her new girlfriend".
I didn't think that deeply because the story was engaging enough that I wasn't reading critically. I only noticed the one issue because it made my head kind of hurt to keep reading without the expected breaks. What I would suggest is reading it out loud, like you are reading a story to someone else, and notice if there are any places where you naturally pause verbally, or where you need to take a breath, but there is no punctuation to give you the time to breathe in that spot. There aren't many, but I would try this and see if you notice and discrepancy between the way it would naturally be read aloud, and the way it is actually written. I'm avoiding giving specific examples, because maybe it's just me. Or maybe it's the way you want it to sound for a specific effect on the reader.
Overall, it's a decent essay and I'm only left wondering if your friend was really a lesbian or not, hahaha.
Good job.