Free CLIMAX Edit #4 goes to someone who asked if they could be anonymous. I don’t mind. Do you guys?
Setup
Elizabeth is under the control of a warlock who needs to get to her husband, the warlock hunter Anthony, in order to destroy him and complete his (the warlock) world domination. The warlock has summoned his forces of the elements and finally forced open the door to Anthony and Elizabeth’s house, their last defense.
Climax
If Elizabeth wasn’t going to close that door, Anthony would.
The wind whirled around her against the night. It whipped her long hair into his eyes. He threw his weight against the door. She threw up a hand and staggered back, but still didn’t speak. The door shuddered and lurched against him. He braced his foot against the wall and strained. Sweat poured down his face in the icy air. The door creaked ominously and inched toward him. He crushed his full weight into his shoulder, pushing back. The door creaked and groaned. The timbers cracked at the hinges. He began to weep helplessly. Tears poured down his face. His foot was squashing deeper into the triangle between the wall and the floor. And still he pushed. And shoved. And strained. The door wavered and paused. It was equally forced from both sides. It began to inch toward him again. He felt a socket give in his shoulder. It was over. He could never win. It was over.
Elizabeth rolled her lifeless eyes towards him. Then she staggered forward. She couldn’t bend her knees. She dropped her weight on him like a sack of cement. The door slammed shut.
Developmental Edit
Well, we’ve got tension, all right! Toe-to-toe struggle—that’s what readers like to see!
Can we tell what the premise of this story is? A warlock hunter triumphs over the efforts of a warlock to destroy him.
Do we know what the implications of that triumph are? Since Anthony is described as a warlock hunter, I’m assuming it’s either Anthony or warlock. If the warlock can’t destroy Anthony, I’m guessing Anthony’s got the warlock by the scalp.
Now, this is an interesting example of the use of short sentences to create tension. But it’s easy to over-do. I’ve broken that up a little to keep the reader from becoming acclimated to the short sentences and hence immune to the tension. Yank them forward: yank, yank. Reel them out a little. Yank them back in again. Yank, yank. That keeps the reader off balance, while hypnotizing them deeper and deeper into your fictional dream.
There are two instances of “threw” pretty close together, so I replace one with “put” to avoid the repetition. There are also two instances of “creaked” pretty close together.
I’m also going to suggest you beware of accidentally sounding a comedic note. “Squashing” is an inherently funny word. “Like a sack of cement” is an inherently funny metaphor. I’ve replaced “squash” with “force” and dropped the sack of cement altogether in order to keep the tone dark and threatening all the way.
Copy & Line Edit
If Elizabeth wasn’t going to close that door, Anthony was.
The wind whirled around her out of the night, whipping her long hair into his eyes as he threw his weight against the door. She staggered back, but didn’t speak. The door shuddered and lurched against him. He braced his foot against the wall and strained, as sweat poured down his face in the icy air. He crushed his full weight into his shoulder, pushing back. The door creaked and groaned ominously. The timbers cracked at the hinges. He began to weep helplessly. Tears poured down his face, while his foot was forced deeper and deeper into the triangle between the wall and floor. And still he pushed. And shoved. And strained. The door wavered and paused. It began to inch toward him again. He felt a socket give in his shoulder. It was over. He could never win. It was over—
Elizabeth rolled her lifeless eyes toward him and stumbled forward on stiff knees. She dropped her weight against him.
The door slammed shut.