am i a good writer, please read this is not the whole thing but the begining of a book?

Mizz Kitty

I opened my eyes after two minutes of the persistent buzzing sound of my alarm. I decided that it was annoying enough to muster up the ambition to sit up and turn it off. I eventually clicked it off, with my eyes still closed, I then laid back down in my sleep-warm bed. I must have fallen back asleep because, my mom came in and rudely turned the light on, saying,
âUgh! Babette Louise Zeller! Get your butt out of that bed,â
âBut mom! Why?â I replied sleepily.
âYou know that today is Sunday, we have church today, oh
by the way we are riding the motorcycle,â
âI really donât want to go to church today, mom,â
âPlease come with me honey, Iâm sorry that I yelled, youâve just been sleeping for an extra half hour,â
âItâs ok mom. But do I still have to go,â
âYes Bette, you do, I mean, what if this was the last time we ever got to go to church. I really want you to come, please,â
âOk mom, Iâll come,â
My mom smiled, âthank you,â she said.
I smiled back, and dragged myself up out of the bed.
I couldnât decide what to wear, mom really needed to do laundry, I settled on a maroon turtleneck with a teal tank top on top, and jeans. I also pulled on my boots. It was a nice enough day, humid, but thatâs just Missouri. I brushed my black cornsilk hair, and parted it into two segments. I then I took one of the pieces in my hand and sectioned it in to three bits and went on to slip the piece on the far left onto the piece in the middle section and then take the piece on the right and I placed it on the piece that started out on the left. I continued this until I had a long braid that trailed to my waist, I repeated this on the other side of my head. I now had two long braids, my mom said that this was my Indian look. I twisted the two pieces together and slid the leather hair cover that I had for the days that we rode the motorcycle.
âIâm ready mom,â I told her as I sat down in the den.
âOk, honey, Iâll be there in a minute,â she replied, her voice echoed in the hallway. I called my cat up onto my lap,
âHey there, Suki,â I said to the kitten as I petted her in between her shoulder blades, she purred and jumped down.
I fell back asleep in the leather recliner.
âCome on sugâ time to go,â my mom said as she ran her fingers down my shoulder and patted my hand.
âHmm?â I asked with one brown eye open.
âLetâs go,â
âOk,â
I got out of the chair and walked down to the garage, I grabbed my iPod and then placed the earbuds in my ears, and turned it on. I put my helmet, my vest, and finally my gloves. We boarded the bike and left. The 20-minute ride to church was relaxing; I listened to my iPod, now playing a Justin Timberlake song.

Our church was a little church, a simple structure, no fancy architecture, just a cozy little church, with three classrooms in the right wing that was off to side of the sanctuary. There was a kitchen and a large meeting room on the left wing, the sanctuary was in the center. We entered the sanctuary and said hello to the old people. I must say that we were the most controversial members of the church. In a town with a population of only 978, only 76 people that attended our church, we were the only bikers.
After only two minutes or so of the pastor preaching, the tremors began, they were just the aftershocks from the earthquake that we experienced about 4 days ago. We all gasped and even the preacher was silent. I saw that he was holding the golden cross that hung from his chest.
Then the lights went out.
My friend, Jeannie was in the bathroom, I figured that she was probably scared, so I went to check on her, I was scared that she had had a seizure because she had epilepsy, and flickering lights triggered it.
âMom, I think Jeannie is in the bathroom, and Iâm going to check on her, ok,â I said to my mom who was shuddering.
âOk, ji-ju-just b-be s-afeâ my mom replied.
I ran out of the sanctuary, âJeannie!â I yelled.
I went to the bathroom door, it was locked, I rapped at the door with my middle finger,
âJeannie!â I called to her. I called and called, but no answer.
If I get an e-mail address, I will send each new chapter, as it comes
It is also just the rough draft, so lay off.

Answer
Okay as a published writer and screenwriter let me see if I can help. First of all I would say it gets your attention, it holds you and it leaves you wanting to know what is going to happen next. The second thing is not as flattering since I would say it feels rushed, (perhaps by the context of which you had to post) but the flow is not quite right. Third thing I would say the fix is easier than you might think. What are you reading? In other words, you read what you enjoy reading so I will presume you are writing what you enjoy writing.

Compare the style. Now some writers have a hard time of realizing they are TONE DEAF and cannot see the difference in their writing and their favorite author. I constantly get compared to my favorite and I am never surprised by that.

That said, the secret to good writing really is GREAT READING. Good luck and see you at the top!

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Title Post: am i a good writer, please read this is not the whole thing but the begining of a book?
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