The glowing numbers on the clock proclaimed I had been awake for three hours now. Three hours that I had laid in bed (grammar), wishing sleep would come-willing to count every sheep in the shed if it would help. (cute end to sentence) Nada. Nothing. (new paragraph) I hated laying there staring at the ceiling and feeling guilty that I wasn’t asleep. Why guilty? Was there some law that said I had to be asleep at some predetermined time? I guess it was mostly because (passive voice) my mother had drilled that idea into my brain: if you weren’t sleeping during the night, you were up to no good. Along with that, I always knew I would feel tired in the morning and wish I had slept. But it never helped. At least it didn’t tonight. (new paragraph) I groaned and rolled over, burying my head under my pillow, trying to block out the numbers which seemed to imprint themselves on my closed eyelids. This latest bout of insomnia was due no doubt to the anxiety I felt over moving. It was my least favorite occupation --moving. Let alone the choice I had made this time. It was one thing to move from one apartment to another, but to move from one state to another was a whole different ball game.
Critique: Needs tightening. Too passive. Too meandering. Like the last paragraph, not being able to sleep and mother issues are both universal problems that could be built upon. But where are we going with this? What type of book is this? I'm not getting enough information yet.
Would I ask for more? No.
Note to everyone: These last two paragraphs are examples of good "chick-lit" ideas that haven't taken off yet. They are first draft level writing that need a lot of work. But, they have potential because we can recognize ourselves in them. When you speak to feelings and issues that most of us have had, you have the beginnings of something that could have wide appeal. If you build in some uniqueness, let us into the speaker's minds and hearts, then you might have something.