Last week’s post about critiquing opening lines generated a fascinating — and holy crap, robust — fusillade of comments back and forth, which is exciting to see.
So, let’s do it again.
Or, something similar, at least.
What I want you to to do is to grab a paragraph — hopefully a shorter one, but that’s your call — and offer up that paragraph for critique. Drop it into the comments, and let folks talk about what would make it stronger — in terms of description, metaphor, clarity of language, characterization, what-have-you and blah blah blah.
You can grab something from your current WIP.
Or, if so inclined, write something new.
One paragraph only.
If you’re offering up a paragraph for critique, it’s only fair you offer commentary to someone else.
Be respectful of others. Say good things as well as bad.
Let’s do it.
Kyra Dune says:
This is from my epic fantasy WIP
Manny looked down. Narrow bands of sunlight striped his brown skin, accentuating the long scar which started above his brow and ended at his jawline. Shadows seemed to gather in the puckered hollow where his left eye used to be. “I hear.” His soft voice floated down to them alongside the dust motes.
April 21, 2014 — 1:43 PM
SAM says:
My reply became a separate comment below. Not sure why.
April 21, 2014 — 2:01 PM
Jon says:
I am confused – it reads as if Manny can see the sunlight on his own face and can see the scar there? Try as I can, I can’t see my own chin by looking down…
the “seemed to” weakens what is otherwise a strong image of the eye socket.
Should “I hear” be a new paragraph?
And with the voice, I’m lost again – whose voice, who are “them?”
I like the imagery and word usage, but I’m having a lot of trouble setting this scene in my head. Of course it’s part of a larger Thing, but I believe every paragraph should make at least some sense on its own, even in the absence of context.
April 21, 2014 — 3:23 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
I really like your writing style, Kyra; descriptive without being over-flowery. I do agree with what Jon said though about it sounding like Manny can see the shadows on his own face – IF Manny is the POV character in this paragraph. If he isn’t, that might be what needs clarifying. (Although equally the fact that it’s just a single paragraph may be what’s muddying the waters…)
I also agree with Jon’s comment about the ‘seemed to’ in this extract. Very often a sentence can be strengthened by cutting out words and phrases like ‘seemed to,’ ‘almost,’ ‘nearly’ and the like. Us writers often use these when we’re not entirely confident with how we’re expressing something to our readers; i.e. “shadows aren’t ACTUALLY gathering in his hollow eye socket, ’cause that would be weird, but I’m worried you might take it literally unless I put the ‘seemed to’ in there…” It can be a hard habit to break, but once you start banishing those words from your narrator prose its… blimmin liberating! 🙂
You’ve definitely made me curious with this one though. I’d like to read more.
April 21, 2014 — 4:06 PM
tedra says:
I agree with Jon about your paragraph. You had me at the “narrow bands of sunlight” i think that’s pretty imagery. It also makes the scene dark and foreboding, which I love. Who is speaking and what characters are in this scene should be addressed. Otherwise we think its just whose mentioned. Is the sunlight strips someone’s shadow? Are the shadows in his eye socket real or imagined? Is he waiting for someone? The point of the paragraph is not established.
April 21, 2014 — 9:32 PM
cindysprigg says:
“where his left eye used to be” would that read better “where his left eye had been”?
April 21, 2014 — 11:41 PM
Ryan C says:
Love the image. I agree with many of the comments below. I’d like to know where the bands of sunlight are coming from to help give me a sense of location, but I realize I’m reading this out of context.
I agree with Jon – I’d go with “Shadows gathered in the puckered hollow” – it’s more decisive. You probably don’t need ‘soft’ before voice — the fact that it floated down implies that it was soft without telling us. Not sure what ‘dust motes’ are, but I’m sure it makes sense in the context of the larger work.
The last line is a touch confusing. Something about the word ‘alongside’ relative to the sound. I guess it’s because it’s not clear to me if ‘them’ (the people he’s talking to) are alongside the dust motes – as in the dust motes are where they’re located. Or if the sound was what floated alongside the dust motes – as in the dust motes were somehow a vehicle for the sound.
April 24, 2014 — 5:30 PM
mockingbirdblues says:
The opening paragraph from my WWII era extremely-a-work-in-progress (*cough* which can be found here, if you’re interested *cough* http://figment.com/books/752533-Mockingbird)
“She woke at the first knock, a warning shot before the front door fell to a battery of fists. Shouts twisted up the stairs, snarling in a sharp language grimly unlike the gentle turr of Laima Soulis’ native tongue. The hall light illuminated a sliver of open space beneath her bedroom door and the quick drum of sprinting feet warned her to stay in bed. The front door opened in a whoosh of bruised silence. Voices, rough with war and barbed prejudice dragged themselves through the house, the Russian words invading and scorching the earth behind them. A second, lighter set of footsteps scrambled down the stairs and not long after, a third pair of feet darted past Laima’s bedroom, rushing to defend their home. Laima twisted in on herself, praying she would wake up.”
April 21, 2014 — 1:55 PM
Kyra Dune says:
Nice, vivid imagery. However the last line ‘praying she would wake up’ contradicts the first ‘she woke at the first knock’.
April 21, 2014 — 2:19 PM
Katherine Hetzel says:
Perhaps the second reference to waking up is because the implication is that Laima wishes it were a nightmare? That’s how I read it. Perhaps just to add ‘from this waking nightmare’ is all it needs to clarify?
April 21, 2014 — 3:50 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
I interpreted this (the waking thing) the way Katherine did. My issue was with the feet rushing to defend their home. I’d describe the sounds (as you have up to that point) without trying to spell out the implication.
April 21, 2014 — 4:03 PM
Beth Bishop says:
I have the same concern about her waking but not being awake. Also, can voice “drag?” Probably, but that sounds like an odd verb to me.
April 21, 2014 — 7:36 PM
tedra says:
This is cool but, Laima can’t see the front door fall. Seeing the footsteps was good but you have to remember that she’s in bed scared so her imagination should be going wild. It read as a list of whats happening instead. I didn’t get a scared vibe from her. I didn’t get her age in any of this either.
April 21, 2014 — 9:38 PM
SAM says:
I really like this, especially where you describe the missing eye. I got a little hung up between his dialogue and the last sentence. It flows better using a comma after hear and a lower case his, or you could reverse the two lines, too.
His voice floated down to them alongside the dust motes.
“I hear.”
The dialogue should be on a separate line from the rest of the paragraph.
I want to know what he hears!
April 21, 2014 — 1:58 PM
SAM says:
This was meant for Kyra Dune. Not sure why it didn’t work as a reply to hers.
April 21, 2014 — 2:00 PM
Kyra Dune says:
Thank you.
April 21, 2014 — 2:22 PM
Jon says:
I haven’t posted here in forever; this seems as good a place to come back as any. This paragraph comes mid-(short) story.
The gathering darkness shrouds the knife rack, but Alan knows exactly where it is and what it holds. He rises on shaky legs, clenches his fists as he passes the knives, staggers into the nursery. Gold and green all washed to shadow, the smell of feces, the sound of Tee still whimpering in his restless sleep.
April 21, 2014 — 2:10 PM
Kyra Dune says:
Great imagery. Pulled me right into the scene and made me want to know more. Good job.
April 21, 2014 — 2:26 PM
Jon says:
Thanks!
April 21, 2014 — 4:23 PM
SAM says:
The imagery is fantastic but that last sentence seems to be a fragment. What’s gold and green? Is there a tense shift here also?
April 21, 2014 — 3:59 PM
Jon says:
Thanks, Sam!
Fragment, definitely – but intentional. It’s part of a whole philosophy of writing; while I know my grammar stuff very well (by sight if not by name), I’ll gleefully violate it for an effect. Here the effect I was going for was Alan’s out-of-it, rather fragmented experience; he doesn’t have concrete images going into the nursery (which is painted gold and green), because he’s lost a number of hours that he hadn’t expected to lose. So I’m trying to recreate his experience in words; hopefully for most readers it carries, particularly in context.
No tense shift — though I always have to watch out for those, particularly in present-tense stories. As far as I know, one can use past in a present sentence if the thing-in-the-present is affected by the thing-in-the-past. Think: “I run on, my feet beaten to hamburger by the miles behind me.” (Or: “He wears nothing but acid-washed jeans and a broad smile.” Apart from the fashion violation, the washing-with-acid occurred prior to of the current wearing.)
I hope this didn’t come off as defensive, just explaining the decisions to a) hear myself talk, b) make sure I still believed in them, and c) help if others face similar choices 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 4:32 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
Loved it. The fragment doesn’t really bother me, the intent is clear.
April 21, 2014 — 5:21 PM
Jon says:
Thanks, David!
April 21, 2014 — 8:41 PM
Beth Bishop says:
I was going to remark about the gold and green, too. Maybe add “wall” in there. Fragments don’t bother me. I was right there with him.
April 21, 2014 — 7:39 PM
Jon says:
One’s an outlier, two’s the start of a trend. Thanks for the input!
April 21, 2014 — 8:41 PM
tedra says:
I really like your paragraph. It make me curious about your story. I totally got the, “green and gold”. Good job.
April 21, 2014 — 9:47 PM
Jon says:
Thanks, Tedra! And thanks for the vote in the other direction, too :).
April 21, 2014 — 11:32 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
A little sci-fi guy I’m working on.
Wide realization was replaced by disbelief, but the horror never left Justin’s eyes. He had done everything right, but now the uselessness that welled up inside him made him shake. His hands opened and closed on nothing, and his shoulders sagged. He had lost. So much pain and he was lost. He choked out the words through pressed teeth, “I don’t fucking believe this.”
April 21, 2014 — 2:43 PM
Mike W. says:
This is pretty good…very intense. I can almost feel Justin’s defeat. You could probably drop the word “wide” at the beginning without losing anything. I’d maybe say “clenched teeth” instead of “pressed”…just a personal choice. I’m wondering about the short sentence “he had lost”…you could maybe cut it without losing too much impact, since you mention him being lost in the next sentence too. Just a thought 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 3:38 PM
SAM says:
You could easily turn this into action. “His hands opened and closed on nothing. His shoulders sagged. He had been defeated. So much pain and he was lost.” I agree that clenched is smoother than pressed, but the imagery is a little different. Clenching involves a movement of the jaw that pressing doesn’t, so you may want to revisit that line.
You definitely grabbed my attention!
April 21, 2014 — 4:08 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
Yeah, I have a problem with ‘wide realization’ too, as well as uselessness considered as an emotion. Maybe ‘sense of uselessness’? I would combine ‘He had lost’ and the next sentence, separated by a semicolon or an em dash.
“He choked out the words” bugs me as well. I understand what you are trying to say, but I think you’re trapped between ‘he choked on the words’ and ‘he [some other verb]-ed out the words.
April 21, 2014 — 5:24 PM
Jacob Quarterman says:
Thanks Mike, Sam, and David! The “wide” has to go, I need to make it less passive, and the last sentence bugs me too. It never really felt right to me, and now I can see why. I gotta go write. Thanks again!
April 21, 2014 — 6:57 PM
tedra says:
I think you can combine the last two sentences with something like, “so much pain he chocked out the words.” That way you can get rid of the he lost part because its telling not showing. The “uselessness that welled”, that sentence could be revised. I think you mean that since his experiment failed, he fills useless. That emotion could be clearer then you wouldn’t nees to explain, he was lost.
April 21, 2014 — 9:56 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Hello! This from a work in progress….steampunk in nature…
Pure, clean rain poured in rivulets, dripping from his hair into his eyes, its cold fingers slipping down his bare back and under his waistband where frigid water ought not be allowed to go. Ciaran gasped awake, finding his hands clenched white on the marble balustrade on his balcony. Lightning flashed, searing a brief glimpse of the courtyard below and the falls beyond it into his eyes as the thunder rolled over him. He stood a moment, head bowed, breathing in the heady scent of rain on sunbaked stone that had not seen water in a good month, and listening to the slap of droplets against the paned-glass door thrown open behind him.
April 21, 2014 — 3:01 PM
Katherine Hetzel says:
Nice. Only thing that jarred for me was the reference to gasping awake with hands clasped on the balustrade – is Ciaran asleep standing up? Perhaps consider switching the first two sentences? Course – I’m judging that in isolation; what comes before might make things a bit clearer…
April 21, 2014 — 3:54 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Thank you very much…that was going to be the first sentence of the book, so I’ll definitely have to streamline. He’s waking from a nightmare and a bit of sleepwalking…
April 21, 2014 — 10:39 PM
Curtis Edmonds (@Curtis_Edmonds) says:
This is just me, but if I wake up, and I’m out on the balcony (assuming I had a balcony) and it was raining, and my clothes were all wet, and there was a door open behind me, I’d go inside as soon as I could and change clothes.
April 21, 2014 — 3:57 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Good point that…should probably have him move a bit sooner…thank you!
April 21, 2014 — 10:40 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
Liked it. Though ‘…where frigid water ought not be allowed to go’ seems out of place and jokey.
April 21, 2014 — 5:26 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Thanks For spotting that one! Sometimes my snark sneaks into my narration before I figure out what happened. I’ll get rid of that part of the sentence. Much appreciated!
April 21, 2014 — 10:44 PM
Paul B says:
Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel you need the first sentence. I’d go straight in with “Ciaran gasped away, finding his hands…” and then you can go through there. It feels like a lot of weather description for the sake of it. Also, if Ciaran isn’t awake, he’d be unlikely to be aware of the rain, and unless you’re doing third person omniscient, it doesn’t really work for me.
I do really like the language though, and there’s a good voice going on here. And enough has happened in this paragraph to make me want to read the next (which is all it needs to really, isn’t it?)
Good job, I’d just reconsider the opening line.
April 21, 2014 — 6:04 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Thank You! This is the first paragraph of the story, so I want it to be the best it can be… I’ll move it around and fiddle a bit then repost…
April 21, 2014 — 10:46 PM
Beth Bishop says:
I like this imagery. I have a clear idea of what he sees and feels. I would replace “Pure” with “Frigid” and drop “where frigid water ought no be allowed to go.” That is awkward, to me. The sentence that begins with “Lightning flashed” I would rephrase a bit by moving “into his eyes” after searing or just write “searing his eyes with a glimpse…”
April 21, 2014 — 8:02 PM
tedra says:
Hi. I agree with Paul about the weather description. Also in the first sentence the its, you mean the rain and that should clearer. I automatically thought of like some robot going in his pants. You have lots of imagery, that’s cool because that’s your style but i found myself reading over some of the words. It was just a lot of words.
I love that he wakes up on the balcony. I mean why is his life so bad that he’s sleepy walking? Why is he so used to it? Love it.
April 21, 2014 — 10:05 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Thank you everybody for the help! Hope I addressed everything… Let’s try this for round two:
Ciaran gasped awake at the cold fingers of rain pouring in rivulets, dripping from his hair into his eyes, slipping down his bare back and under his waistband. His hands clenched so hard on the balustrade that they matched the white marble balcony. Lightning flashed, searing his eyes with a brief glimpse of the courtyard below and the falls beyond it. Thunder rolled over him seconds later. He stood still a moment, head bowed, breathing in the heady scent of rain on sunbaked stone that had not seen water in a good month, and listening to the slap of droplets against the paned-glass door thrown open behind him. Nightmare. Must have been.
The “nightmare. Must have been.” is supposed to be italics…
Any better?
April 21, 2014 — 11:13 PM
tedra says:
Think of the order of the rain. It cant go from his hair to his eyes then to his back and underwear. Other than that, I have to say that I liked the other one better. Something is just off about this second try and I mean that without offense. I keep reading it but I can’t pinpoint it. Maybe someone else can figure it out. Maybe the first had more voice. Idk
April 22, 2014 — 1:54 AM
Paul B says:
For me, it needs tightening. Words can be dropped, shortened, simplified.
A little chopping tightens this up…
“Thunder rolled over him. He stood for a moment, head bowed, breathing in the scene of rain on sunbaked stone. Behind him, droplets slapped against the open glass door.
A nightmare. Must have been.”
I dunno…maybe I’m wrong…this is just how I would do it. I’m not saying it’s wrong or right…just how I’d do it.
April 22, 2014 — 12:06 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
I’ll chip away some more when I get home and try v 3.0. Thanks for all the help!
April 22, 2014 — 1:10 PM
Moya says:
Thanks for the opportunity. WIP is paranormal-historical-time-travel for New Adults. . .
Marisi was furious again. “You think I’m mad! You think I’m imagining all those things!” She shouted, “Well think about this then!” As she spoke, the cross-ply tyres of their car rose off the road, and the car itself revolved slowly upside down. Marisi had never been so scared. She had no idea how she’d done it. It took all her concentration. She had no capacity to think about her grandmother except to assume that she was mindlessly scared into silence. They either screamed or were silent, that’s how her ‘ability’ affected the few people she’d been caught with. That’s why it came as a shock when her grandmother’s voice reached her, saying calmly
“Excellent control Marisi. Can you put it back down just as carefully?”
The car plunged toward the ground still wheels-up; Marisi’s terrified screams ringing through the interior.
April 21, 2014 — 3:17 PM
Mike W. says:
This is cool…sounds like Marisi is telekinetic. You could probably cut the exclamation points in Marisi’s dialogue; we know she’s furious, so the exclamation points are kind of redundant. (When I read Elmore Leonard’s advice about not using exclamation points, I went through my entire manuscript and cut dozens of them!) You probably don’t need the adverb “calmly” on the grandmother’s dialogue tag; you could just say “…her grandmother’s calm voice reached her” instead. And I’d change the semi-colon in the last sentence to a comma. Overall, it sounds pretty good.
April 21, 2014 — 3:49 PM
Moya says:
Hi, This is great critique – thank you! I will look and see if I like it without the exclamation marks – but you are right about the calmly – thanks so much.
April 22, 2014 — 2:10 AM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
I think the semicolon is correct as both of those would be complete sentences. If anything use a period instead, but I like the semicolon as they are related.
As far as the exclamation points go, they don’t bother me, though I would add question marks after the first two. If anything it’s the “Marisi was furious again”, as that’s telling rather than showing something that’s made clear by the exclamation points in the dialogue.
April 21, 2014 — 5:29 PM
Moya says:
Hi David, thanks so much for the critique – the ‘furious again’ is because it’s a fragment of a scene where Marisi is having a bout of teenage hormones. – It fits in the scene because she’s alternating between weepy contrition and rage. As you do. Great critique and much appreciated.
April 22, 2014 — 2:13 AM
Saxon Kennedy says:
This is really good, but I was confused that you said it took all of her concentration, but she didn’t know she had done it. I think you would notice if you were concentrating on something, wouldn’t you?
April 21, 2014 — 6:07 PM
Moya says:
Hey Saxon, thank you – I was trying to suggest that she has abilities, but is unclear on the outcome. She knew something was going to happen, but not what. Clearly I didn’t get that across – do you have any suggestions for a better way to communicate this? Thanks again for the critique.
April 22, 2014 — 2:15 AM
Jon says:
Good stuff here, have you considered making it more than one paragraph? That will help a little.
Other things to think about:
Paragraph unity: Each paragraph should be about one thing.
“Camera” location. In this sample, our “camera” moves from:
a) Inside the narrator’s head (“Marisi was furious again…then!”)
b) An outside vantage capable of seeing the car rise
c) Back to Inside the narrator’s head (“Marisi had never … carefully”)
d) Back to outside vantage – “The car plunged..”
e) Inside the car (“…ringing through the interior”)
In multiple paragraphs, with good transitions, this can work fine, but we’re just hopping all over here.
Tell-then-show: “Marisi was furious again.” And then she shouts something, which shows us that she’s really mad. So the first “show” isn’t necessary.
Tell-no-show: While there’s nothing wrong with some Tell, when we’re in a place of extreme emotional upheaval, many readers enjoy being closer to the narrative. Rather than the narrator filtering everything for the reader, which necessarily distances the reader in the same way that a friend’s telling you about a car accident distances you further than if you’d seen the accident for yourself, which even distances you from being in the accident yourself. Most readers like to feel like they’re in the accident themselves, only they can pick up and walk away at the end injury free.
Sometimes that narrative distance and filtering is useful and even necessary–it’s a great tool if you know the effect it has and choose to employ it. But it’s not as effective at conveying things that should have immediate emotional impact.
Dialog: Marisi’s dialog felt written to me rather than spoken. Minor tinkering may help that.
Hope this helps!
April 22, 2014 — 12:44 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Oooh… slightly more scary than just the first line! Well, I’m-a ready for whatever comes me way…
From my current w-i-p, (the same one as my previous first line came from) this paragraph is near the end of the action in this particular scene, but it’s the one that works best (or possibly ‘least worst’) as a stand-alone paragraph for the purposes of this exercise. If that makes any sense. Anyway, here it is:
‘The Enforcer army is intact, standing silently in a carpet of dead ghetto rebels slumped over the sidewalks like broken dolls. Some of the corpses have their necks at crazy angles – snapped by a single, violent twist of an Enforcer’s arm – while others stare empty-eyed into the blood pooling underneath their battered bodies. Without a word or even a glance passing between them, the Enforcers pick up the corpses – one under each arm, as if they weigh nothing at all – and dump them into a single, bleeding heap in the middle of the road. Their faces are emotionless as they build their little mountain of the dead, like they’re doing nothing more than taking out the trash. The only sounds are the drumbeat of boots and the wet thump of flesh hitting flesh, until the job is done. Then the Enforcers line up in a perfect square, and as they march out of sight down the street I hear the voice of the invisible person again…’
….aaaaannnd what that person says is in the next paragraph. I wanted to put it in, but that would be Breaking The Rules, so I didn’t. I can be a good girl sometimes 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 3:25 PM
Curtis Edmonds (@Curtis_Edmonds) says:
I think that if you’re trying to convey that the killers are emotionless, you want to cut the “broken dolls” simile. It doesn’t add anything much.
April 21, 2014 — 4:00 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
That’s a good point – especially since I have the sentences that follow to do the job anyway. I’ve looked at it so many times I guess I stopped seeing it for the redundancy it is – thanks for catching it for me 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 4:12 PM
Beth Bishop says:
I might replace “crazy” angles with something like “unnatural.” I think you could also cut out “like they’re doing nothing more than taking out the trash.” From the rest of the description, it sounds like that is exactly what they are doing. You have conveyed how little they care very well.
April 21, 2014 — 8:08 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Thanks for the feedback, Beth – it’s good to have people who can look at these lines with an unbiased eye (as opposed to me with my unbiased ones 😉 ) I’ve got a bit of a tough balance to strike; the story is narrated in first-person POV by a girl who was originally from the ghetto herself, which means I have to try and get my point across descriptively but without using words that someone from the ghetto would’ve been unlikely to use in her everyday life. Still working out the kinks as I go. Thanks for the heads-up – I’ll be looking at this paragraph again I think 🙂
April 22, 2014 — 3:12 AM
tedra says:
I think the other pretty much summed it up. Sounds like a cool story.
April 21, 2014 — 10:11 PM
Jon says:
I like what’s here but would re-order and intensify. I’d also spread it across multiple paragraphs. If it were mine. Which it isn’t. 🙂
For me the most evocative element that’s here is the sound. I’d actually bring that up front, maybe lead with it, and depict it on the page – not just the narrator’s summary of it, but the sounds themselves as s/he experiences them. In other words, not:
“The only sounds are…”
but rather
“Boots beat against the ground in perfect unison, the only variation the surface upon which they are stomped. The dry clack of hard concrete. The muted thump of dead flesh. The wet squelch of puddled blood.
The next most evocative element for me is the mountain of the dead. I want to see the specifics of a particular Enforcer climbing the mountain to drop another body on top, or see and hear the way the boyd lands when it’s simply tossed it onto the pile.
So from the sounds I’d go to a particular Enforcer doing his job, and then I’d maybe back up to the army of them. But until I got to that army–or what the POV character can see of the army from his/her perspective–I’d strongly consider keeping it all immediate and out of the summary voice. (This of course assumes a ground-level POV character. If s/he’s at a high vantage point it changes things, but I didn’t get the sense of that from this paragraph.)
This is a repellent scene (in a good way). So as a reader I want to be repelled by it. By removing it to this narrative view, it’s just something that happened. I don’t feel whatever the narrator is feeling.
April 22, 2014 — 3:48 PM
Norma Parfitt says:
I really like most of this BUT
the sudden insertion of ‘I hear the voice…’ at the end shouldn’t be there, it stops the flow. Can you put it in the next paragraph?
Also there are 4 repetitions of ‘Enforcers’, I’m guessing they’ve not just magically appeared so maybe you could use an alternative designation like ‘troops’ ‘the company’ ‘alien monsters’ sometimes????
Sorry to be picky.
April 23, 2014 — 8:32 AM
cajetane says:
‘Got something, Captain,’ he said into his comms unit. ‘Looks like, looks like a dead ‘un sir.’
After the slightest pause, Sam Chang came back. ‘Confirm, Tag. Run a commentary, if you please.’
“Yessir. Approaching body from the south east. Body is facing north, just…laid out in the scrub. Low scrub, scattered trees in this quadrant. There’s a – there’s a cloud of insects of some sort, hovering over it…but, but nothing’s on the body itself. Body is naked.’ Tag swallowed and stopped for a moment, his laser heavy in his arms. He wished he could wipe away the sweat that stung in his eyes and slid down behind his ears. He crept closer, sweeping the nose of his laser in steady arcs around the clearing.
April 21, 2014 — 3:29 PM
Mike W. says:
This is pretty good…I can feel Tag’s apprehension as he approaches the scene. The repetition of the word “scrub” seems a little off to me…maybe change the first instance to something else? Some of the dialogue is a bit hard to read…it’s realistic to the way people actually talk, but sometimes too much realism can be a little harder to read. Some of the hesitation and tics in the dialogue could maybe be smoothed out a bit, just to make it a little smoother to the ear.
April 21, 2014 — 4:02 PM
cajetane says:
Thanks Mike 🙂 I do love to stack the speech tics in there. Good pick up. Cheers!
April 21, 2014 — 4:23 PM
Pat says:
I REALLY want to read more of this. You pulled me right into the action. I like the dialogue. it feels authentic, tics and all. I also like that it could be from any time frame until the reader gets to “laser”. Nice work. Looking forward to reading this when you publish.
April 22, 2014 — 4:00 PM
Jessica says:
Oh dear. All right. Yikes.
From BookThing, whose first line(s) were put up before. End of first chapter, intrepid protagonist + friend going scavenging in the sewers.
“They gripped the bars, tugging. With a squeal of protest, the grate pulled away from its moorings, a shower of iron shards and crumbling mortar falling to the ground below. Rowan let out a surprised, satisfied laugh. “Well. If all life was that easy, I’d be rich as the General and three times as good looking, instead of just twice.” He hopped up, perching on the edge of the sewer pipe, and reached down for Anise. “Shall we?” Anise grinned in return, taking his hand and climbing up behind him. They carefully set the grate back in place, turned, and sighed in unison. Rowan wrinkled his nose.
“The smell gets worse every time, don’t it.””
April 21, 2014 — 3:30 PM
Mike W. says:
I like it…Rowan seems like a bit of a rake (or maybe just full of himself). I don’t really see anything to complain about here 🙂 Sounds pretty good, overall.
April 21, 2014 — 4:09 PM
Jessica says:
Oh good! Rowan’s supposed to be a lovable little shit. 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 4:11 PM
Jon says:
I like this!
It does seem like there’s more than one paragraph’s worth of things going on here — there’s a break maybe wanted at “Rowan let..” and another at “Anise grinned”, but that would require a bit of rewrite to make it work. But I think it would strengthen things a bit.
Some minor sentence-level strengthening:
> They gripped…tugging
If they’re tugging, they’re obviously gripping. So this is a bit redundant. Instead, maybe here’s a chance to build in some physical sensation, e.g.:
> > Anise tugged on the iron bars, tiny teeth of rust digging into her fingers.
> With…falling to the ground below.
Showers always fall, so “a shower of” is probably redundant. “Falling” is a little bit of a yawny verb, and “ground” doesn’t seem like a thing that would be underneath a sewer grate.
> Roan let out .. laugh.
If he’s as cocky as he seems, “let out” doesn’t seem the appropriate word here — might something more triumphant, like “crowed”, be more appropriate?
> He hopped up…
Wait. If they’re pulling out a rusted-in grate, I’d expect them to be standing on top of the entrance pulling up. The leverage seems all wrong otherwise. (FWIW, the image on my head with “hopped up” was that the entrance was two-three feet raised from the surrounding ground)
> …setting the grate back in place
Okay, context will clear this up, but here’s my read on what I’m seeing here:
a) They’re standing next to a sewer grate, pulling up on it.
b) The grate comes up.
c) They get up on the raised areas in which the grate was mounted
d) They descend into the sewer.
But the end of this makes it seem as if they aren’t going in – they just lifted it and set it back in place.
If that’s what was supposed to happen, then the piece is fine, but if they were supposed to get in, then I missed that here.
> turned, and sighed in unison
For me, there are one or two too many items in this chain of serial verbs.
All that said, I really dug the vibe of this. I think it’s pretty strong; I’d just like to see it strengthened with additional attention to the Little Details.
April 21, 2014 — 5:02 PM
Jessica says:
Ooh, lots of good observations. Thank you!
The order is actually
a) They’re standing next to a sewer grate, pulling out, like a stuck door.
b) The grate comes off.
c) They get up on the lip of the pipe, headed inside
d) They walk into the sewer.
The pipe is coming out of a sort of cliff face/fallen apart road, rather than a cover on the ground. Sort of like this http://assets.commpub.com/hiking/piney_creek/SpringPipe.jpg . It’s described in an earlier paragraph.
I really appreciate notations like “Instead, maybe here’s a chance to build in some physical sensation”; I tend to forget those and then do a bunch all at once.
April 21, 2014 — 5:20 PM
Jon says:
a) They’re standing next to a sewer grate, pulling out, like a stuck door.
Ah! That makes much more sense. And now you know where to clarify. 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 11:58 PM
Jon says:
FWIW, what gave me the top-down impression, I think, rereading it, is that the iron shards fall ‘down to the ground below”.
April 22, 2014 — 3:50 PM
Jessica says:
Referring to your reply there, yeah, I can see how directionals could be a bit troublesome when you don’t have the full picture at hand. If you thing everything is down and then things are falling down… eeesh. *edits furiously*
April 24, 2014 — 12:06 PM
Ericka Clay says:
No “yikes” about this – great read! I can see it, I can feel it, hell, I can even taste it. The line about the shower of iron shards I really do admire.
April 21, 2014 — 5:45 PM
Jessica says:
Mmmmm, sewer tasting.
Thanks! 🙂
April 24, 2014 — 12:06 PM
tedra says:
My only comment to add would be to work on tense. You seem to go back and forth between present and past tense. Maybe it’s just me. I’m still learning it as well because my current WIP is in present tense. But just be weary of it.
April 21, 2014 — 10:18 PM
Jessica says:
Could you give an example? I’m not meaning to be obtuse; I’m just confused as to where you’re referring.
April 24, 2014 — 12:08 PM
kmcambion says:
Opening paragraph for urban fantasy series.
I understood later that every human’s first memory is different. Demons too, I would guess, but I still don’t understand how their minds work. I also learned that the memories are not always clear, but a hazy collection of images and feelings.
Every angel’s first memory is of the same event, and mine is perfectly clear.
April 21, 2014 — 3:36 PM
Chel says:
I like this a lot. It makes me want to read more, and I think it has the just right tone for an opening paragraph. The cadence/rhythm is very nice, too.
April 21, 2014 — 9:46 PM
tedra says:
Oh that was really nice. I was confused at first but as i read on, the last sentence cleared up everything. I can’t wait to read your novel!
April 21, 2014 — 10:22 PM
springinkerl says:
Intriguing! I wanna know what that first memory of an angel is. And I like that the first para is so vague and the second instantly makes clear where the POV lies.
April 22, 2014 — 6:12 AM
Nikki says:
I’m wondering if you need that first paragraph? The second one is a real doozy, and if it’s the opening for a story, it’d catch the reader’s (and mine) attention immediately. But that first one seems like a placeholder for the second, a build-up, and I’m not sure it’s needed.
April 22, 2014 — 11:58 AM
Regina says:
I agree with Nikki on this one, the last line is a punch to the “ooh, shiny!” center of my brain, whereas the first few had me bored. I think they could be more interesting if they were a little shorter and choppier, something like “Each human’s first memory is different. Hazy collections of images and feelings. Probably the same for demons, not that I understand how their minds work.” Then boom, angels line.
But yeah. It pretty much could stand on its own for a first line.
April 22, 2014 — 1:10 PM
Teresa says:
This is great. I’d like to read more.
April 22, 2014 — 1:56 PM
kmcambion says:
Thank you. I apologize for the lateness of my reply; I’ve been out because of surgery.
May 4, 2014 — 7:22 AM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
From a story called ‘Piloerection’ about a superhero named Fleet. Someone’s trying to recruit him to betray his ultra-secret Justice-League-type organization and he’s tweaking to it..
“You know the comic book hero, Spider-man? Of course you do. He’s got that ‘Spidey sense’, right? You’ve got it too, and so do I: the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. They’re the leftover of an ancient biological defense system, puff your fur up so you look bigger to whatever threat has you tweaked. For us, they’re a thousand tiny sensors detecting subtle changes in the air. Something’s sneaking up on you. This guy wasn’t just some asshole in a bar.”
Rest at http://www.agincourtdb.com/2014/04/piloerection.html
April 21, 2014 — 3:56 PM
Mike W. says:
Hmmm, piloerection sounds vaguely smutty doesn’t it? But I guess it literally means “hair standing up”, so it fits. I like this (I’m a sucker for a good superhero story). The only nit I can pick is the comma between “…defense system” and “puff your fur…” seems like a bit of a comma splice. Maybe a semi-colon would work, or splitting it into two sentences?
April 21, 2014 — 4:14 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
Oh I do a *lot* of comma splicing as a style thing, un-apologetically. 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 5:34 PM
tedra says:
Made me laugh. Cool.
April 21, 2014 — 10:23 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Like this a lot; great voice, and the dialogue sounds natural. I’m wondering who “this guy” is now…
…and also trying not to interpret the title as ‘Pilo Erection,’ because that’s just VERY immature of me and I should be ashamed of myself… 😉
April 21, 2014 — 4:26 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
Yeah, I went back and forth on the title because of that, but it works so well both as a reference to his reaction there in the moment but overall for the overall plot that I had to use it.
April 21, 2014 — 5:35 PM
Mike W. says:
Okay, here goes nothing:
That night was cloudy, blocking the moonlight, but Galaxy Labs had its own lights around the perimeter of the grounds. Steve, Jim and Kathy crouched in some bushes outside the fence at the back of the complex, observing the guards. They had driven through the woods surrounding Galaxy, stashed their car out of sight, and proceeded on foot the rest of the way. They hunkered back into the shadows as a guard walked by. They watched him turn the corner and knew they had about six minutes before he returned. The three reporters ran out of the bushes as noiselessly as possible. Jim reached the fence first and tossed his leather jacket over the barbed wire stretching along the top. He climbed up and leaned on the wire, pushing it down against the fence top. Steve and Kathy made their way over the fence, the jacket protecting them from the sharp barbs. Jim followed, pulling the jacket after him and the three of them dashed to a nearby door. Jim fitted Willis’s keycard into the slot beside the door and watched the red light on the panel turn green. Steve tried the door, but it wouldn’t move. Kathy soon saw why.
“You idiot,” she hissed at Jim, “there’s another goddamn lock.”
April 21, 2014 — 4:17 PM
SAM says:
I like this, even though your first sentence starts out passive. A cloudy night would block the moonlight so it’s a little redundant as it is now (beautiful in description, though). You could easily fix that with something like “The clouds snuffed out the moonlight, but Galaxy Labs…” I’m also struggling a little trying to visualize Jim climbing up and leaning on the wire. How does he accomplish this without the jacket? Exactly how big is this jacket? Maybe it’s clearer in other paragraphs. I can tell you that I want to know why they are breaking in. It’s a well put together paragraph that makes me want to read the rest.
April 21, 2014 — 4:34 PM
Mike W. says:
Thanks for the critique. I hadn’t thought about the passivity of the first sentence, but now I probably will change it…maybe “Clouds obscured the moon…” or something along those lines. As for the jacket thing, he just tossed it over the three strands of barbed wire at the top of the chainlink fence; maybe I’ll have to clarify that a bit 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 8:49 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
You’ve definitely piqued my interest with this one; the sentences flow easily, which helps me to ‘see’ everything that’s going on as clear as if it was a movie in my head.
There’s only one thing that jars for me, and that’s the sentence that starts with “The three reporters…” If the reader is being given this information for the very first time at this point in the story I feel it’s rather a blunt way of doing it – could it not be done more subtly? If, however, the reader DOES already know Steve, Jim and Kathy are reporters – from earlier in the story than this paragraph, for example – well, do they need to be reminded at this point in time? Either way, I feel like “the reporters” reads a bit like a random info-dump. (Although I also realise that simply replacing the words with “they” instead creates the repetition problem of three “they”s in the space of two sentences. In that sense… sorry, I’m not helping much, am I?)
…It’s purely an opinion, which doesn’t make it right. I might just be being pedantic. 🙂 And perhaps if I were to read it within the context of the rest of the text I would feel differently.
April 21, 2014 — 4:53 PM
Mike W. says:
Thanks for the comment. Yeah, this takes place within the first quarter or so of the novel, but *after* we’ve met the three protagonists. In fact, the reason they’re at the facility is because they’re digging up dirt for a story. You’re right about having too many “they”‘s in a row and I didn’t want to repeat all three names again. I thought about saying “the trio”, but finally settled on “the reporters”. Maybe I’ll try some other alternatives.
April 21, 2014 — 8:54 PM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
This is good. I can feel the tension in the scene quite well. I can even get a sense of Kathy and Jim’s character just within this small paragraph. Very nice…
I didn’t notice all the “They’s” in a row until I read the other notes but when I went back and reread it, I see what you mean. I like the idea of using “the trio” instead of the three reporters.. the way it is sounds stiff, I think using “the trio” would fix that.
April 21, 2014 — 10:25 PM
Beth Bishop says:
I think if you just replace the first part of that first sentence with “Clouds blocked the moonlight, but…” this would be spot on.
April 23, 2014 — 8:29 PM
Carmen Piranha says:
A paragraph grabbed out of the middle of the first chapter of my first WIP.
When the ambulance arrived they found me unconscious, breathing and with a strong but slightly erratic heartbeat. I came around once on the ride to the hospital and vaguely remember one guy hunched over my face babbling something at me. I wondered how the hell he expected me to hear him when I had an oxygen mask strapped over my mouth and nose. Apparently I thought I heard through my nostrils, but it didn’t matter because I blacked out again before I even had a chance to laugh at him for being such an ignoramus.
April 21, 2014 — 4:37 PM
David Blackstone (@DavidWriting) says:
The point of view is problematic: your character is describing things some of which he/she couldn’t nave experienced consciously. Maybe this is cleared up outside of this fragment, but I thought I’d mention it. 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 5:37 PM
Alecia Miller says:
To build on David’s comment, that incongruity is actually what intrigues me with this paragraph. There must be more going on that we aren’t aware of. This would draw me in as a first paragraph.
April 22, 2014 — 3:13 PM
Kris says:
Super rough paragraph form last night’s writing marathon, no title yet but its sci-fi in nature.
The results on the blood weren’t really a shock for Ice, she’d known instinctively that Torvald had been telling the truth. It still sickened her to think of it, his blood was in her. His DNA. “Ah!” She gave a disgusted groan. She didn’t have much of her life from before. Most of her personal items had been abandoned on the Styx when she’d left. She had a picture, taken at her high school graduation, on her pad. The digital image sharp and clear. Her mother and father flanking her, beaming with pride and Jonathon was there beside Ivan, looking just as proud. The image brought tears to her eyes, it had been such a happy, good day. Bright sun, green fields…she’d had such bright hopes for her future. The smiling girl in the picture had no idea how dark and twisted her life would become, how dangerous and cruel the world was. She’d beamed at the camera, wide eyed and full of optimism. Ice traced her younger face. Where had that girl gone? She no longer even remembered those joyous dreams… Absently, she pulled her mother’s locket from her sweater pocket. Her talisman, the one last thing of home she possessed. She thought she’d known Rina, known who her mother was but now…everything was changed. Nothing was who or what she’d thought. She looked into her mother’s dark eyes. Who were you Mama? How on earth could you have been involved with that monster? How could he be my…bile rose in her throat.
April 21, 2014 — 5:39 PM
tedra says:
This sound more like a rough novel jacket than a paragraph from the novel. Its a lot of back story in that one paragraph. Back story should be limited one to two paragraphs through out your hold story.
April 21, 2014 — 10:32 PM
Teresa says:
Would this character specify that the image on her pad is digital? Or is that her normal? We don’t specify that an image on a phone or tablet is digital because it is something we all know.
Lots of backstory in one paragraph, but, as you said, this is the super rough result of a writing marathon, so I’m thinking of this as condensed thought that you will pull apart as you begin to form a more polished story.
Hooray for a writing marathon! Go, you!
April 22, 2014 — 1:53 PM
Ericka Clay says:
You do things out of love, I guess, but I also got this theory that you do them because there’s a story building. It starts when you’re born, cut out of your mother’s gut, pushed through her privates – what have you. And it continues, spiraling like yarn around a finger until you’re choked up into it, and you realize no matter how hard you pull, strain your muscles, maybe even break a bone to free a hand, that you are as much a part of it as it’s a part of you. But I’d never say this shit out loud. I’d get my ass kicked.
April 21, 2014 — 5:43 PM
Mike W. says:
This sounds pretty good…I can definitely hear the narrator’s voice.
April 21, 2014 — 9:23 PM
Ericka Clay says:
Thank you, Mike!
April 21, 2014 — 11:12 PM
tedra says:
Great voice! I got completely saw the character.
April 21, 2014 — 10:34 PM
Ericka Clay says:
Thanks, Tedra!
April 21, 2014 — 11:13 PM
Wendy Christopher says:
Wow… that’s a powerful start. The strong character voice and visceral imagery sets the tone perfectly – liking this one a lot!
April 22, 2014 — 2:57 AM
Ericka Clay says:
Awesome! Thank you so much, Wendy!
April 22, 2014 — 11:09 AM
Paul B says:
This is from a horror short story (possibly novella) that I’m working on at the moment…here goes…
Rebecca thought of the man who had stood outside the station and had given her the card with her name written on the back. It was still in her pocket, and all at once seemed to weigh a ton. Then she was thinking of Nick Aldridge and his wife, and how getting fifty thousand pounds from someone who didn’t really need it wasn’t as bad as murdering your wife to speed up a life insurance pay out. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, not when you put it like that.
April 21, 2014 — 5:50 PM
Mike W. says:
This is pretty good…makes me wonder about Rebecca and everything that’s going on with her. The only thing I find a little off is how you start with “Rebecca thought of the man…” and then later you say “Then she *was thinking* of Nick Aldridge…” Maybe change “was thinking…” to “*thought* of Nick Aldridge…” just so it matches up better.
April 21, 2014 — 9:21 PM
tedra says:
Hey, be weary of those, “had stood”, “had given”, and all those ands. Otherwise, i really want to know who Rebecca is and why she’s motivated to do what she does.
April 21, 2014 — 10:39 PM
Saxon Kennedy says:
This is from the WIP I used for the first line challenge, titled Necromance:
It had all come too fast. I had been at the top of the world and prancing over its people before I had blacked out. Now I was trapped in the rubble I had trampled. Her words sunk into my brain like a pit of hot lava, boring deep holes into my head. Dribbling onto my neck, so that I could feel its heat as bile rose in my throat. Crawling down my shoulders, so they drooped beneath its weight. Drawing meandering paths of red down my arms, so they trembled. And finally, the boiling liquid seeped into my chest, snaking into a rope around my lungs, until I couldn’t breathe.
April 21, 2014 — 6:09 PM
Mike W. says:
It’s certainly very evocative. The metaphor is good, but by the end it seems a little stretched. It definitely lets us know how the narrator is feeling though! I’m wondering if the word “seeped” in the last line shouldn’t be “seeping” so as to match all the other participles?
April 21, 2014 — 9:16 PM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
This is from my WIP – The Oyster King:
Time was now of the essence and he gathered his net, the oysters, and rake and waded towards the shore. The water was now up to the top of his thighs. It was much harder to walk back than he thought it would be, even as the tide pushed him forward. He felt as if he was wading through quicksand. He picked his leg up high trying to get it out of the water and take a step, it was nearly impossible to put one foot in front of the other and walk in the current. The waves crashed on his back and knocked him forward a few times causing him to stumble and fall face first into the ocean waters. He couldn’t believe he had stayed out this long; he had never done this before.
April 21, 2014 — 6:54 PM
Mike W. says:
This is good…I can almost feel the ocean crashing around me! You could maybe stick the word “but” after the comma between “…take a step” and “it was nearly impossible…” The phrase “ocean waters” in the second-last line feels a little redundant; you could probably use either of those words alone without losing anything.
April 21, 2014 — 9:29 PM
Shelly Tennyson Taylor says:
Thank you. I agree I can edit 10 times and still see things that need changed. It is redundant to use ocean waters.. I will pick one. And on the first maybe instead of adding a but, I can just make them 2 separate sentences.
April 21, 2014 — 10:08 PM
David Glynn says:
When people asked Larry Southern what he did he told them he was an independent news-gatherer. That the things you needed to make it in his profession were a dash-cam running 24/7, a digital camera, a police scanner, a laptop, a cigarette lighter/USB power source, a cell phone, and contacts. Oh, and one more thing: the ability to keep yourself alert at 4 a.m. without carrying around a bag of crank. Not unless you wanted to become your own story.
April 21, 2014 — 7:32 PM
Ben Dodge says:
Other than the addition of a few commas here and there, this is perfect. Love it. What is this from?
April 21, 2014 — 8:56 PM
David Glynn says:
Thanks for yr kind words. It’s from a work in progress, stalled at 92,000 words. Larry is an incidental character.
April 21, 2014 — 9:08 PM
Ben Dodge says:
Opening paragraph from a short story that’s currently a work in progress (working title is “Traces”):
“Nineteenth floor. Then onto the roof.”
The two lit smokes and huddled under a cheap patio overhang. Rain scoured the intersection at Elm and Liberty: set sedans to the curbside and drivers scuttling into the shelter of downtown bars. Slick condos and the spires of squat grey government offices evaporated somewhere between floors four and seven. The storm ripped apart the city, shivered the signals on hundreds of TV’s and radios inside thousands of bars and living rooms for a brief second. The two prayed for those signals to break for good.
April 21, 2014 — 8:38 PM
Mike W. says:
This sounds cool. I’m not sure about the colon after “Liberty”…would a comma work there, maybe? Other than that, it sounds pretty good…very urban, almost cyberpunkish (although I’m guessing it’s set in the present).
April 21, 2014 — 9:12 PM
Emilyjoy says:
Are the two on the roof? The first line made me think they were on the roof. I was picturing the city from the top down, and got confused when you said the buildings disappeared between floors four and seven, because that sounds like they are on the ground.
April 27, 2014 — 1:30 PM
Beth Bishop says:
Okay folks, here is my paragraph. This isn’t from a WIP but a dream I might develop into a novel. Often times, the hardest part of writing, for me, is coming up with the damned names of cities and characters:
For three days, we kept our eyes to the west, on the growing cloud of smoke. We knew it meant the Kreels had taken Oakhaven. In a day or so, they would reach the fields and then, the keep. “They can have it,” my father mumbled. No one argued with him. No one demanded he rally the troops to make one last stand against the enemy. They understood their king. They understood he suffered more loss than any man should endure, so they said nothing. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed us, and I, his daughter and the only child he had still living, shifted my bow over my shoulder and returned to my post. That night, the horizon glowed red.
April 21, 2014 — 8:43 PM
Mike W. says:
This is interesting. I like the way you set the scene. You could probably lose the comma between “hand” and “dismissed”; you could also maybe use dashes to set apart “his daughter and the only child he still had living” instead of the comma pair, but I guess that’s just a stylistic choice (I tend to use a *lot* of dashes 🙂 )
April 21, 2014 — 9:09 PM
David Glynn says:
I thought this was really good. I also thought it could do with some tightening. Following is what I would do, if it were mine: it’s easier to make my points this way, rather than listing them sentence by sentence. I hope you’re not offended by my liberties.
For three days, we kept our eyes to the west. The cloud of smoke kept growing. We knew it meant they had taken Oakhaven; in a day or so they would reach the fields, and then the keep. “They can have it,” my father said quietly. No one argued. No one demanded he rally the troops to make a final stand against the Kreels. They understood their king. They understood he had suffered more loss than any man should endure. So they said nothing.
He dismissed us with a wave of his hand. I shouldered my bow and returned to my post, his daughter and only living child. That night, the horizon glowed red.
April 21, 2014 — 9:37 PM
David Glynn says:
Reading back, I think the “so they said nothing” should run on, as your original did. Sorry.
April 21, 2014 — 9:40 PM
Jon says:
Strong!
Minor nitpicks:
> For three days, we kept
No comma needed here.
> growing cloud of smoke
Can you paint a slightly more vivid picture of this “growing cloud”? Instead of growing cloud, a shape or a direction it’s spreading or something that would help me paint the picture?
“We knew it meant” – probably unnecessary. Trimmed to “The Kreels had taken Oakhaven” it would be stronger.
In general, look out for vague words like “it”.
> …the fields, and then the keep <..so they said nothing
Is this phrase necessary? My gut says no.
I think your paragraph ends on that line. If it does end on that line, then “…so they said nothing” is actually a stronger ending point than if you’d omitted it. If you continue the paragraph, then I’d consider omitting it. But I think the paragraph ends there. The reason is that we move from a sort of continuous time (for three days…) to a specific moment in which the narrator is dismissed. If it ended with “…nothing.” / new paragraph / some sort of transition to establish a specific time and place in which a scene occurs, and then the dismissal, that would work better for me.
Come to think, her father mumbling did the same thing. For some reason that didn’t jar for me, possibly because it was in the middle of this continuous time and this is at the end? Not sure. Do with the thought what you will.
> …the only child he still had living…
Was there a reason you went away from the more efficient “…his only living child”?
Overall, this was hella strong. Very evocative. I feel for the guy and for his dismissed daughter as well. I’d like to feel more for her, her being stoic in the face of her father’s dismissal when she wants to be with him, but I suppose you have a whole rest of a book for that purpose 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 11:42 PM
Beth Bishop says:
Thanks for the feedback! This is why we write then edit and edit and edit some more.
April 22, 2014 — 9:25 PM
tedra says:
My sneakers slip on the slick gym floor even as I stand up slowly. I know, oh my shit I know, that I’m not alone. Heavy breathing from behind me raises the hair along my arms. The slow sliding, squeaking chairs makes my stomach drop. The growls though, is what gets me. What makes my feet feel like cement. What speeds my heart rate up.
What chills me, the doors to the gym go click, clack, click, clack.
Growl.
April 21, 2014 — 9:24 PM
Mike W. says:
Lots of alliteration 🙂 I like the atmosphere, with the suggestion of something horrible, but not revealing it yet. The only problem I can see is that your subject (growls) and verb (is) don’t agree; I’m not sure about all the subsequent verbs either…it might be easier to change the subject to singular (growl), to make it agree with the verb(s).
April 21, 2014 — 9:37 PM
tedra says:
I see what you mean. As the author we never see the problems until the fourth edit. 🙂 It’s good to have someone else look at it. Thank you.
April 21, 2014 — 10:47 PM
Jon says:
I like the Ses in the beginning to establish the slippery floor. Nice wordplay.
Suggestions:
“slow sliding…drop” I think that can go.
I’d also cut “the growls…me” and rejigger to fit. The reason is, you’re giving up the game too early.
Consider:
> I hold my breath and wait, counting heartbeats, listening for the squeak of sneaker against linoleum. Minutes go by, hours, all packed down into listening seconds. Waiting seconds, breathless seconds. They might hear. They might be near. I hear the click of the gun in the darkness and my heartbeat kicks to doubletime. Lights swim before my eyes, i have to breathe. I can’t breathe.
versus
> I hold my breath and wait, counting heartbeats, listening for the squeak of sneaker against linoleum. Minutes go by, hours. all packed down into listening seconds. Waiting seconds, breathless seconds. They might hear. They might be near. The thought of them behind me in the darkness, waiting, slow ruthless smiles spreading across their blank faces, the thought kicks my heartbeat to doubletime. Lights swim before my eyes. I have to breathe. I can’t breathe.
> Behind me, the gun clicks.
Not brilliant prose, but you get the point? By giving up the growling where it does, the piece moves the dramatic part to the least dramatic point — the middle of a paragraph. The power positions, the ones with the most impact, are the start of the first sentence and the end of the last sentence. Use that to effect!
> What makes my feet feel like cement. What speeds my heart rate up. What chills me, the doors to the gym go click, clack, click, clack.
Two of these are great concrete images, very evocative. I know what the feet feeling like cement feels like (though it could be clarified a bit — …”What makes each step feel like a slog through ankle-deep cement” or whatever), I know what the doors to the gym making that sound sounds like — they’re scary. The middle two, though, are vague and cliche. Yes the heart rate is going to speed up; yes, the girl (I assume) is going to get chills. But make me feel it instead of telling me — the brilliant way you did the last one and the brilliant way you will do the first one — and you’ll have me rooted to my seat reading on.
Nice work. Hope I helped a bit!
April 21, 2014 — 11:56 PM
tedra says:
Coolies. Thx Jon. I’ll definitely consider what you said.
April 22, 2014 — 1:42 AM
J. C. McKenna says:
From my steampunky YA, nearing completion:
The small tick-tick of gears began, and with that sound the cricket began to move again – first it wiggled its tiny antennae, then turned its little head from side to side, its sightless brass eyes stopping first on Mr. Gibson, then over to Uncle Ephraim until at last they settled on Charlie. Charlie stared back at the cricket just long enough to see her own face reflected upside down in the toy’s convex eyes. It stopped again for another endless few seconds, then seemed – to Charlie’s eyes at least – to nod as if it had come to some sort of momentous insect decision, lowered itself onto all its legs, and began to jump around the table.
April 21, 2014 — 9:58 PM
Dannie Morin (@Dannie_Morin) says:
Love the steampunk elements! Some great phraseology: sightless brass eyes, momentous insect decision.
For me the first sentence fragment is a bit of a tongue-twister with “gears began”, so it tripped me up a little. You’ll want to watch for repeated words: You use “first” twice in the first sentence and “eyes” three times in this paragraph.The last of which feels like a filter phrase to me. Love Charlie as a girl’s name!
April 21, 2014 — 10:17 PM
Dannie Morin (@Dannie_Morin) says:
From my YA Multicultural. An introduction of an important secondary character.
Juanito is six feet tall and built for fútbol, with a chiseled jaw and fierce eyes. When we first met, I was terrified of him. Now, I would trust him with my life. And I do. Frequently. I don’t know if his military boots, super-baggy cargos, or tattoo-sleeved arms cause Mr. Bennett to trip over his Goldendoodle. But it’s safe to say Juan sticks out in my gated community.
April 21, 2014 — 10:00 PM
Emilyjoy says:
I think you could lose the lines “And I do. Frequently.” We are just meeting these characters, right? There will be time to demonstrate how they trust each other with their lives, and without those lines you can go into the comedy of Mr. Bennett tripping over his dog more smoothly. Is he currently falling over the dog, or did that happen before?
Great start!
April 26, 2014 — 12:33 AM
joannadacosta2014 says:
Numb with cocaine and mumbling a gibberish prayer, Jackson Lee George lay hidden in the tall weeds at Dog Bottom. Looking up through the leafy tree tops to the stars, a faint smile touched his pale lips. The answer to an eternal question seemed to linger just out of reach. Closing his eyes, he centered his thoughts; it was nearly in focus. There. Eyes flying open, his mind snatched at the mystery, but found only an empty space. It was gone, an ephemeral vapor caught away on the ether. Sound, like a thousand bees, filled his head. The stars blazed bright, filling his saucer eyes with white light, then dimmed fading to black in his fixed gaze. Jackson died. He was twenty-three.
April 21, 2014 — 10:03 PM
next2april says:
Beautiful description of dying. I love it. The only thing I would suggest is in the sentence, Closing his eyes, he centered his thoughts – it was nearly in focus. instead of the semicolon, but I suppose it’s the same effect. I would definitely read more of this:)
April 21, 2014 — 10:42 PM
joannadacosta2014 says:
Thank you for the read and compliment. I’ve been trying to utilize dashes more often. I’ve seen them used well by other writers, but I’m concerned that I use them incorrectly. I’ll go back and replace some semi-colons to see how it feels. Once again, thank you for the input.
April 28, 2014 — 1:13 PM
robinlmartinez says:
Wonderful imagery! You have a very poetic style 🙂 My only suggestion would be to rethink the sentence “It was gone, an ephemeral vapor, caught away on the ether.” It’s a little awkward. Perhaps tightening it would help. For instance: “It was gone, like vapor bleeding away into the ether.” *Shrug* maybe just simplify the imagery. Best of luck – sounds like you have a lot of talent 🙂
April 21, 2014 — 10:50 PM
joannadacosta2014 says:
Thank you, Robin. It feels a bit clunky to me too. I’ve been playing around with it. I tend to get stuck on a phrase that I love so much that I don’t want to disappear it. That phrase here is “caught away.” It just does something for me, but you are right in that it doesn’t quite work here. I’ve thought of replacing the sentence with – “It was gone, called away to the ether.” or “…called away to the ephemeral.”
My larger concern with my writing style is that it may not be sustainable. I have not completed a work. I write the way that I think, but is it difficult to parse for long periods of time for people who don’t live in my head with my idiosyncratic ticks and gears? And, should I rewrite bits that are plainly narrated (often done to increase the rate of words hitting paper) to make them match areas where I’ve taken time to write in my manner?
Thank you for your input, it’s greatly appreciated.
April 28, 2014 — 1:26 PM
Daniel Quentin Steele says:
SAXON KENNEDY = NECROMANCE –
I agree with a previous comment – the words metaphor was kind of nice but stretched so far it simply stopped working.
KRIS : your paragraph was interesting. In the sense of the chinese curse – may you live in interesting times. I assume this came smack in the middle of a novel because otherwise I don’t know how anyone could make sense of it. It was dramatic, though. Just stuffed.
And now I’ll put up my piñata for anyone to take a whack at:
This is the opening paragraph of the opening 220,000-word novel of a million-word epic of love, lust, divorce, crime, the courts, law and big tits.
Four words destroyed my marriage and my life. And they’re not the four words you’re probably thinking about. Not “we have to talk,” or “baby, I’ve met somebody” or “our sex life sucks” or even “You’re not giving me enough.” Actually that last is five words, but hey, who’s counting.
April 21, 2014 — 10:05 PM
joannadacosta2014 says:
I am generally not a fan of first person, because I don’t buy the narrator’s voice as authentic. In the case of your WIP – I’m buyin’ what ever this guy is selling. He’s speaking in the universal language of “My life is shit and I saw it coming, but I couldn’t stop it.” I am fluent in said language.Your narrative voice is strong. I imagine Eddie Dean of The Dark Towers series sitting at a bar spilling his guts on how he lost Susannah. I look forward to reading more.
April 21, 2014 — 10:59 PM
April Wisecarver says:
This is in Max’s perspective, high school student.
Something cold smacks the back of my head. My hand is wet and brown when I pull it away. Mud, not shit. But STILL. I spin around to three assholes in hysterics. Good thing we’re not on school grounds yet. I storm toward them.
“WHAT THE FUCK.”
I shove Doug HARD and he lands on his ass. Before anyone reacts I slam my fist into Johnny’s mouth, and his head snaps back. He stumbles, but three against one never turns out well in my experience. Jake grabs my shirt and rams his knee into my groin, crippling me, and they kick me until they’re tired.
Johnny spits a mouthful of blood at me and says, “Why don’t you just go home and kill yourself?”
And Doug, as he walks away, says, “I’M GOING TO FUCK YOUR GIRLFRIEND MAXI PAD.”
If I could breathe, if I could stand, I would do something about that.
April 21, 2014 — 10:19 PM
Chel says:
It took me ages to try and find a paragraph that I was happy to have stand alone/that didn’t need some kind of context. But yeah, this is from The Other Claimants, a weird paranormal-fantasy-dystopian-future thing.
“Their destination lies at the back of the cavern: the largest rock formation, a stalactite and stalagmite that have grown directly into each other, forming a large, glistening limestone hour glass with a surface broken by large, well-lit windows. As they get closer, Nicola can make out big metal letters on the side which read ‘Ministry of Monsters for the Western Zone’ and some smaller ones below it in what she assumes are other various languages. Above her head, one agent says something to the other agent, and they alter their flight path to the lower half of the Ministry. Maybe some secret entrance. It made sense. They probably wouldn’t haul a bunch of high profile prisoners through the front door.”
April 21, 2014 — 10:22 PM
cindysprigg says:
How do I change the settings on this blog?,I get an email for every comment posted. Way too many
April 21, 2014 — 10:44 PM
Justin Beeman says:
With those final words, the assassin closed tear-filled eyes, gritted his teeth with a mix of determination and rage and relived the deaths of each of the targets. Every kick and thrash from the fat man’s body brought a new wave of faces rushing to the surface, eager to lend the strength of its memory to the assassin’s grip. He let out a primal anguished scream as he felt the last of Brynn’s will give. The man slumped back against the assassin and only then did Grehem release the vile man’s body.
Appreciate any feedback. Thanks!
April 21, 2014 — 11:21 PM
doverwhitecliff says:
Dying (no pun intended) to know what those final words were. Great way to suck somebody into a paragraph. Only thing that was confusing to me was all the his’es and not knowing the names til the end… You can probably also ditch anguished since primal pretty much says it… Love it!
April 21, 2014 — 11:35 PM
Justin Beeman says:
Thanks, man! While the short story that it comes from is less than perfect, you can read the whole thing over here at my blog. Just click on the “Prisoner of Death” link on the side, if you want!
April 22, 2014 — 12:02 AM
cindysprigg says:
The flame from the old oil light cast eerie shadows around the room. The night was still, except for the steady “ping, ping,” sound of the last of the evening’s rain drops, falling from the shack’s roof to join the many before them in the rusty black cast iron pot which was a permanent fixture on the kitchen table.
A breeze caught the flame and made the shadows appear alive as they swayed to and fro on the blood soaked walls.
A figure sat with his hands held up to the lamp, squinting his eyes in the dim light. His face was screwed up in a grimace; his tongue, held between twisted, blackened teeth, lolled from the side of his mouth. Lost in deep concentration, he slowly uncupped his hands to reveal a desperately fluttering moth. The young man held the moth carefully between thumb and forefinger and slowly pulled off one wing.
The insect tried desperately to regain its freedom, beating furiously with the other appendage. He closely examined the liquid and tissue that formed a string from thorax to wing as he slowly pulled the other wing free, then losing interest in his captive, he dropped it into the flame where it popped and hissed as flame engulfed it.
April 21, 2014 — 11:36 PM
Nikki says:
Sirens wailed in the distance. Everyone stared at me: the cronies, the bouncer, the three girls. Marco, the new kid, the devil to my angel, wore an expression I recognized. I looked down at my costume, the white speckled with red, streaking pink in the rain.
April 21, 2014 — 11:45 PM
dangerdean says:
I like the “white speckled with red, streaking pink in the rain.” Very evocative.
April 22, 2014 — 2:15 AM
dangerdean says:
That said, I’m curious about some of your choices. “Cronies,” for instance, are usually attached to someone…a mobster and his cronies, Grandpa going to the poker game with his cronies. I suppose that refer to something earlier in the story, though. Also, Marco wearing “an expression I recognized.” Does the reader know what that expression is, is it made clear later on, or are we supposed to imply from the context (someone being messily killed) that Marco is surprised, disgusted, turned on or whatever?
April 22, 2014 — 2:27 AM
Nikki says:
A thug and his cronies, which all happened earlier. And yes, the look Marco wears gets explained a few sentences later (horror). Thanks so much for responding.
April 22, 2014 — 11:53 AM
Conor says:
‘ “Slade, twenty six cycles, resource acquisition division, this is you?”
The overseer peered at Slade over the rim of his data-pad, from vantage on the rectangular dais.
“It is,” Slade said, offering his left wrist to the overseer, whose biotic eye flashed blue and scanned the ID chip buried in Slade’s arm.
“Move along,” the overseer commanded, and Slade did so, following the masses of outer hab workers to the next mining district. The overseers funnelled them like rats through a series of checkpoints, to what would be their new place of work, and their new domiciles. It had been scarcely a month since their last reassignment, and here they were again, thousands of them, trudging through mud a foot deep to what would be an almost identical mining district. Squalid conditions were a guarantee; fifteen-hour shifts, mining through muck and rock harder than bone a certainty, all for a mineral known to the workers only as gruelstone, so-called for its similarity in hue and texture to the muck that composed the infamous standard rations. What value this stark grey stone had for Communion, Slade didn’t know—no one did—but they mined it anyway. To not mine was to be imprisoned by the overseers, or be forced to escape into the ash wastes beyond the borders of the colony.’
April 22, 2014 — 1:01 AM
Conor says:
@Nikki, I like it, minimalist style, maybe there’s a more evocative word to use than ‘speckled’. If the red is blood (I assume), I wonder if blood would streak pink on certain kinds of white fabric. But, you know, poetic license is fine too.
April 22, 2014 — 1:05 AM
dangerdean says:
Fantasy Noir WIP. Last para of a fight scene.
“Bitch! I’m going to kill you!” He was stopped short when I stepped to the side and slid a stiletto under his ribs. He looked quizzically at me, coughed blood, then fell to the ground. I pulled out the little poniard, a gift from my uncle brought back from the trenches, and wiped it on his shirt, then slipped it back into its sheath in my sleeve. I thought better of getting up, and instead I puked up my dinner all over the alley by the body. I’d laid a beating on people before, but never actually killed anyone. I stood up, straightened my jacket, and walked out of the alley. No reason to waste witty banter on a dead guy.
April 22, 2014 — 2:13 AM
nehamukund says:
Not sure why I’m not able to reply directly to this post, i left an opinion below for dangerdean…
April 22, 2014 — 9:50 AM
Andy Cowley says:
From latest draft of my fantasy WIP (slightly more than one paragraph, otherwise it makes no sense):
I dreamed of Freyja again. Not the depraved and filthy dreams of wanton lust, just of… her. Her smell. The curve of her hips under my hand. The warmth of her neck. The tickle of her plaited hair on my chest. The sound of her mighty trumpets. Her sweet breath against my cheek.
No. Wait. Trumpets?
I awoke to dim moonlight punctuated with fire. Too much fire. Rampant fire, eating through the tents at the extent of my view. The screams of the immolated. Panic.
April 22, 2014 — 4:48 AM
Nikki says:
I really like the first paragraph. It’s got a smooth flow to it and excellent sensory details. The trumpets threw me off and then I kept reading and found the “aha.” The second paragraph I’m more hesitant about. It’s a bit too choppy for my taste. I’m assuming that you’re trying to convey the “oh my god the camp’s on fire!” freak-out of it all, but I would maybe combine some of those sentences or fill them out. Fragment sentences are just peachy (I love them to bits), but too many all lumped together like that tosses me right out of what I’m reading.
All in all, I’m very curious about the story and I’m liking the narrator (“Not the depraved and filthy dreams of wanton lust, just of… her.”). He (or she?) sounds like someone I’d follow a story through.
April 22, 2014 — 11:16 AM
Fatma Alici says:
The first paragraph is good, the flow is nice, and the trumpets jump out at you, as expected. Never thought I’d use a sentence like that. : )
Second paragraph is a little too jumbled. The first two line are good. But the third line. “Rampart fire, eating through the tents to extent of my view.” Doesn’t convey the chaos as the rest of the paragraph.
A good rule of thumb to show off frantic panic is to have a lot of short sentences with as simple word usage as you can manage. It helps you imagine that the panic, fear, etc… is the reader there running around with their head cut off.
April 22, 2014 — 12:47 PM
uwila says:
Neither the food nor the company, however, could compare to what was on the wall above her date’s shoulder. The worst part of the night was the cow. Ella supposed that the owners of the restaurant had thought that they had purchased a steer skull, but the horns were definitely an after death addition. The other themed decorations at El Capitan! looked like they had all been bought out of a catalog under the heading “Pinata Party!” The skull however, was real. This particularly authentic decoration had a very perturbed looking cow attached to it. Great. Just what the night needed. A ghost cow. Ella couldn’t take her eyes off of it. The cow vibrated and echoed from the skull nailed to the wall. It stretched its head forward, into the room, but could go no further. Each time that it pulled at the invisible, ethereal harness keeping it from moving forward, it would silently moo and then go back to looking around. Ella wondered if the cow was seeing ghostly pastures, whether or not it was experiencing some kind of bovine frustration at not getting to the grass. Ghost grass? An fucking eternity of the grass is always greener.
April 22, 2014 — 6:17 AM
Nikki says:
Dude. This one… I had to stop myself from skimming at first. “Oh, it’s a date scene at a tacky restaurant are we done yet?” Right up to the part with the cow vibrating. It’s a ghost cow. Some poor heifer’s ghost is nailed to a wall in a mexican restaurant and is aware of this? As soon as I figured out what was going on, it drew me right on board with this story. I would totally read more.
Side-note: Oh god, that poor cow. I feel really bad for that thing.
April 22, 2014 — 11:21 AM
uwila says:
Thanks for the feedback! I am glad that it caught you just in time! 😀
April 22, 2014 — 6:12 PM
nehamukund says:
Hope i’m not too late with this:
Falling to your death off the roof of a 30 story building is not like in the movies. It does not take you forever and it isn’t in slow-mo. Its fast and your heart beats like a million times in that moment and you just can’t help waiting for the pain to start or the ground to finally smile up at you with razor teeth the size of a killer whale and then you say hello to Gravity. Death by splatter, this sucked the big one! The pit of my stomach roiled like when I got in elevators. I was suspended for a moment, turning my body best I could preparing myself for the pain and then a bone shattering impact. Shit, damn.
That hurt. The impact shuddered every bone in my body, I spat blood. My head was ringing. “What did you expect, cotton candy on the pavement?” “Shut up”. I stared daggers at that voice and told it to just die. “Just like you’re about to?” It replied. The crazy girl was on top of me before I could get my bearings, she caught me by the scruff of my shirt collar and flung me in the air again. Oh my god, she was definitely something. This big run away idea was turning into a major shit fest. All the hosts of hell save me.
April 22, 2014 — 7:43 AM
Gilbert says:
Ruben’s preoccupation was unfounded. Telling her parents wasn’t a problem, at least not for now. They heard about it when they returned. Something was different, when they passed the gates of the town and it took Ruben a while to figure it out. It should have been carnival atmosphere; kids shout be running around throwing water balloons and the little store should have the party stuff outside.
“Something’s strange”, he whispered to Luciana who was sitting beside him all the way down from Iguazu.”As if Carnival was called off.”
“You’re right.” she said, leaning over him to catch a view on the streets outside. “Somebody died?” She slightly bit on her lips, “or was there another putsch!” Her breath caught.
“No, there would have been controls and military on our way and the bus driver would have told us instantly. This must be local, only hitting our town.”
“They closed the Frigorifico!” Miguel had asked an other passenger who got on at the crossroad to Parana.
“They what?”
“Not possible! Who, they?” Alexis was asking with a mixture of anger an fear; both his parents were working at the factory.
“I don’t know, the new owners the government sold it to last year probably. He just knew that the governor and the archbishop are having talks with the owners.”
Alexis was frantic. The others were troubled, but neither of their parents were working at the Frigorifico, they didn’t see the significance, how could they. It would take Some weeks for Ruben too until he would see it.
Luciana whispered to Ruben “Let me go, sit next to Maria. My parents are getting me for sure.”
“When do we see us again, amor?” Now his voice was shaking.
“Tonight, at the the river, down at Juan Ramon’s old cabin.” She smiled and kissed him.
“I love you.”
She looked back and nodded, but the smile has yielded an anxious expression. Ruben was sure this because of the closing of the Frigorifico, not because of them, was he?
April 22, 2014 — 7:50 AM
nehamukund says:
@dangerdean its great stuff. I like that its not chapters and chapetrs of descriptions and I like that your protognist is a no nonsence kind of person (that is the idea I get from this paragraph).
But stopped short when she stepped aside and stabbed him? Does that impy that in the previous para he was standig very close to her?had he charged toward her? and meaning them he stopped short? I dont see the sequence of this playing out, its hard to imagine the scene. The reaction to the stabbing, however, was great and well written.
April 22, 2014 — 9:47 AM
dangerdean says:
The previous paragraph might lend some context.
“So what exactly did you owe Jimmy?” he chuckled. “This is going to be fun.” His grip was choking me, but I was able to turn my head enough to get a face full of bicep. I bit down hard, pretended I was chewing the toughest steak in the rooming house. He squealed and pushed me away as the cotton broke through his skin. I fell on one knee, and hiked myself up as he looked for something to use as a weapon. He decided a fist would do the job and came at me with a murderous look in his eyes.
April 22, 2014 — 2:13 PM
nehamukund says:
Ok great.. Yes ok that makes sense now. I’m curious. Is there a link where I can read more..?
April 22, 2014 — 2:16 PM
dangerdean says:
Not as such. Right now it’s a bunch of disconnected fun that may coalesce into the storyline in my head, so nothing public. There’s a scrap here,though.
http://campnanowrimo.org/campers/dangerdean/novels/terminal-city-nightfall
April 22, 2014 — 3:48 PM
Dr. Nate Harada says:
From one of my WiP, modern paranormal dark fantasy getting mugged in a dark alley by Lovecraftiana:
The phone rang at the precise junction between Far Too Early and Genuinely Godforsaken o’Clock — a single minor-key trill set at the lowest possible volume. Naturally, this was nowhere near low enough because, almost instantly, the upstairs neighbor’s dog began to bark, the frenzied high-pitched demon yip of the damned that would in no more than fifteen minutes set off every other dog in our corner of the building. Before I go too much further, let me impress one thing upon you: that dog fucking hates me. Me, in particular. I have not one clue why — I’ve never kicked it, I’ve never accidentally closed the courtyard door on it or stepped on it, in fact I have only actually ever seen it in passing and I believe if I’ve spoken two dozen words to the damned thing’s owner it’s because we were both using the laundry room at the same time. It hates nonetheless, with the sort of white hot rage that causes it to explode in a conniption every time my phone rings. Or I open or close any door in my apartment, including the front door. Or walk across the floor too loudly. Or, you know, speak, such as answering the ringing phone requires.
April 22, 2014 — 11:20 AM
uwila says:
I really like the way this starts with the phone ringing and it winds the reader quick down into this tight space of the protagonist’s life. I like the pace and descriptions. And I love it that the action is the phone ringing but we are suddenly and very naturally talking about the jerk of a dog.
The only thing that I would look closer at is the last sentence. Only because the dog is actually triggered by the phone ringing and not the answering of said phone.
Other than that? Fantastic!
April 22, 2014 — 6:22 PM
Dr. Nate Harada says:
From my other WiP: the Lovecraftian high fantasy with a skosh of steampunk alternate universe version of the above story:
My grandmother once told me that the first and deepest emotion of all men is fear. They fear the past, how those things that were known and have been forgotten may yet reach out from their graves to touch the lives of they that came after. They fear the present, the choices they must face, the roads they must travel, the painful certainty of change, for good or for ill. They fear the future, the specter of the unknown and the unknowable, looming above all else and darkening the sky with its shade. They fear for themselves and for others, fear poverty, sickness, war – and above all other things, they fear death, in whose infinite lack of either favor or mercy all men inevitably meet as equals.
Which explained, frankly, why the men standing on my doorstep in the long hours of a windy autumn night were regarding me with the combination of abhorrence and contempt usually reserved for fish three days past a meal for the neighborhood strays or a pox-laden whore demanding full price.
Fear.
April 22, 2014 — 11:22 AM
Fatma Alici says:
Overall, the I love the feeling invoked with this paragraph. Rambling in the best of ways. However, the first sentence threw me off at first.
“My grandmother once told me that the first and deepest emotion of all men is fear.” When I first read it it makes me think the deepest emotion is man. I have to pause before I grasp the meaning.
Other than that small hiccup I really enjoyed this.
April 22, 2014 — 12:53 PM
Andy Jackson says:
Here’s an opening paragraph from a very rough WIP.
Kysia gasped as the vision took hold, a magic that she had long since been unable to control anymore. Her arms flung out, the plate of freshly poached eggs and stewed carrots that she had been carrying to the table smashing against the far wall of the kitchen before ruining itself on the cedarwood floor. Her left leg likewise spasmed and kicked out of its own volition and she pitched forwards, crying out as she caught her chin on one of the wooden chairs around the small table before landing awkwardly on her belly. Hot tears streamed down her face as she gripped at her temples from the blinding pain and hoped that this would be over quickly.
April 22, 2014 — 12:21 PM
Fatma Alici says:
Action is described well overall. I know pretty much nothing about Kysia but I sympathize with her pain
However the “carrying to the table smashing against the far wall of the kitchen before ruining itself on the cedarwood floor.” Seems somewhat out of place and maybe too long of a description. It pulls me out of what’s going on.
April 22, 2014 — 1:00 PM
Fatma Alici says:
This is likely way too late, that’s what I get for being to busy to check my email for 24 hours. Here I go anyway. This is the first paragraph for my WIP dark urban fantasy.
“A sudden jerk as my eyes flick open. Everything around me is blurry. My legs ache with the cold. My shoulder hurts and I can feel a solid metal chunk digging into it. I shake my head trying to remember how I got where ever I am. I can’t remember. A few strands of my hair are stuck to my face. I lift my hand to brush them away and I pause. There is a knife in my hand. Dark red liquid coats it, my hand and my arm. Blood, its blood, I realize.”
April 22, 2014 — 1:01 PM
Chris says:
It’s quite snippy and fast paced. A lot of shorter sentences, which I like. I would maybe reconsider the “My legs ache/My shoulder hurts” sentence pairing, since it’s a little repetitive. And I would change the last bit so the first use of the word blood is its own sentence like: “Blood. It’s blood, I realise.”
April 22, 2014 — 3:43 PM
Fatma Alici says:
Thanks. I can see what you mean by it coming across a bit repetitive there.
I keep going back on the last sentence. When I first wrote it, I had the way you suggested. And, then I changed it is now. And, changed it again. Finally, I left it alone and let my critique group look it over. Since, I can’t make up mind.
April 22, 2014 — 3:51 PM
Regina says:
It feels so weird to just post a first paragraph. I keep trying to write something to justify it. I think that means it’s not as solid as I’d hoped. I guess I’ll keep it short and sweet: the first paragraph of a journal-format, unfinished short story set in the late 1800s.
—
It is the duty of a gentleman to record his mistakes, so that others will not be doomed to them. It has been many years since I laid a pen to this book. It has been many more since ‘gentleman’ was a state I could claim. My hand shakes. I have purchased ink in the last town, with the coin my companions can no longer use, though I left each with coins upon their eyes. It is a small thing to do, the smallest, but I had not the strength to bury them.
April 22, 2014 — 1:02 PM
curiouskermit says:
I like it! It is short and sweet, which is perfect. I’d read this for sure. =)
April 22, 2014 — 4:47 PM
Alecia Miller says:
Here goes nothing….
(from a fantasy WIP)
The twelve fei hurried to complete the setting rituals before the winds arrived. They had much to do to ensure that today’s service was executed successfully. The twelve wore identical kimonos, all in shades of brown that matched the feathers of their plumage, with a rich, black obi at their waist. The feathers framed their ivory faces and extended the curve of their horns down to a point between their midnight eyes. They split into groups, three to each corner, swirling around each other in near silence; the clicking of their tongues coordinating their movements and creating a rhythm that matched their urgency. As they spun back toward the table now laden with dishes, their kimono sleeves encircled each fei in a dance of its own.
April 22, 2014 — 2:26 PM
JC Hemphill says:
This is a single paragraph *and* an entire story in 180 words. Thanks for any notes at all!
It Was Her
by JC Hemphill
I met a man made of smoke today. He had no lips for smiling, no eyes for seeing, no ears for hearing. He billowed and breathed and carried a case containing many items for sale. Inside were potions next to promises written in ink; rarities that shimmered and devices of great carnage; a history of forgotten treasures and treasures from forgotten histories. With a wave of his smoky hand, he said, “Take your pick, son, and please be quick.” When I reached for something bright, it bled through my fingers and vanished. “Sorry, son, all outta that one. Try again, and please be quick.” I reached toward the case, my hand hovering over gems, then an hourglass full of sand, until I fell upon a photograph I hadn’t yet noticed. It was her, it was me, it was what I needed. It was her. I grabbed, expecting nothing but finding everything. She materialized beside me, a specter no more. In a flash, the man made of smoke closed his case and drifted away, leaving her, taking me, a photograph for sale.
April 22, 2014 — 3:11 PM
Chris says:
Consider the city. Where once an endless blue sky stood proud over a blanket of green and golden fields, now squat houses line the paved land, and chimneys stand tall, belching fetid smoke into the mottled clouds. Factories sit alongside hospitals, whorehouses next to churches. Streets wind and twist through the confusion, concealing dark alleys and undesirable elements. Even from the top of the top of the city’s tallest structure, the Clock Tower at its centre, the patterns resemble little more than a weblike maze. There is no uniformity of design. If Shabaz in the far east is the city built by God, Gaslamp must be the work of a madman.
April 22, 2014 — 3:34 PM
Pat says:
Love your imagery. Would you consider making the last line your first? I would love to read more.
April 22, 2014 — 4:08 PM
Pat says:
Andel arrived home from school just before dusk. He slung his backpack onto a kitchen chair and foraged in the refrigerator for his customary pre-dinner snack. He startled, surprised as he shut the door. A man, not his father, was leaning against the kitchen counter. The skin around the man’s eyes creased with laugh lines as a lop-sided smile crossed his face. “Uncle You!” The two males embraced with a sustained a hug. Youseff stepped back and looked the teen over. “I see your father’s body and your mother’s good looks. Probably lethal with the females.”
April 22, 2014 — 3:50 PM