Fantasy SS, 1400 words, Tragic

[MarkCoveny]

Thanks. Just wanted to make sure I understand ya.

As for the rust issue. Most armor and other metal items in medevil times were covered in rust. Our current society believes rust is a bad thing and promotes shiny and new. So depictions of olden times normally show polished metals. Rust however works great to protect metal too. Of course there are many ways to provent rust if they so desired. Excess animal fat would be the easiestly obtained rust protection.

On woman and chattle.
It was not my intent to debate woman's place or stature in medevil times. I guess I consider this stuff common knowledge, but maybe it's not to most people. You mentioned Catholic, so I'll direct you a strong statement that woman were chattle. (This is the easiest reference for me to find sorry in advance for bring up the bible.)

Exodus 20:17 (Can't link or I would to biblegateway.com bible look up) Here's the passage though:

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's.

Sounds like a list of possesions to me, wife is included. Current day they've fluffed it up and now they just say "Covet thy neighbour's wife". It makes it look more like adultry rather than jealousy. Hmm I should prolly shut up now.

Thanks again for explaining.
Sorry again for the bible reference.

 

[MarkCoveny]

Hmm my last post seems to need approved because I tried to put a link in it.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

I've approved your post, so that it now appears in this thread.

As for the rust issue. Most armor and other metal items in medevil times were covered in rust. Our current society believes rust is a bad thing and promotes shiny and new. So depictions of olden times normally show polished metals. Rust however works great to protect metal too. Of course there are many ways to provent rust if they so desired. Excess animal fat would be the easiestly obtained rust protection.

You are justifying what is an unnecessarily bad location. A bad habit for writers. If you do ever write this out as a novel, you will find that it causes you endless grief to defend what could just as easily be changed. I know this from long experience. Yes, animal fat works for rust protection (I mentioned goose-grease for that purpose in my first book), but it was used for so many different things, I really don't know what you mean by "excess" animal fat. They didn't have extra lying around. And if you look at pictures from the medieval period, you do not see rusty metal. They liked shiny, too.

The word is spelled "medieval" by the way, not "medevil." You've spelled it that way twice in your post, so I assume it isn't a typo.

It was not my intent to debate woman's place or stature in medevil times. I guess I consider this stuff common knowledge, but maybe it's not to most people. You mentioned Catholic, so I'll direct you a strong statement that woman were chattle. (This is the easiest reference for me to find sorry in advance for bring up the bible.)

Yes, you do seem to be going on "common knowledge" when it comes to a woman's status in the Middle Ages. Unfortunately, common knowledge is often wrong. I have done a great deal of research on the period, on and off, for close to forty years, besides discussing this matter very often since with individuals who have done in-depth research on this particular question. So I will repeat that you are over-simplifying and misinterpreting. You can do what you want with the background of your own book, but please do not try to explain it with superficial and highly selective explanations of medieval society.

As for your Bible quote: You are no doubt aware that it was not written during the Middle Ages, and that by the time a thousand plus years had passed people were already interpreting it to suit themselves. The people of Medieval Europe were not ancient Israelites. They did not have multiple wives. They did not have the same marriage customs. They did not regard women in exactly the same way. Certainly, passages in the Bible could not and did not take into account the cult of Mary as it would develop in the Medieval period. So again, you are being highly selective. Also keep in mind that the Bible was written in Latin, which most people did not read. To even own a translation was heresy. The majority of people received their impressions about the Bible from priests and educated men, not from the Bible directly. This led to very mixed ideas about women. These ideas cannot be fully summed up as "chattel."

I would advise that you either do a lot more research into this period, or be content to make it all up as you go along. (And if the latter, don't try to explain it. That will involve you in endless circular arguments.)

 

[MarkCoveny]

My intent was not to argue or anger you. For that I apologize.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

I'm not angry. I just think that you should do some more research if you want to hold your own in discussions about that particular period, which quite a few of our members have studied in depth. You've obviously done some research, in fact, much more than a lot of new writers who have posted here, but you've combined it with common misperceptions. A writer friend once told me about a story he had written, "I knew just enough about the subject to get me into trouble." I think that's where you are.

But you are writing fantasy. Some writers do a lot of research, and base their worlds on real-world societies, or on real-world mythologies. Others borrow from other fantasy novels. And still others make it up as they go along. For each of these approaches there are writers who have used them successfully. My own preference is generally for books that are based on a lot of research, but there are also books where the writers have blown me away by the sheer extravagance of their imaginations, by creating worlds that cannot possibly be rationalized in real-world terms but that somehow seem right -- I think of their worlds as the landscapes of dreams or the subconscious mind.

You are just beginning; you may not even know yet which approach is best for you. When you find it, go at it whole-heartedly, no half-way measures.

In the meantime, learn how to exist fully in the moment with your characters. To me, that is the main thing your story lacks right now. If you end up over-writing a scene, you can always edit it down.

 

[MarkCoveny]

Alrighty, the revision put it up to 1600 word count. Changed the begining completely, did a bit more editing, and tried to remove jarring words not within the time period.



"The dragon has scales like the black o' night and teeth the size of yer forearm," the merchant says.


"No one said anything in the village," I say.


"They wouldn't know, would they? It's going on 50 years, since the last time he's been seen."


"There would be stories if what you say is true."


"Maybe they didn't want to scare you lass, being new to the area and all."


"I don't believe you."


With a tip of his hat, the merchant says, "Believe whatcha will."


The decaying smell of swamp assailed me as I walked away. I do not fancy living here, and prefer living in a city. I miss neighbors and the sounds. Here visitors are frequent because of Colby's work, but it is not the same. Now this merchant brings tales of a dragon who hunted in this area. I do not like it, not one little bit. I enter the house, sit down and start reading while I wait for Colby to finish bartering with the traveler.


The sound of hammer hitting steel signals the merchants departure. I put my book down, and check to make sure there is no trace of him or his wagon. Seeing none, I head to the forge.


I watch my husband slam red hot steel with a hammer. The impact bathes the forge in sparks. The noise is deafening, but I can tell his focus is intense. The sight of him in a loin cloth with the front of his torso and arms covered in protective leather still looks strange. I watch the muscles in his back as he swings the hammer and pounds the metal.


Colby sees me watching him, and I say, "Did you hear about the dragon?"


"Yes, I expect he hears and makes up many stories while on the road."


"So you don't believe it to be true?"


He puts down his work, walks over to me and engulfs me in a hug smelling of fire and ash.


"My love, do not fear the daydreams of some aspiring bard. He has little to do on the road but make fanciful tales."


"So you think it made up?"


"Yes, he's just an old man who spends too much time alone."


Colby's reassurances put my fears at ease, and I kiss him deeply.


"I love you," he whispers.


"I love you too," I smile.


I finish the daily chores, and still have time to read before supper. I pull out my most treasured book, Magical Creatures. It is Colby's gift to me from our wedding day. I turn to the page on black dragons and begin to read:


Black dragons are a medium sized dragon with a breath of acid. They prefer swamps, bogs and marshlands. Like all other dragons they crave treasure and sleep for long periods of time. They are not as aggressive as the reds, but they are still evil.

The weeks pass, and I forget about the merchants fantasies. Colby and I enjoy time together talking and reading. We buy books and spend the night discussing them at length. Our first year of marriage is glorious.


It is a joy to have someone to talk with who cares for what I have to say. Men are so troublesome when it comes to listening to a woman's mind. Colby is different; he sees me. He appreciates my opinions, and it is one of the many reasons I love him.


On a drizzly twilight, a midwife confirms my suspensions. I am pregnant. Overjoyed I run to the forge to tell Colby as the midwife leaves. She believes I carry a girl, and I worry that message will not be taken well. Men prefer male children, and I fear his disappointment, but I am still elated.


"I'm pregnant," I say.


Colby turns and grins, "That's good news!"


"The midwife thinks it's a girl."


His delight never falters, "We're going ta be parents..."


"I know!" I say as we embrace.


We talk about names and building a crib. We discus clothes and buying a cow. The excitement of the baby keeps us up late into the night, and we fall asleep holding each other.


The next night when I call to Colby that dinner is ready, I hear something large breaking through the trees of the swamp. Upon hearing the noise, Colby and I go inside of the security of our home.


"What is that?"


"I have no idea, but it's big." Colby says as he draws his bow and scans the swamplands behind our home.


Something twice the size of a wagon brakes through the tree line. The ebony dragon advances on its two powerful hind legs. It's wings curled to its sides, to prevent them from catching in the trees. The sight of it fills me with terror. It stops to look at the clearing around our home and lifts its head. It's nostrils flare and a foul stench overcomes me. It notices our movement, and rushes the house. Colby's arrow hits the dragon in its right shoulder. The tip barely penetrates the skin.


The dragon's head lowers as he peers into the window. I hear a deep intake of air, and it snaps me out of my terror. Colby pushes me into the front of the house as the acid blasts through the small window. The spray covers the entire room and splatters onto Colby's back. The smell of acid is so pungent I vomit in my mouth.


Time slows down as we scramble to get away from the dragon. I hear the dragon's claws raking the roof off the house. I see Colby struggling to stand, and then I see his back. The skin is gone, the muscle is exposed and I can see the white of bones clearly. In my shock it seems unreal, as if his skin is a shirt, and I need him to put his shirt back on.


The dragon's hole in the roof expands, and I expect another breath attack. Unable to open the front door, Colby uses the window beside it. The gruesome wounds on his back should have killed him, but he grabs me off the floor, and tosses me sailing into the front yard.


"Run!" is the last word he ever speaks.


Paralyzed in the front yard, I watch in horror as the dragon looms over my home. The drake's acid strikes Colby. The acid flows over him like thick green drops of water. The shower melts off his face, leaving his skull and jaw open in a soundless scream of agony. I lay in horror as I watch my darling devoured by this enormous winged serpent.


He is gone, and I am left with a hole where my heart used to be. Everything is gone. . .


I wail as I understand he is gone, gone forever!


I wail my voice ragged.


I wail every time I relive his death, as he tries crying out to me.


He's gone.


I wail. I know hunger and thirst and yet I wail.


I wail as my mind loops through our life together, knowing that I will never experience moments like that with him again.


I wail that he is gone. Truly, permanently gone. Never again will I see his smile or feel his touch.


I wail at losing half my soul.


No sound emerges and yet I try, even without voice my loss still needs out.


I have no notion how long I sit replaying the final moments of his life over and over again. I try to yell and scream, but my body will not obey. I put every ounce of my pain and suffering into my scream. Everything falls away but trying to make my voice work again. The sorrow pounds me for release.


I feel time pass and my body transforming. I concentrate on making my voice heard. I move but not with my legs; my body is no longer human. The oddity of it breaks my focus. The overgrowth of weeds mean several months must have passed.


I move to the place where he died. I look down at the scarred stone and finally funnel all my grief and pain into noise. I sound much louder and stronger than I ever did while human. The keening sound of my cry shatters the windows, and some part of my mind knows me as the mournful spirit foretelling death. I am a banshee.


I know things. I know how to cast magic. I know I did not have milk to nurture my daughter and need to find someone who does. About to give birth, my knowledge includes the time of my pregnancy. The art of how to mask my unborn child jumps to mind. I just need to find a wet mother with a girl child to replace.


I search for homes not protected with iron, and find a defenseless cottage. The spell I weave puts their child in a form of stasis while mine can develop and strengthen. As I leave, the loss of my child overwhelms me. I wander lost, unable to find my home.


I hear sounds of merriment and waves of anger hit me.


How can they be joyous? How dare them?


I will make them pay.


I enter the clearing and scream at them. I will end their happiness, and I give them all my mourning and anguish. My cry kills all ten of the fairies and turns them pure white.


I did not want to kill them, and the shame of it brings me back to thoughts of Colby. I become engrossed in my thoughts again. I travel to where I lost everything, to the place that defines me: Boglamore.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Although it still needs a lot of work, this new version is a big step forward in many ways.

However, I think you should post the revision in another thread. In this thread, people who saw the first version may pass it by because they've already commented and they won't know that you've posted another draft.

 

[chrispenycate]

[/quote]

Alrighty, the revision put it up to 1600 word count. Changed the begining completely, did a bit more editing, and tried to remove jarring words not within the time period.



"The dragon has scales like the black o' night and teeth the size of yer forearm," the merchant says.


"No one said anything in the village," I say.


"They wouldn't know, would they? It's going on 50 years, since the last time he's been seen."


"There would be stories if what you say is true."


"Maybe they didn't want to scare you

comma

lass, being new to the area and all."

"I don't believe you."


With a tip of his hat, the merchant says, "Believe whatcha will."


The decaying smell of swamp assailed

present tense, "assails". And possibly even "hunts" later on, although it could be only historical at that point.

me as I walked away. I do not fancy living here, and prefer living in a city. I miss

for the rhythm (the grammar's fine) I would suggest "the neighbours"

neighbors and the sounds. Here visitors are frequent because of Colby's work, but it is not the same. Now this merchant brings tales of a dragon who hunted in this area. I do not like it, not one little bit. I enter the house, sit down and start reading while I wait for Colby to finish bartering with the traveler.

The sound of hammer hitting steel signals the merchants

merchant's

departure. I put my book down, and check to make sure there is no trace of him or his wagon. Seeing none, I head to the forge.

I watch my husband slam red hot steel with a hammer.

Actually orange hot, or even yellow verging on white hot, as you know. (useless pedantry)

The impact bathes the forge in sparks. The noise is deafening, but I can tell his focus is intense. The sight of him in a loin cloth with the front of his torso and arms covered in protective leather still looks strange. I watch the muscles in his back as he swings the hammer and pounds the metal.

Colby sees me watching him, and I say, "Did you hear about the dragon?"


"Yes, I expect he hears and makes up many stories while on the road."


"So you don't believe it to be true?"


He puts down his work, walks over to me and engulfs me in a hug smelling of fire and ash.


"My love, do not fear the daydreams of some aspiring bard. He has little to do on the road but make fanciful tales."


"So you think it made up?"


"Yes, he's just an old man who spends too much time alone."


Colby's reassurances put my fears at ease, and I kiss him deeply.


"I love you," he whispers.


"I love you too," I smile.


I finish the daily chores, and still have time to read before supper. I pull out my most treasured book, Magical Creatures. It is Colby's gift to me from our wedding day. I turn to the page on black dragons and begin to read:


Black dragons are a medium sized dragon with a breath of acid.

If I were writing an instruction manual for dragon spotting (I've done a cookbook – would they be 'don't dare twitch'ers?) I wouldn't repeat the word so rapidly. Something like "Blacks are medium sized dragons" or "A black dragon is of medium size, breathing acid rather than fire or smoke, the nesz is circular, generally in a cavity in a rock face and the eggs" Coughs. Sorry for the short deviation.

They prefer swamps, bogs and marshlands. Like all other dragons they crave treasure and sleep for long periods of time. They are not as aggressive as the reds, but they are still evil.

The weeks pass, and I forget about the merchants

merchant's

fantasies. Colby and I enjoy time together talking and reading. We buy books and spend the night discussing them at length. Our first year of marriage is glorious.

It is a joy to have someone to talk with who cares for what I have to say. Men are so troublesome when it comes to listening to a woman's mind. Colby is different; he sees me. He appreciates my opinions, and it is one of the many reasons I love him.


On a drizzly twilight, a midwife confirms my suspensions.

I suspect "suspicions", and I would use a semicolon there, so the pregnancy is a natural continuation of the first half.

I am pregnant. Overjoyed

comma

I run to the forge to tell Colby as the midwife leaves. She believes I carry a girl, and I worry that message will not be taken well. Men prefer male children, and I fear his disappointment, but I am still elated.

"I'm pregnant," I say.


Colby turns and grins, "That's good news!"


"The midwife thinks it's a girl."


His delight never falters, "We're going ta be parents..."


"I know!" I say as we embrace.


We talk about names and building a crib. We discus

discuss – unless discusing them is for long distance ironing.

clothes and buying a cow. The excitement of the baby keeps us up late into the night, and we fall asleep holding each other.

The next night when I call to Colby that dinner is ready, I hear something large breaking through the trees of the swamp. Upon hearing the noise, Colby and I go inside of the security of our home.


"What is that?"


"I have no idea, but it's big.

Comma (and you were doing so well)

" Colby says as he draws his bow and scans the swamplands behind our home.

Something twice the size of a wagon brakes

breaks

through the tree line. The ebony dragon advances on its two powerful hind legs. It's

Its – and either "its wings are" or the full stop just before can be a comma.

wings curled to its sides, to prevent them from catching in the trees. The sight of it fills me with terror. It stops to look at the clearing around our home and lifts its head. It's

Its

nostrils flare and a foul stench overcomes me. It notices our movement, and rushes the house. Colby's arrow hits the dragon in its right shoulder. The tip barely penetrates the skin.

The dragon's head lowers as he peers into the window. I hear a deep intake of air, and it snaps me out of my terror. Colby pushes me into the front of the house as the acid blasts through the small window. The spray covers the entire room and splatters onto Colby's back. The smell of acid is so pungent I vomit in my mouth.


Time slows down as we scramble to get away from the dragon. I hear the dragon's claws raking the roof off the house. I see Colby struggling to stand, and then I see his back. The skin is gone, the muscle is exposed and I can see the white of bones clearly. In my shock it seems unreal, as if his skin is a shirt, and I need him to put his shirt back on.


The dragon's hole in the roof expands, and I expect another breath attack. Unable to open the front door, Colby uses the window beside it. The gruesome wounds on his back should have killed him, but he grabs me off the floor, and tosses me sailing into the front yard.


"Run!" is the last word he ever speaks.


Paralyzed in the front yard, I watch in horror as the dragon looms over my home. The drake's acid strikes Colby. The acid flows over him like thick green drops of water. The shower melts off his face, leaving his skull and jaw open in a soundless scream of agony. I lay in horror as I watch my darling devoured by this enormous winged serpent.


He is gone, and I am left with a hole where my heart used to be. Everything is gone. . .


I wail as I understand he is gone, gone forever!


I wail my voice ragged.


I wail every time I relive his death, as he tries crying out to me.


He's gone.


I wail. I know hunger and thirst and yet I wail.


I wail as my mind loops through our life together, knowing that I will never experience moments like that with him again.


I wail that he is gone. Truly, permanently gone. Never again will I see his smile or feel his touch.


I wail at losing half my soul.


No sound emerges and yet I try,

semicolon

even without voice my loss still needs out.

I have no notion how long I sit replaying the final moments of his life over and over again. I try to yell and scream, but my body will not obey. I put every ounce of my pain and suffering into my scream. Everything falls away but trying to make my voice work again. The sorrow pounds me for release.


I feel time pass and my body transforming. I concentrate on making my voice heard. I move but not with my legs; my body is no longer human. The oddity of it breaks my focus. The overgrowth of weeds mean several months must have passed.


I move to the place where he died. I look down at the scarred stone and finally funnel all my grief and pain into noise. I sound much louder and stronger than I ever did while human. The keening sound of my cry shatters the windows, and some part of my mind knows me as the mournful spirit foretelling death. I am a banshee.


I know things. I know how to cast magic. I know I did

do

not have milk to nurture my daughter and need to find someone who does. About to give birth, my knowledge includes the time of my pregnancy. The art of how to mask my unborn child jumps to mind. I just need to find a wet mother with a girl child to replace.

I search for homes not protected with iron, and find a defenseless cottage. The spell I weave puts their child in a form of stasis while mine can develop and strengthen. As I leave, the loss of my child overwhelms me. I wander lost, unable to find my home.


I hear sounds of merriment and waves of anger hit me.


How can they be joyous? How dare them

they

?

I will make them pay.


I enter the clearing and scream at them. I will end their happiness, and I give them all my mourning and anguish. My cry kills all ten of the fairies and turns them pure white.


I did not want to kill them, and the shame of it brings me back to thoughts of Colby. I become engrossed in my thoughts again. I travel to where I lost everything, to the place that defines me: Boglamore.

 

[MarkCoveny]

Comma's on both sides of lass? (Just making sure)

As for the use of red hot; I used it because it's a more common description. There are off course a wide range of colors I could have used.

Got rid of the redundent use of dragon, and fixed all the other stuff you mentioned. Can't seem to edit my post to change it here though. Thanks again for looking it over.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Can't seem to edit my post to change it here though.

That's because the site was purposely set up not to allow members to edit their posts after a certain time lapse. (I think it's about 20-30 minutes.)

 

[The Judge]

I was going to wait until you posted this on another thread, assuming that you would take Teresa's advice, but as Chris has delivered his oracular judgements, I suppose it makes sense to continue here for now.

Yes, as Teresa says, it is greatly improved. All credit to you for listening to the critiques and following them. I'm more of a line-by-line nit-picker and Chris has done most of the work on that front. But there are a few other things I noticed:

You need to proof-read a little more carefully, eg:
"So you think it made up?" - 'you think he made it up' or 'it was made up'.
"We're going ta be parents..." - 'to be parents' (I debated whether this was dialect/accent, but there's no sign of it elsewhere).

Word use is still a bit wayward, eg:
I do not fancy living here - 'fancy' relates to something happening in the future, 'I don't fancy seeing that new movie', but she is there in the swamp, so you mean 'like'.
Men are so troublesome when it comes to listening to a woman's mind - no, they are not troublesome - that means annoying, or creating problems. They are inattentive or dismissive or scathing or violent depending on how misogynistic you wish them to be. And unless they are telepaths, no one is listening to her mind.
I also raised my eyebrows at 'bartering' - it's very possible you mean it in a literal sense, ie that Colby is receiving goods in exchange for his labours because this is not a cash-based economy, but that doesn't square with a 'merchant' who presumably is selling goods, so I suspect misuse.

Punctuation is mostly OK, but:
"Yes, he's just an old man - if you were saying this out loud, I suspect you would pause after 'yes' for a lot longer than a comma. I'd suggest in constructions of this kind (there was at least one other) you full stop (period) after the 'yes'.

Miscellaneous:
"I love you too," I smile. - I hesitate to correct this, since I am very guilty of it myself, but you shouldn't use a facial action instead of a verbal one as an attribution. She has said this, not smiled it. (My view is that it's perfectly possible to talk and smile at the same time, and 'she smiled' is quicker to write and implies the same as 'she said, smiling' but so far I haven't met with success in this argument.)

I have to confess to giving up half-way through again. I am not a tolerant reader, and I start skimming very quickly unless a story holds my interest. Alhthough you have taken great strides in characterisation, I still wasn't concerned as to their fate.

Overall, I found the use of the present tense odd, not least because it is manifestly not all happening at the one time. I'm not sure of your reason for doing it this way, but I really don't think it would lose anything by being written in the past tense. It wouldn't, for instance, lose any sense of immediacy which you might have hoped to impart. But if you are writing in the present, you have to be extra vigilant to weed out the past tense, Chris caught 'assailed', but in the same line was 'walked'.

You still need to sharpen up the prose a great deal. You don't have the gross irrelevancies of before, but there is still a good deal which could be taken out without loss. For example, I see from your earlier posts that you feel strongly about the position of women in earlier centuries; but frankly unless it has a bearing on the story itself, I don't think a polemic about it is either necessary or helpful. As I remarked before, in a short story, every word has to justify its place. In this respect, too, your dialogue needs severe pruning. It is less jarring than before, and I can't say it is unrealistic. But it simply didn't propel the story forward as it should, or really interest me a great deal - look at the lines in the pregnancy scene, for instance, and you will see that they add nothing and take us nowhere.

Your sense of period still seems wayward and unfocussed for me, though I don't know if that is deliberate or not. For instance, the word 'pregnant' is late Middle English, so wouldn't have been used by anyone much before about 1350-1400 I imagine, and even for some considerable time after that it isn't likely to have been a word in the mouths of ordinary people (though I stand ready to be corrected by those more knowledgeable). In England, Caxton didn't start printing until 1474, so books were incredibly rare before that, but even afterwards were not things that were at all common. Ordinary people could not read - and the idea of a blacksmith reading just takes me wholly out of the story. (Teresa will know better than I about the Middle Ages, but certainly by 1830 in England, working class women were more likely to have some reading and writing skills than their menfolk, many of whom remained functionally illiterate, as this was seen as somehow a woman's job.) Yet you give Colby a bow and arrow as if this is normal for a man to have about the house, which argues against anything later than the 1550s - and I can't believe it was standard equipment for a blacksmith in the centuries before that. Of course, in your fantasy you can make anything happen, but inconsistencies or oddities like this - especially in a short when there is no time to explain them - can act to pull people out of the story.

But, yes, an improvement. Now you must think about what you have learned and take those skills and start another story. Keep writing.

 

[MarkCoveny]

Both of the speech mistakes were dialect. Or at least attempts at it. hehe

It's my understanding that fancy can be used in present tense as well. "I fancy that girl." "He fancies himself a bull rider."

Changed it to a period after yes, fixed walked and changed it to [I say, "I love you too," and smile.]

This story is actually a backstory to another one I wrote. A few "answers" are in this story from that story. So a couple of things might not be necessary to this story but are needed.

What word did they use for pregnent? With child maybe?

While looking for some kind of time frames I ran across this passage and had to post it. hehe

Medieval blacksmiths in the cities were highly valued as their wares were needed in virtually every household from a serf’s up to a grand king’s. It didn’t pay to upset blacksmiths lest your nails would bend and your sword might break.

The time period isn't suppose to be after the Roman Empire, it is suppose to be before it. The books aren't from a printing press they leather bound and copied by hand. Him reading is suppose to be rare, and unique.

 

[Jayaprakash Satyamurthy]

One thing you could expand on is your narrator's reading. In Jane Eyre, for instance, Jane's only happy childhood memories are of reading - and there is a memorable passage where she described the little window-seat where she would hide and read and the books she loves best. Her reading choices - tales of travel - also reflect her longing to escape from her narrow, constrained life. Perhaps you could touch on the kinds of books your character likes to read, and then pick up the thread again when she turns to literature later in life. The books can help develop her character and offer some sort of mirror or foreshadowing - perhaps she is addicted to revenge tales, or eerie folk tales of creatures like the banshee. This is in addition to the book you mention, of course.

These are only my own personal thoughts - everyone has a different way to add depth to their narrative, and you may find something else you can develop on.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

If you are going to put a story before the public -- even by posting it here for critique -- you can't explain away any of the problems by saying that it is the back story (or any other part) of something else. A story has to stand on its own. And for the purposes of this story, there is no reason for Colby to be able to read. It really doesn't impact the story in any way (if she is really in love with him, it would have to be founded on other and more important factors in addition to their shared love of reading, so you could mention those instead), so why have it in there looking like a mistake?

Also, if you want us to believe that her book on magical creatures is rare and valuable and hand-written, you can't treat it so casually in the story. She needs to accept it, handle it, and read it always with the awareness that it is a precious, precious thing for her to own.

On the other hand:

Now, suddenly, you tell us the story is set in a period comparable to the time before the Roman Empire. Which is to say not Medieval and not Dark Ages, but far earlier, and that is not coming through at all -- possibly because you are basing the research you are doing on a period that is off by hundreds if not thousands of years. And where is it happening? In certain cultures in pre-Roman times, women had fairly high status. In some of them, there were no books or other written materials, and knowledge was passed on orally. Or if there was writing, it was a secret thing known only to priests and those who were trained in the mysteries. Because your main character turns into a Banshee, and the name of her home is Boglamor, there is a strong suggestion of the Celtic, and women did have higher status than other places, and there weren't books. You need to be more clear on these things. (IN the story. Not in your discussions with us. As I said, the story has to stand on its own.)

Also, if your story is that early and the setting is somewhat rural (as it would have to be if he is living on moorland or in a marsh), then Colby's status as a smith could change radically, depending on when and where, because smiths were often credited with magical powers, and the working of metal was also a mystery passed on very selectively from master to pupil. If this is your period, you might want to read up on the mythical and magical role of smiths in early and primitive cultures. You might find the subject quite enthralling, and it would certainly provide you with plenty of ideas for fantasy writing.

If, on the other hand, he is located closer to an urban center, he may simply be a craftsman with an important skill, and that passage you quoted (besides being the wrong period) is surely meant to be somewhat facetious. As a craftsman in any time you would not have such a hold on your customers that you could get away long with passing off shoddy goods, and particularly, in the Medieval period or earlier, not with people of higher rank, who could send people to do terrible things to you with your own nails and horseshoes if you annoy them.

I have problems with the midwife guessing that the child is a girl. This is the sort of thing that midwives (and others) traditionally did not predict until very late in the pregnancy. It usually had to do with whether the child was being carried high or low in the final months. On the other hand, if the midwife has some sort of magical powers, or she uses some form of divination to determine the sex of the child (I suggest that you look some of these up, because such things have been practiced even into modern times), that might be interesting, if it really is important to you to establish the child as a girl before she is born. However, it seems to me that you are really using this as another short-cut to making us feel sympathy for Colby.

As to the actual writing of the story, I agree with The Judge that there are problems with the narrative being written in the present tense. There are always problems that come up when writing in the present tense, and it is a technique that has to be handled very carefully. You've managed to stumble into most of the pitfalls, most notably the one The Judge already pointed out, the fact that it doesn't all happen within the same span of time.

Your character is pregnant for much of the story, but you don't make the pregnancy seem real. I suggest that you talk to a mother you know, and ask for the specifics of what it feels like to be carrying a child, especially near term, and then put some of those details into the narrative. Every mother reading your story will be right there with your protagonist if you do, and completely in sympathy with her.

However, in spite of all these quibbles and more-than-mere-quibbles, there were moments when you did pull me into the story, where I was able to visualize things, however briefly, which is a big improvement over the earlier version.

 

[MarkCoveny]

I'm not trying to "explain away" anything. I'm simply telling you this story is a back story of another short story. The use of Boglamore, her turning into a banshee and her pregnency are required.

The him reading part isn't required, but I don't think it's as much of a stretch in a fantasy world. This story doesn't have to conform to exact times of real life, it just needs to feel like fantasy.

The short story is obviously not set somewhere in the world as dragons and banshee have never exsisted. If you must have a place and time, how about Macedonia around 200BC? I believe that area has freashwater swamps if the bit of research I did is correct. Should put me well past the iron age so blacksmithing should be a skill by then. Bows go back as far what 9000 BC or something like that so I'm good there as well. Our history has a war brewing in that area around that time, so just assume it's before the war and after alexander the great. Also assume it's an obsure barbaric tribe.

As for the status of blacksmiths, I guess we'll agree to disagree.

The midwife guessing the child was iffy for me. If the child is high or low is not the only way people use to determine the sex of the baby. Some are as irrelivent as what sexual position concived the child to determine the sex. I need the child to be a girl, so I figured I'd use it to show Colby's acceptance again. I didn't want to focus on the pregency or the child too much as I knew the child was to be a changeling, and she would have to get rid of it because of the folklore around fairies and their offspring.

As for use of the present tense; I want to practice with it. Because of this I'm using it. There are various forms of time I can use while in the present tense. If I've made a mistake in wording or usage I'd love to hear about it. To my eye the story uses different speeds of time. Sometimes time moves slowly and sometimes it moves quickly. I read an article about it but I can't seem to find it.

Thanks for looking it over again.

 

[The Judge]

It's my understanding that fancy can be used in present tense as well. "I fancy that girl." "He fancies himself a bull rider."

And both these examples mean something different from 'I fancy living there'. If you want to be a writer, you need to be able to use words properly.

What word did they use for pregnent? With child maybe?

That would be one option. If you are writing semi-historical stuff (which most fantasy is) then you need to have a feel for the kind of language used at that time. As Teresa has said, do more reading.

The time period isn't suppose to be after the Roman Empire, it is suppose to be before it. The books aren't from a printing press they leather bound and copied by hand. Him reading is suppose to be rare, and unique.

Then your portrayal of the era is even more unfocussed than I had imagined - I would be amazed if anyone reading this thought 'oh yes, pre Roman, Macedonia, definitely'. It is up to you if you want people to know when and where the story is set, and a kind of 'Neverworld' can be successfully evoked by those who know what they are doing, but you run the risk of alienating your readers if you fail to do it properly.

This story is actually a backstory to another one I wrote. A few "answers" are in this story from that story. So a couple of things might not be necessary to this story but are needed.

If this is a short story, why does it need to fit in with another? It might be back story for something else, but they are both stand-alones and should each make sense as individual pieces. If you intend this to be proper backstory, then presumably what you have here is not a short at all, but a prologue or chapter one.

I'm not trying to "explain away" anything. I'm simply telling you this story is a back story of another short story. The use of Boglamore, her turning into a banshee and her pregnency are required.

But you are. By responding to me and then to Teresa in this way you are effectively saying 'the reason you don't understand is because...' when what you should be saying is 'my readers are not understanding this. Is it my fault for failing to make things clear?' That is important in any writing - in a short it is vital.

The him reading part isn't required, but I don't think it's as much of a stretch in a fantasy world. This story doesn't have to conform to exact times of real life, it just needs to feel like fantasy.

But that's the problem. It doesn't feel like fantasy. It feels like someone has read a few stories, thinks he can do better and just shoves down anything that takes his fancy because it sounds cool.


Incidentally, you may feel there is no reason to listen to me on major issues, because I have no standing other than that given by a love of English and a lot of amateur writing under my belt, but you may not be aware that Teresa is a well-respected and successful fantasy author who has been writing professionally for years. What she doesn't know about writing in general and writing fantasy in particular probably isn't worth knowing. Listen to her advice.

 

[mygoditsraining]

Just a general point, unrelated to the text (I think you've got enough to process anyway), but beware of ambiguities in titling things.

I almost did a spit take reading the words Fantasy SS, 1400 words, Tragic - and my girlfriend said "well, at least he's honest."

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

This story doesn't have to conform to exact times of real life, it just needs to feel like fantasy.

The short story is obviously not set somewhere in the world as dragons and banshee have never existed.

No, but there should be internal consistency -- which not only means continuity within a story itself, but that any hints of background given within that story should give the impression of a secondary reality where all the parts fit together seamlessly. When they do fit, a reader feels confident in the writer, suspension of disbelief becomes easy, and the reader is carried along by the story. But when the parts don't seem to fit, when they rub up against each other in the wrong way, or if they collide in such a manner that the reader is even momentarily jarred out of the story, confidence is lost and the reader starts asking questions. These questions, in turn, provide further distractions, which can cause the reader to lose any connection to the story and characters at all.

That is exactly what you, as a fantasy writer, should seek to avoid. But going by some of the comments you are getting here, I am not the only reader who is having that kind of reaction. This, above all, is what you should be focusing on. How can you win back readers who have those reactions? Do you want to win us back? Are we the kind of readers you are even writing for? These are questions you should be asking.

Instead, you try to justify your choices historically by telling us how you think life was lived in the Middle Ages. This invites the rest of us to correct what we feel are false impressions. You respond, and we respond back. Now you say the setting is more like Macedonia 200 BC. I could discuss with you whether anything in the story sounds even vaguely like that time or that place, but in the end all this discussion is irrelevant. The only subject of true relevance is: How can you write your story in such a way that you win readers' confidence and achieve the desired suspension of disbelief?

Your efforts to impress the rest of us with your knowledge on various subjects are not helping your story, which has to exist and convince entirely apart from any asides you make to us in this thread. I really cannot stress that enough.

So, why not stop arguing history (which will inevitably invite counter arguments) and concentrate on what really matters? Some of the people critiquing your story are having a problem with what they perceive as a lack of inner consistency. Does this worry you? If it does, try to fix it. If it doesn't, write the story in the way that pleases you best, and then move on to the next one.

And one final comment from me, before I move on: You are obviously new to this. You are receiving advice from people who have been writing, and learning, and writing some more, for a long time. The best thing you can do at this point is pay attention. This doesn't mean that you should take every bit of advice you receive. It doesn't even mean that you should take any of it. But if your first reaction is to defend what you are already doing, you probably aren't learning anything, because the person you are paying the most attention to at that point is yourself. Far better than responding would be to simply take it all in, think it over, put it aside for a while, bring it out again and see if it looks any different to you, think some more, and then decide whether to accept it or reject it.


Edit -- Cross-posted with you, Judge, and mygoditsraining -- which means I spent more than an hour composing the above message. Clearly, I need to get a life.

 

[The Judge]

As a craftsman in any time you would not have such a hold on your customers that you could get away long with passing off shoddy goods, and particularly, in the Medieval period or earlier, not with people of higher rank, who could send people to do terrible things to you with your own nails and horseshoes if you annoy them.

Going somewhat off topic briefly, I was reminded yesterday that consumer protection has been important for centuries. Checking something about the saffron crocus I came across this:

Over the centuries the high price of saffron gave rise to a thriving trade in adulterants, such as dyed fibres from beef and pomegranates. The penalties were severe: a trader in 15th-century Nuremberg was buried alive with his adulterated product.

Edit -- Cross-posted with you, Judge, and mygoditsraining -- which means I spent more than an hour composing the above message. Clearly, I need to get a life.

I think your agent would say you need to get on with your writing! But I, for one, am glad you are here giving us your insights which I find immensely helpful. Thank you.

 

[MarkCoveny]

Judge
I think you've misspoken. I do not believe you have trouble understanding the story. I believe you are in disagreement with me about if parts should be included. I'm trying to tell you the story is written within certain guidelines. eg certain things need to be included even though they don't move the plot forward, or you consider them superfluous. Correct me if I misunderstand what your saying.

shoves down anything that takes his fancy because it sounds cool.

I believe this is the use of fancy in present tense.

I have reason to listen to everyone, and your insights are important to me. I have already made several changes to my story based on things you've said. However, even though I apprecate your input greatly, it does not mean I will do and change everything you want me to change. Thank you for your input I do value it. I know that it is frustrating to try to help someone and they are stuborn about certain parts. I hope that you will be willing to continue giving me feedback though within these constraints.

MGIR
The actual title of the story is "The Mores", however seeing this as a title isn't very descriptive. This area is for critiques I figured that it would be best to make the title of the thread so people would know what they are getting into before they clicked. Sorry if you got anything on your girlfriend.

Teresa
Awesome post, and I agree completely. I really would prefer not to discuss history, and discuss the words and sentence which you feel "jarred" you, and why. As I apprecate your time I will respond with my answers to the questions you posted.

How can you win back readers who have those reactions?
I think you and several others have stated that the revision is a lot less jarring. So I'm headed in the right direction. I'd like more feedback on the actual sentence or words that bother you (like pregnent).

Do you want to win us back?
To a certain degree yes. However I think we disagree on how much I should leave to the readers imagination. I'm leaving a lot to their imgination, and you'd like to see me give detail. The story is short and I feel that most people will "produce" a old world in their head, like most of you have done, without my help. The problem is I got some words and sentences in there that you don't like. So I would like to win you back by removing or changing the exact parts that you find inconsistent, but I don't want to win you back by adding more about the backdrop, time period or setting. I hope that makes sense.

Are we the kind of readers you are even writing for?
Actually you are not the readers that I'm writing for, but your great for helping me clean the story up. The readers I'm writing for are not nearly as demanding. hehe I really enjoy you guys though because as my stories get better in your eyes, they are likely to get better in their eyes as well. Even though they don't understand the nuts and bolts as well as you guys, having the nuts and bolts in better alignment will make a difference. In other words I'm cooking for a bunch of rednecks, but they will still enjoy the fine dinning.

I am new to this, I've only been writing for alittle over a month now. Make no mistake I listen and read and reread every reply. I think about what's said. I know that you have points you would really like me to follow, and you focus on those points. However Teresa I rewrote the whole front half of the story on your suggestion. I completely agreed with it, and no one else suggested it. I think it helped the story greatly. Just because I don't do everything you suggest doesn't mean that I'm not listening to you. I hope you can understand that.