first five paragraphs, does it have a hook?

[LukeW]

Howdy,

Been a while since I've contributed anything useful to the site but I've started getting the old cogs moving again and would like a bit of feedback.

As the title suggests, this is the opening scene of a story I'm writing (fantasy) and I would like to hear a bit of feedback on it, mainly to do with whether it's got a hook in there or not, although I am also interested in hearing people's opinions on the writing style and whether I'm info dumping too much.

I'm also unsure about paragraph three, does it sound jarring or is it just me?

Cheers

"

Heat shimmered off the dusty red stones of the trail – once a free-flowing river – leading south past the village Gens. Travellers did not ordinarily use the rocky path in fear of the warlike and savage tribe that protected the desert forests and plains of Northern Isan. Thus it was unusual news when Hep of the Gens tribe reported a lone caravan travelling west along the trail, noting an unescorted target, easy prey for an ambush.

Chieftain N’gyu ordered his youngest son, Dig, to attack the travellers, deeming such an action an appropriate rite for his son’s coming-of-age ceremony. Dig’s two older brothers, Hep and Ulj, followed from a distance to observe while N’gyu remained at village Gens.

A lone pantamelon clove blew innocently past stingy-barked gums, coming to rest on Dig’s shoulder before blowing away under a timid breeze. Dig ignored the minor irritation, focusing his mind on the feel of the hardened spear shaft, Isilda.

Fourteen years earlier chieftain N’gyu had laid a new-born Dig beside Isilda - a black shafted spear six-feet in length, dead straight and tipped with a carved down needle point. Fourteen years of toil had bred a familiarity between Dig and the weapon so that he knew it intimately, his sweat and blood a permanent feature of Isilda’s fibres. With such refined intimacy Dig was able to wield Isilda with expert precision; no dopey-eyed clawfoot was safe within one hundred paces of the youth. For a time Dig enjoyed the favour of the tribal elders, his skill with the spear heralded as a great boon to the tribe and he passed the first two trials of becoming a man, spear use and wrestling, with ease. But Dig was held back by the final trial, a single major shortcoming in the eyes of the Gens tribe – he had never killed another man, a result of opportunity rather than desire, and therefore himself could not become one, until today.

Dig crouched beside a stinging grass bush, his dark skin fitting into a background of charred tree stumps and shades of drabness. He ignored the itch as the wind blew the stinging grass blades over his naked shoulders, and settled in for a long wait, beads of sweat rolling off his neck.

"

 

[Anne Lyle]

I think there's definitely a hook there, even in the first paragraph, but you need to tighten up the prose and get a better handle on viewpoint.

Sentence 1 - feels like an individual's PoV.

Rest of para 1 and para 2 - more like omniscient/distant third person.

Para 3 onwards - obviously in Dig's PoV

I would rewrite those first two paragraphs in Dig's close 3rd person PoV, like the later ones - have him thinking about the rarity of travellers and the lurking presence of his brothers, rather than the author telling us.

Apart from that... "permanent feature" sounds a bit modern, maybe rephrase that in more "Neolithic" terms? I like the other sensory details, though, and the aboriginal-type setting makes an interesting change from the usual medieval schtick

 

[Toby Frost]

I like it, but I think the last paragraph should be first. To my mind a story should open with someone doing something, even (perhaps especially) if we don't know quite who and why. Action draws the eye, so to speak. I know a lot of fantasy novels have in the past begun with a great big preamble about the gods or some similar mythic stuff, but I think you can avoid that here, partly because the unusual setting (I imagined the characters as tribesmen a bit like Zulus) doesn't set this up as Just Another Fantasy Epic*.

As it stands, we start with a description that could be from one point of view, then immediately pull back into a generalisation about the area, which takes attention away from right now. I would be inclined to put us straight into Dig's POV and keep us there until the violence is done.

Say an assassin goes out to shoot somebody. As he assembles his gun, he and the readers won't want to think about his bosses, his payment or where the gun came from (except perhaps "I'd better not let them down, especially now I've got this fine weapon", which in turn raises the stakes for the assassin all the more). Right now, it's the shot that counts.

So how about starting like this:

Dig crouched beside a stinging grass bush, his skin fitting into a background of charred tree stumps and shades of drabness. He ignored the itch as the wind blew the stinging grass blades over his naked shoulders, and settled in for a long wait, beads of sweat rolling off his neck.

I've left out "dark": to my mind the scenery shows this, and it's somehow cooler to figure it out for ourselves. Also, do you get shades of drabness? Probably, but it feels slightly odd. I would leave the paragraph starting "Fourteen years" until later, perhaps as Dig returns to camp and sees N'gyu and the threat is less immediate.

Overall I think it's got a lot of potential. I quite like the writing and your grip on the setting seems strong. The use of different senses - the feel of the wind in particular - is nice, but having some sounds might strengthen it. Are there crickets in the bush? Is Dig listening for enemies? But yes, I think this could be a strong opening.

* Assuming such things still get published. I'm not sure.

 

[Ursa major]

I tend to agree with TobyTwo that you want to start with something active to better engage the reader, such as your last paragraph. There should be plenty of opportunities to put across the other information, but only one to grab the reader's attention (who, if they're working for an agency or imprint, may be more than jaded by the time they see your first page).

Dig crouched beside a stinging grass bush, his dark skin fitting into a background of charred tree stumps and shades of drabness. He ignored the itch as the wind blew the stinging grass blades over his naked shoulders, and settled in for a long wait, beads of sweat rolling off his neck.

This is supposed to be close 3rd person. However, the words

his dark skin fitting into a background

seem to indicate a more omniscient POV (or someone else's).


To pull this back inside his head, he could be hoping that his colouring was helping him to blend in or he could be worrying that it wasn't. This should also help the reader empathise with someone who is, they'll assume, about to take part in a possibly unprovoked attack, because he may be putting his young life at risk.

.

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

Hi Kuke,

I found several problems with this I'm afraid:

Comment
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Howdy,

Been a while since I've contributed anything useful to the site but I've started getting the old cogs moving again and would like a bit of feedback.

As the title suggests, this is the opening scene of a story I'm writing (fantasy) and I would like to hear a bit of feedback on it, mainly to do with whether it's got a hook in there or not, although I am also interested in hearing people's opinions on the writing style and whether I'm info dumping too much.

I'm also unsure about paragraph three, does it sound jarring or is it just me?

Cheers

"
(As others have mentioned this first sentence leaves the reader expecting the observer of the shimmer to be the next person we hear from however - I'm having trouble with other aspects too. the heat would be shimmering of the whole path not just the stones.)
Heat shimmered off the dusty red stones of the trail – once a free-flowing river – leading south past the village Gens. Travellers did not ordinarily use the rocky path in fear of the warlike and savage tribe that protected the desert forests (what's a desert forest? - and more than one no less. And why would a tribe protect it - from what?) and plains of Northern Isan. Thus it was unusual news when Hep of the Gens tribe reported a lone caravan travelling west (it was south) along the trail, noting an unescorted target, easy prey for an ambush. (I'd start with the report from Hep - Have him speaking to the chief and then have the tribe discuss the unusual possible trap nature of the sighting)

Chieftain N’gyu ordered his youngest son, Dig, to attack the travellers, deeming such an action an appropriate rite for his son’s coming-of-age ceremony. (Whoa that was a bit sudden - give the reader a chance, set up the ceremony and then have Hep report - You can go mad describing the party etc.) Dig’s two older brothers, Hep and Ulj, (wouldn't Hep have been at the ceremony and would the chiefs son really be out on 'scouting in the hot sun duty' rather than slurping the fermented yak milk with his mates) followed from a distance to observe while N’gyu remained at village Gens. (I fancy the old guy would want to see this proud event)

A lone pantamelon clove blew innocently past stingy-barked gums, coming to rest on Dig’s shoulder before blowing away under a timid breeze. Dig ignored the minor irritation, focusing his mind on the feel of the hardened spear shaft, Isilda.

Fourteen years earlier chieftain N’gyu had laid a new-born Dig beside Isilda - a black shafted spear six-feet in length, dead straight and tipped with a carved down(?) needle point. Fourteen years of toil had bred a familiarity between Dig and the weapon so that he knew it intimately, his sweat and blood a permanent feature of Isilda’s fibres. With such refined intimacy Dig was able to wield Isilda it with expert precision; no dopey-eyed clawfoot was safe within one hundred paces of the youth. For a time Dig enjoyed the favour of the tribal elders, his skill with the spear heralded as a great boon to the tribe and he passed the first two trials of becoming a man,( skill with the spear use and wrestling, with ease. But Dig was held back by the final trial, a single major shortcoming in the eyes of the Gens tribe – he had never killed another man, a result of opportunity rather than desire, and therefore himself he could not become one, until today.

Dig crouched beside a stinging grass bush, his dark skin fitting into a background of charred tree stumps and shades of drabness. He ignored the itch as the wind blew the stinging grass blades over his naked shoulders, and settled in for a long wait, beads of sweat rolling off his neck. (It sounds a bit strange that he would hide in such a place and then wait for long. I'm imagining nettles wafting on my back and I don't think I would put myself through it - surely he would wait lying on the ground in preference to this. Plus he's going to take on the whole caravan on his own - seems ambitious for a fourteen year old)

"

Hope I helped

TEiN

 

[LukeW]

Thank you all for the valuable feedback.

I thought that paragraph three was jarring but what you've let me realise is that it's the shift in POV that was throwing me off.

The first time I wrote this paragraph three was actually the starting point. I added paragraph one and two afterwards as I wanted to set the scene a little bit more which might explain the change in POV. I feel like writing descriptive prose is my weakest point so it's very helpful to think about it as coming from the character rather than the narrator.

Tobytwo, I will take your suggestion on opening with action on board. Cheers.

Are there crickets in the bush?

They're mentioned very shortly.

what's a desert forest?

We call it the bush here in Australia. Basically it's typified by large gum trees (that tend to explode when they catch fire), and very dry surroundings. Any grass is sharp and nasty and usually there's rocks rather than dirt on the ground. That's not to say that Dig is an Aborigine, but the setting that I imagine would be typical of the Australian bush.

 

[Clansman]

LukeW, I have to admit that the "desert forests" bit caught me as well. If you are writing for a strictly Australian audience, that makes sense, but you have an international community here, so I would refer to "desert bush" or "desert scrub" or some such. Even "desert bush" is a bit jarring, as a Canadian, I think of bush as a scrubby part of the Boreal forest (a part that has been logged and is being re-forested).

Writers have to be very careful about cultural references creeping in, especially in a fantasy. It would be something like me saying "she ate a beaver tail", and everyone else here thinking "flat appendage from the rear end of a tree-munching rodent", when actually it is fried dough, coated in cane sugar.

Good effort. I admire your imagination.

 

[Precise Calibre]

It would hook me more if you put 5 at the beginning, cut out 4 and spread the details from it into the other paragraphs.

 

[LukeW]

"desert forests" bit caught me as well. If you are writing for a strictly Australian audience, that makes sense, but you have an international community here, so I would refer to "desert bush" or "desert scrub" or some such.

The term 'desert forests' isn't used by Australians, we have forests and we have bush but if I went down to my local pub and said I'd just returned from the desert forest then I'd get a few wierd looks. The concept behind the term is based on my experiences of bushwalking down here. Desert forest, while not a term we use, is an apt name and as this is a piece of fantasy I chose to use it. The point is taken though that I need to explain what it is exactly. Cheers.

It would hook me more if you put 5 at the beginning

Seems to be a reoccuring opinion and one that I will be implementing, cheers.

 

[LukeW]

Here's the reworked version. I've taken most comments into consideration with this. I'm particularly interested in hearing about POV and flow.

I've got a head cold at the moment so hopefully that hasn't affected my writing.

Cheers

"

Dig peered out from behind a stinging grass bush, his body twitching in nervous anticipation. Behind him stood the charred stump of a once proud stringy-bark gum tree, the remains concealing his own naturally dark skin tone. He ignored the itch as the stinging grass blades blew over his naked shoulders and settled in for the wait, beads of sweat already forming on his neck under the late-morning glare of the Sun.

Dig focused on the trail that crossed before him not more than thirty paces, shimmering heat radiating from where the trail met the crest of the horizon. Once a free flowing river, the trail now carried the common characteristic of the rest of Isan – dry and inhospitable. On either side of the trail were dusty banks leading up in a lazy curve. Dig had selected this spot for the ambush as it afforded both concealment and a slight height advantage.

Off in the distance a currawong let out a long, mournful caw. As he waited, Dig considered the morning’s events. His early morning chores had been interrupted when his oldest brother Hep had returned to village, reporting a lone caravan travelling from the west. Chieftain N’gyu had ordered his youngest son, Dig, to attack the travellers, deeming such an action an appropriate rite for his son’s coming-of-age. Dig’s two older brothers, Hep and Ulj, had followed from a distance to observe the ceremonial act and provide assistance only if necessary. N’gyu, under certain tribal expectations enforced by the elders, had remained at village Gens to prepare for his son’s coming of age celebration.

A lone pantamelon clove blew innocently past gnarled gums and stunted bushes, coming to rest on Dig’s shoulder before blowing away under a timid breeze. Dig ignored the slight tickling sensation, tuning his mind to the feel of the hardened spear shaft, Isilda.

Years earlier chieftain N’gyu had laid a new-born Dig beside Isilda - a black shafted spear six-feet in length, dead straight and tipped with a whittled down needle point. Fourteen years of toil had bred a familiarity between Dig and the weapon so that he knew her intimately, his sweat and blood staining Isilda’s fibres. Dig held mastery over Isilda; no dopey-eyed clawfoot was safe within one hundred paces of the youth. For a time Dig enjoyed the favour of the tribal elders, his skill with the spear heralded as a great boon to the tribe and he passed the first two trials of becoming a man (weaponry and wrestling) with ease. But Dig was held back by the final trial, a single major shortcoming in the eyes of the Gens tribe – he had never killed another man, a result of opportunity rather than desire, and therefore he could not become one himself, until today.


"

 

[LukeW]

The next four pararaphs.

"

***

For generations on end tribesfolk had measured the passage of time by watching one’s shadow and Dig felt that his was being particularly lazy. Restlessness sunk in. His urge to twitch and scratch was growing and Dig wanted to take a moment of respite and allow his muscles freedom to fulfil their yearnings. A single cautionary voice inside him warned against such displays of weakness and Dig knew that his brothers were watching him, assessing every minute detail of his ambush, hoping for a reason to beat him later on.

The sun continued its assault throughout the early afternoon, a merciless barrage that would burn even the dark skin of the Gen, eating its way into the flesh. A seed of doubt was sending its shoots out through Dig’s stony resilience. He started to doubt his brother’s report. Perhaps Hep had lied, a joke at his expense. Dig wished to turn his head and check if they still observed, but he knew that this would be seen as a weakness. And so he waited, through the burn, doubt and irritation.

A lazy solitude crept into Dig as weight seemed to be pressing down upon his eyelids. Distant currawongs sung to each other and the cricking of insects lulled Dig into a state of fuzzy warmth where he could escape the discomfort that his body now throbbed with. His shadow was stretching out now, still with no sign of the single caravan.

Dig gripped Isilda tighter, trying to fend off the heavy hold of sleep. The adrenaline of the ambush had long deserted him, leaving behind a yearning to relax and a dull, cramping ache.

 

[LukeW]

Argh, double post.

 

[TheEndIsNigh]

First off it's better IMO however:-

Here's the reworked version. I've taken most comments into consideration with this. I'm particularly interested in hearing about POV and flow.

I've got a head cold at the moment so hopefully that hasn't affected my writing.

Cheers

"

Dig peered out from behind a stinging grass bush, (if he's behind the bush then his shoulders wouldn't be getting stung, especially as he's peering round it) his body twitching in nervous anticipation. (why, twitching in fear or even butterflies maybe) Behind him stood the charred stump of a once proud stringy-bark gum tree, the remains concealing his own naturally dark skin tone. He ignored the itch as the stinging grass blades blew over his naked shoulders and settled in for the wait, (again he needs to crouch down and then ignore the stings) beads of sweat already forming on his neck under the late-morning glare of the Sun. (is Sun capitalised? The problem is there's obviously loads of places to hide why would he pick such an uncomfortable one. Why not stand behind the tree; it's near noon and he's going to bake himself in the "aussie" sun - I doubt his target - soft townies etc - will be galloping about in those conditions. It would be more believable if it was very early morning and they caravan had been spotted in the dawn light which is a better time to be moving about in such conditions)

Dig focused on the trail that crossed before him not more than thirty paces, shimmering heat radiating from where the trail met the crest of the horizon. Once a free flowing river, the trail now carried the common characteristic of the rest of Isan – dry and inhospitable. On either side of the trail were dusty banks leading up in a lazy curve. Dig had selected this spot for the ambush as it afforded both concealment and a slight height advantage. (too many trails)

Off in the distance a currawong let out a long, mournful caw. As he waited, Dig considered the morning’s events. His early morning chores had been interrupted when his oldest brother Hep had returned to village, reporting a lone caravan travelling from the west. Chieftain N’gyu had ordered his youngest son, Dig, to attack the travellers, deeming such an action an appropriate rite for his son’s coming-of-age. (if the elders can stop him attending then it should be they that set the task and I would have thought the elders would have attended too. This chiefs son is up for appraisal are they likely to rely on his brothers - have them scattered about) Dig’s two older brothers, Hep and Ulj, had followed from a distance to observe the ceremonial act and provide assistance only if necessary. N’gyu, under certain tribal expectations enforced by the elders, had remained at village Gens to prepare for his son’s coming of age celebration. (the trouble here is that in my experience of fiction walk-about and the like the son is left to it and no helping hand can be allowed. He either makes it or is cast out into the desert to die)

A lone pantamelon clove blew innocently past gnarled gums and stunted bushes, coming to rest on Dig’s shoulder before blowing away under a timid breeze. Dig ignored the slight tickling sensation, tuning his mind to the feel of the hardened spear shaft, Isilda.

Years earlier chieftain N’gyu had laid a new-born Dig beside Isilda - a black shafted spear six-feet in length, dead straight and tipped with a whittled down needle point (whittled down and tipped with?). Fourteen years of toil had bred a familiarity between Dig and the weapon so that he knew her (sex?) intimately, his sweat and blood staining Isilda’s fibres. Dig held mastery over Isilda; no dopey-eyed clawfoot was safe within one hundred paces of the youth. For a time Dig enjoyed the favour of the tribal elders, his skill with the spear heralded as a great boon to the tribe and he passed the first two trials of becoming a man (weaponry and wrestling) with ease. But Dig was held back by the final trial, a single major shortcoming in the eyes of the Gens tribe – he had never killed another man, a result of opportunity rather than desire, and therefore he could not become one himself, until today.


"

As I said it seems much improved. By the way; some think it wiser to post revisions in a new thread. It stops those that have already commented from thinking you are just arguing the toss with someone. Although this isn't compulsory

 

[LukeW]

Thanks TEIN, all very valid points and things for me to consider.

By the way; some think it wiser to post revisions in a new thread. It stops those that have already commented from thinking you are just arguing the toss with someone. Although this isn't compulsory

I thought it was considered bad etiquette to make multiple threads for a single piece of work. Anyway, My main concern was that the scene could hook people in which from the feedback I've received does. I'll leave this to rest for a few days then might make a new thread containing the rest of the scene once I feel comfortable with it myself.

Cheers

 

[Liz Bent]

For what it's worth, the second version is much improved over the first, nice work.

 

[Blackrook]

Chop out the first five paragraphs entirely and make the next four paragraphs the beginning of the story.