Improving our 75 Word Stories -- READ FIRST POST

@hopewrites, like the judge, i couldn't link the two parts of the story together. i liked the first part but i also wasn't sure what the vision was...
 
Hi Hope, I knew there was some sense to the whole but it escaped me after a few read-throughs. I figured there were references to something I didn't understand because of the colour of the text and use of the word wagon.

I've often found my own entries too pared down after the initial idea has been edited and maybe that's what happened here.

But I was just glad to see you participating back in the challenges again.

pH
 
That helps. Thanks guys :)
To clarify, the onion has a vision of what happens to it if it stays on the wagon and goes home with Farmer Maggot. Deciding it would rather not hang about to be tried and eatten, it rolls off the wagon where it gets tangled under the wheel and dies. The wagon blames itself for the onion's death, which isn't actually its fault.

One of the aspects of Abserdist fiction, according to the wiki page, is non-liner story telling. I think trying to use that has tripped up the sense of the story which is also anthropomorphizing non-anthropomorphic action. As the onion doesn't actually decide anything, it just falls off, the wagon jostled and sways because it's off balance after rolling over an onion, not out of guilt or grief.
 
The color did not distract me. But I was flummoxed about what was going on. I thought "truffle" was a candy and so I didn't go down the vegetable lane. I also could not make any connection to why the wagon thought it had committed murder. --- On the other hand the story was certainly absurd, so I wouldn't have counted off for that.
 
Err... Yes, I meant mushroom in the sense that hope said it, for the truffle. As in, not the candy one. Though I don't know why.
 
I've never met a non-candy truffle, but I know they are a thing.

Thun-kush was the sound of the wagon going over the onion, which it then thought it had murdered. I used color because it came to a toss up between the "that didn't happen. So this" ending and expanding on the courtroom drama. Having passed on speech tags, to prevent confusion I elected color. Purple for the judge, blue for the bailiff (who was a chocolate cream filled twizzel stick. He was also dating the Stenographer who was a pices of fudge.) yellow the onion.

Originally it was my kitchen where the trial was held, but when I pulled out of dream-sequence mode Onion was on the back of Farmer Maggot's wagon heading for an unexpected Rendezvous with the mushrooms in the front seat.

I think this was a case of too much going on for the word count and next time I'll Finesse my idea be for I post it. :)

Thanks again for all the good feedback.
 
I saw some problems with my December 75 word story, but couldn't see a way to fix them in 75 words.

The rhythm of the first three paragraphs didn't seem right.

I felt the story should have ended with an answer to the challenge that Micaela didn't have a soul. The actual ending, "drowned out Father Gallagher's voice" seemed petty to me.

After the entries closed, I saw a way to mend the second problem. Do you think the new version is better? How else could I improve this story?

The original version:

Mysterious Ways

"Please, Father." Mama's voice shook. "You can't leave my child in the blizzard."

Father Gallagher scowled. "That's no child, but a soulless creation of pipes and wires."

"I don't mind." Micaela hugged Mama, careful of fragile flesh and bone.

Cold thickened the oil within her while she listened to carols. She fell onto the snow, barely sensing the wind playing through pipes and wires.

The congregation gasped as that ethereal music drowned Father Fallagher's voice.

********
The (hopefully) improved version:

Mysterious Ways

"Please, Father." Mama's voice shook. "You can't leave my child in the blizzard."

Father Gallagher scowled. "That's no child, but a soulless creation of pipes and wires."

"I don't mind." Micaela hugged Mama, careful of fragile flesh and bone. "Goodbye."

Cold thickened the oil within her and she fell onto the snow. The wind played through her pipes and wires, singing of joy and splendour.

The congregation sighed as that ethereal music floated Heavenward.
 
I don't see a huge difference between the two versions, to be honest. I thought both were effective in getting the point across. Reading them together, one thing that stands out is the repeated phrase "pipes and wires." A different way to phrase that might be better. (Gears and metal tubes?)

I think the story is poignant enough whether or not Micaela is thought to have a soul or not.
 
I do like the second one better, but there isn't a great deal of difference. It was on my shortlist, regardless. :)
 
Thank you, Victoria and TDZ. That's very useful to know. I'm learning the technical writing skills, but I don't have a good sense of how other people perceive things.

That's a good observation on the repetition of "pipes and wires", Victoria.
 
I didn't have a problem with the rhythm as such of the first three lines, though I'm not fond of using non-dialogue tags repeatedly like that -- the first two were fine, but the third as set out I found disruptive. Actually, on reading quickly on my first pass of the stories I didn't cotton on it was Micaela speaking in the third line, nor that she was herself the robot, which caused some temporary confusion. Undoubtedly that was my faulty reading by being too quick and impatient, and I imagine I was the only one to have that exact problem. However, even on a re-read I don't think it's as obvious as it perhaps needs to be because the expectation is it's Mama going to be replying to the priest, so in my view in that instance it would have been better to get Micaela's name in first, eg 'Micaela hugged Mama, careful of fragile flesh and bone. "I don't mind. Goodbye." '

However, as nit-picky point, for me the use of "Mama" also caused some expectations which weren't fulfilled (and again this is likely to be my problem alone, but I thought I'd mention it for what it's worth). Used like that, as a name, unless Micaela has a human sibling who is allowed to stay in the church, the story must be being told in Micaela's very close POV, and I'd really have expected her narration to be in first person. So for me it made it awkward to have Micaela's name written as if she's thinking of herself in the third person, and then the loss of her POV at the end by lurching into the congregation worsened it. I'm not sure how to get around that problem, though -- in a longer story I would have a human sibling watching, but in 75 words, that's pushing it! I did wonder about using the priest's POV, which would tie in with my thoughts about the ending in the next para, but that would lose the sympathetic tone of the opening (unless you made it into two sections with a * between to denote the change).

As for the end, no, I didn't see you were aiming to prove she had a soul, but I'm not convinced the re-write overcomes that either (but I'm not a subtle reader of the 75s, I'm afraid, and I rather only look on the surface for what is actually said, rather than what might be implied). I think I'd have tried to bring in Mama or Father G again, rather than the congregation -- eg Father G hears the ethereal sound and realises he is wrong, which would have produced a double unexpected ending, the fact she has a soul, and that a man of his stripe can acknowledge his mistake. Difficult in 75 words, but do-able, I think.

Overall, I liked the idea, but it wasn't quite there for me as a story, raising questions which couldn't be answered (why are they packing into -- presumably -- the church, notoriously cold as places, why not leave the robot at home if she's not allowed in there, why doesn't Mama go outside and freeze with her, why don't we see Mama weeping? I'm not a subtle reader but I am a questioning one!). More importantly, for me, it wasn't steam-punkish enough with just talk of pipes and wires -- and I know my own entry fell woefully short of that, so I can sympathise -- and my poor reading of it meant I missed the theme here, too. Sorry!
 
Thank you, TJ. Your reply answers one of my questions about writing for the challenges: Which technical elements can I afford to ignore in order to fit within the word-limit? Not POV, obviously.

I was aware of the POV shift from Micaela to the congregation, but I decided to ignore it and hope that POV was obvious from context. I wasn't aware of the POV confusion implicit in the use of "Micaela" and "Mama" in the same sentence.

The issue about cold churches escaped me; I'm unfamiliar with both churches and cold climates. I would have liked to show Micaela's Mama grieving , but this was another sacrifice to word limits.

Hopefully, I'm better placed to write an enthralling Weird Western story.
 
I've not been following this thread too closely, or offering my darlings up for assessment, but I was disappointed with the poor reception of my story. I'd cursed Vaz (as in candles, pins, frogs eyes and newt's tails) for making me write a Steampunk Western in the SS so when I saw the genre I automatically decided to miss this month.

However, they're challenges for a reason, and I can't moan when others moan about genre choice, and not enter, so I spent the entire open period consumed with IcanIcan't and the obsessive side of me won.

With my story, I got three mentions and zero votes. I wondered if this was because it was unclear, not steampunk enough/at all, poorly written, or what...

Was it just up against too many good ones, or was it really a load of ol' Swarfega?

We Two Kings

Two Orient drones belched across The Rustplains, lead by a polished aerial starcog.
Gaskar's Phrygian Capstan really itched. He scratched it.
'I warned you about those Thracian wingnuts,' Alumelchior whirred.
Oh, shut down, you silvery snob.
The starcog settled over a mine; 'Ta-da!' Inside something glittered in swaddling tarps.
'What is it?'
'Solid state,' the Virgin Server replied, wires spilling from every interface, 'A new generation.'
'Dammit. Get Boltasar; we'll need myrrh after all.'

pH
 
There's nothing particularly wrong with this. One problem you may have had is that there were a very large number of stories that dealt with the holiday season in one way or another. I can't speak for anybody else, but I am the least Christmasy person on the planet, so I got kind of burnt out on them.

Otherwise, the anachronistic technology is fine. (Some people would demand that it literally be steam, but I just think of "steampunk" as technologically anachronistic fantasy, so this fits.) The wordplay is clever, and the whole thing is amusing.
 
I agree that there's nothing particularly wrong with it. The only thing that jumps out at me when I try to pin something down is the names, with the large amount of capitalized things -- it slows me down, sorting out what's important and trying to see if I missed an important reference. (Well, and that word is "led". :D ) Other than that, it's clever, and I didn't have any problem with the Christmas stuff. I thought it was awesome that so many people just made the theme Christmas even though it wasn't. :)
 
I found We Two Kings inaccessible, which is arguably my problem, rather than a problem with the story. In a less crowded month, I might have tried to parse the content and allusions, although I doubt if I would have voted for it.

Individually, the sentences are wonderfully written - original, evocative and, at times, lyrical. However, I had trouble following the story - and it is a story competition.

Three examples:
I was not sure whether Gaskar was a drone, a starcog or something else entirely.
How did the wingnut relate to the itchy Capstan?
I didn't know what the mine was - a landline, a coal mine or the possessive sort of mine.
 
Ti, I found your submitted version the more poignant of the two. (One thatstuck with me, and if I'd've got round to voting would have at very least been short listed)
I found it to be less to me about whether the mechanical daughter had a soul, than the humanity of the supposed spiritual leader who forbids her entry. So the change to the ending lessened the impact, as it absolved him his inhuman treatment and bigotry in favor of a happier ending.

Just my opinion though :)

Phyre, I'm afraid I didn't follow at all. Granted, I assume that's all on me for not knowing enough about ether the subject, or the tech it's being retold through. And I do apologize for not taking the time to better acquaint myself with one or the other.
 
@TitaniumTi I'm a little late to the party so I won't reiterate what other folks have said already but I found this line:
TitaniumTi said:
Cold thickened the oil within her and she fell onto the snow. The wind played through her pipes and wires, singing of joy and splendour.
Click to expand...

...was a big improvement on the original. It's a cliché, I know, but the second sentence of the new version is "show" rather than "tell" and works much better for me.

That said, I preferred the original ending line. The congregation gasping is much more dramatic than them sighing and overall it feels more 'weighty' as a final line. I might've swapped in 'the' for 'that' in 'that ethereal music' but that's probably just personal preference.
 

My spell checker hates me.​
I'm not expecting much help in versification - even if you aren't the sort who 'never reads poetry, don't understand it' (which I consider quite a reasonable argument) it is so subjective that it's practically impossible to help anyone. No, what I wondered was, does my occasional invention of words which the English language has failed to offer - in this one 'terrortry' which is not a misspelling of 'territory' (which would have a syllable too many, anyway) but a concept translated from cat, signifying a domain established and maintained through fear, rather than force of arms or sharpness of claw? The use of 'foodbowl' rather than two words is covered by leaving a word or two spare - otherwise, for the rhythm it would have been:- 'I am still here, while he is long away'. Of course, if anyone has any suggestions for improvements, I'm listening, though the three votes per person has given more response to this one than any recent, and several mentions - perhaps better that I just forget about it.

Guardian

Compete with hedgehogs for my food
Eschewing blame, nor pardon
The pampered indoors see me 'crude'
My terrortry the garden.
The youngsters play, lawn-leap with growls and snarlings
But dusk sees their retreat within, my little darlings

Torn ear. from combat with a stray
Who tried to share my saucer
I'm still here, he is long away
Relentless barrier enforcer
The foodbowl impacts doorstep, where is
My daily offering of broken fairies.​
 
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