New (well, strictly speaking, old) Project

[Glen]

I've picked up an old story which was started, but never finished. There is no shortage of these things in my portfolio. It's a blend of genres, with sci-fi elements but a bit of good old-fashioned horror in there too. Well, why stick to one genre when you can have two.

I was pleasantly surprised by it when I read through it, but, you know, you shouldn't laugh at your own jokes.

This extract is from page eight where the reader might be starting to guess what kind of being this is, but it isn't revealed until shortly after this extract. And there a couple of things in this clip that you wouldn't get without the previous scene-setting.

What do you think?


---------------------------------------------------------------


I roll with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me, and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after. I land on the balls of my feet, legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before ready to parry or punch. I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting. I feel in this moment a sense of the old power, and the gang look like so many bedraggled rats. Their cheap, tawdry jackets insufficient to keep them dry in this increasing rain.


There is a sublime moment of silence. Not silence for I hear the rain spattering against the walls and paving. A moment of… stillness, beauty, inevitability. The gang are quiet, stilled by my acrobatics and martial stance; quiet and watchful. The weight of the situation has changed, gravity has shifted; I am now in the ascendency.


The melee. It is a speciality of mine. I take great satisfaction from the successful conclusion of a disordered brawl. Because, you see, they are not disordered. Each man reacts to the situation in his own way. He uses his skills to interpret and respond. But each man will interpret only what he is able to sense. And many men in a melee sense only a fist closing with their face, or a boot closing with their testicles, or a bludgeon closing with a limb. In short, they do not sense enough. They are laboratory mice reacting to the most immediate stimulus. While I hoard each stimulus from before and during the fight and construct it into an elaborate framework, a gameboard, through which I conduct my offensive.


This is one of the reasons I will gather information for no real good reason – when not in a melee. Such as tallying words, nods, gestures for and against me after that last altercation in the last suburb. I might be right or wrong, but the effort involved expands my consciousness. I become generally more aware of my surroundings. I am more aware of the architectural spaces I am in, of the people around me, the attitude of the people, their words, actions, gestures.


In a melee this information is priceless. I work a brawl like a chess game. I am several moves ahead. I work trajectories: figuring out how to move so that I will take out one protagonist while moving to the next. It is like billiards or pool. I do not just sink a ball, I work out where to leave the cue ball so that I can take the next shot, and the one after that. So that I can win. Trying to dodge a kick to the balls is not the way to win a fight. One should anticipate that kick, make it impossible, or return it, and take the next move. I recall fights that have lasted an hour or more. Dozens of men. Dozens of us. Fighting through an elaborate maze of deception and aggression. I remember a fight in a twilit field with wagons laden with hay, haystacks, wenches, yes, wenches, with their dresses low over their ample cleavages looking on and screaming passionately as far too many farmers and farm hands with pitchforks and spades tried to bring an end to me. I remember a fight in a Venetian theatre, of all places, where spaces were confined and some of the protagonists were in costume, as if just stepped from the stage with masks still in place. The fight spilled from backstage, onto the stage and back again, I remember using the tight corridors to gain advantage, stepping against the walls to rise, gain height and descend with crushing force. I remember the rich smell of spilled wines and cakes sent crashing into walls. I remember dirty fights like this one. Knifes pulled at the last minute, sneering, snivelling faces, dirty alleys stacked with crates and barrels. I remember in each of them the moves. Steps, swings, dodges. Each fight an unrepeatable dance. Each dance had its own flavour, its own smell, and its own set of weapons. Weapons either brought to the stage by the actors or found. I remember shoving the bristle end of a broom into a hoodlums face in a kind of comedy, slapstick move that bought me a needed moment of time. And I remember smashing a broken lump of concrete into a man’s face, almost certainly killing him, but removing that source of menace. If he had not been attacking me with a knife I would almost certainly not have bludgeoned him to death.


The melee.


It is a dirty business.

 

[Warren_Paul]

Hey, Glen. I think the biggest problem I have with this piece is that it's really hard to pull out the actual action amongst all those thoughts. The person is thinking far, far too much to even understand what's going on. And you really need to break up that last paragraph; it's a wall of text that would put anyone off reading it.

I did like the first couple of paragraphs though, and would have much preferred the action to continue without him remembering all the fights. Comparing it to chess and pool and thinking ahead is all good, but filter it between his actual fighting, rather than having one big paragraph of I remember this, I remember that.

There is a feeling that builds in this scene that reminded me of a slow-motion fighting scene that we would see in the Matrix or Underworld movies, and if you replace most of the memories with actions of the current fight he is in the middle of, I think you could pull that feeling off quite well. Although the memories are quite amusing, so don't get rid of them altogether. It's just that they are overdoing it a bit all bundled together like this.

For part of it, you fall a bit into the "I Trap" where you start so many sentences with "I" that it becomes painfully noticeable. The pattern of I remember also becomes noticeable in the last paragraph.

I roll with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me, and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after. I land on the balls of my feet, legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before ready to parry or punch. I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting. I feel in this moment a sense of the old power, and the gang look like so many bedraggled rats. Their cheap, tawdry jackets insufficient to keep them dry in this increasing rain.


There is a sublime moment of silence. -A bit of a contradiction. Is there silence, or isn't there?- Not silence for I hear the rain spattering against the walls and paving. A moment of… stillness, beauty, inevitability. The gang are quiet, stilled by my acrobatics and martial stance; quiet and watchful. The weight of the situation has changed, gravity has shifted; I am now in the ascendency.


The melee. It is a speciality of mine. I take great satisfaction from the successful conclusion of a disordered brawl. Because, you see, they are not disordered. Each man reacts to the situation in his own way. He uses his skills to interpret and respond. But each man will interpret only what he is able to sense. And many men in a melee sense only a fist closing with their face, or a boot closing with their testicles, or a bludgeon closing with a limb. In short, they do not sense enough. They are laboratory mice reacting to the most immediate stimulus. While I hoard each stimulus from before and during the fight and construct it into an elaborate framework, a gameboard, through which I conduct my offensive.


This is one of the reasons I will gather information for no real good reason – when not in a melee. Such as tallying words, nods, gestures for and against me after that last altercation in the last suburb. I might be right or wrong, but the effort involved expands my consciousness. I become generally more aware of my surroundings. I am more aware of the architectural spaces I am in, of the people around me, the attitude of the people, their words, actions, gestures.


In a melee this information is priceless. I work a brawl like a chess game. I am several moves ahead. I work trajectories: figuring out how to move so that I will take out one protagonist while moving to the next. It is like billiards or pool. I do not just sink a ball, I work out where to leave the cue ball so that I can take the next shot, and the one after that. So that I can win. Trying to dodge a kick to the balls is not the way to win a fight. One should anticipate that kick, make it impossible, or return it, and take the next move. I recall fights that have lasted an hour or more. Dozens of men. Dozens of us. Fighting through an elaborate maze of deception and aggression. I remember a fight in a twilit field with wagons laden with hay, haystacks, wenches, yes, wenches, with their dresses low over their ample cleavages looking on and screaming passionately as far too many farmers and farm hands with pitchforks and spades tried to bring an end to me. I remember a fight in a Venetian theatre, of all places, where spaces were confined and some of the protagonists were in costume, as if just stepped from the stage with masks still in place. The fight spilled from backstage, onto the stage and back again,. -comma splice- I remember using the tight corridors to gain advantage, stepping against the walls to rise, gain height and descend with crushing force. I remember the rich smell of spilled wines and cakes sent crashing into walls. I remember dirty fights like this one. Knifes pulled at the last minute, sneering, snivelling faces, dirty alleys stacked with crates and barrels. I remember in each of them the moves. Steps, swings, dodges. Each fight an unrepeatable dance. Each dance had its own flavour, its own smell, and its own set of weapons. Weapons either brought to the stage by the actors or found. I remember shoving the bristle end of a broom into a hoodlums face in a kind of comedy, slapstick move that bought me a needed moment of time. And I remember smashing a broken lump of concrete into a man’s face, almost certainly killing him, but removing that source of menace. If he had not been attacking me with a knife I would almost certainly not have bludgeoned him to death.

 

[J Riff]

Now he has to go ahead and clobber these punks. I'm guessing he's a Vampire, or an Alien who has lived for thousands of years and still enjoys beating up human beings.
Cant tell w/out the preamble, but that last paragraph might be better off broken up a bit. You can try longer sentences to get rid of some 'I remember' or just use a dash "...trying to bring an end to me - a fight in a Venusian theater.."

 

[Victoria Silverwolf]

I found this to be very unusual, not at all the typical "action" scene, but rather a meditative interior monologue. I really don't know what to make of it, to be honest.

Something about the present tense got under my skin. I might very tentatively suggest that the "action" part of this scene (the first two paragraphs, let's say) might work better in past tense, and that the "meditative" part might work better in present tense.

I'm not explaining this very well, so let me show you what I mean.

I chopped a white onion into dice and threw it into the pan full of hot oil. I stirred the tiny cubes quickly until they were translucent. The kitchen was full of their savory odor.

When I make a stir fry I like to add the ingredients one at a time, cooking each one for just the right amount of time.

In this rather silly example, do you see how the narration moves naturally from past tense to present tense, when I move from "action" to "meditation"?

 

[Stephen4444]

I roll with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me, and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after.

In writing first person, it is easy to fall into the I trap. It gets monotonous to read prose that every other sentence starts with “I.” I ate. I slept. I woke up. I went to the bathroom. I went to work. After eating supper, I slept; and upon waking, went to the bathroom.

(Opinion,) I feel that the above sentence would sound better if you rewrote it. Rolling with the fall, my head and shoulders tucked under as legs swing out performing a summersault. The skirts of my coat whipping around and following my every motion; snapping in the air.

The first sentence read a little jerky.

[I]DELETE [l]Land[]ing on the balls of my feet, [legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before]DELETE I'm ready to parry or punch.

[ I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting.] ITALICS

I know how to street fight…

I feel that it would read better, if you write, as you would say this statement. I don’t know, maybe you talk like this? You can forget the Italics If this is the only character in the chapter with dialog or thoughts, but… If you have another character with dialog or inner dialog, you invite confusion by not using them.

[ I feel]DELETE [i]In this moment there is a sense of the []”old power[]”, and the gang looks like [so many]DELETE bedraggled rats[.] … with [T]their cheap, tawdry jackets[]; insufficient [to keep them dry]DELETE in this[]… increasing rain.

[There is]DELETE a sublime moment of silence[.]… [Not silence] or not, for I hear the rain spattering against the [walls and]DELETE paving. There is [A]a moment of[…]DELETE stillness[,]… beauty, and inevitability.

The gang [are quiet]DELETE, stilled by my acrobatics [and martial stance;]DELETE, become quiet and watchful. The weight of the situation [has changed]TENSE changes, gravity [has shifted] shifts[;], and I am now in the [ascendency] AE spelling is ascendancy.

The pluperfect is not correct here, unless you plan to change tenses in the middle of your prose, which is confusing. If you are changing tense then you need to rewrite this so there is a clear designation of time change.

[The melee.] THIS FRAGMENTED SENTENCE IS DISTRACTING It is a [speciality] AE SPECIALTY of mine. I take great satisfaction from the successful conclusion of a disordered brawl.

I’m a melee specialist, taking satisfaction from successful conclusions to disorderly brawls.

[Because]DELETE

You have a subordinate clause after this “because,” but you do not have a main clause and you should not use it. (Sometimes) you can use a conjunction at the beginning of a sentence to emphasize a strong point or in a quote, but… you do neither here.

[,]DELETE [y]You see, [they]brawls are not disordered[.], [E]each man reacts to the situation in his own way. He uses [his]DELETE skills to interpret and respond[.]; [But]DELETE each man [will interpret]interpreting [only]DELETE what he is able to sense. [And]DELETE [m]Many men in a melee[], sense only a fist closing with their face, [or]DELETE a boot closing with their testicles, or a bludgeon closing with a limb. [In short, they do not sense enough.]DELETE They are laboratory mice reacting to the most immediate stimulus. [While]DELETE I hoard each stimulus[]; [from]DELETE before and during the fight [and]to construct [it into an] elaborate framework[]s [,]. The framework is a [gameboard]AE GAME BOARD[,]DELETE through which I conduct my offensive.

[This is]DELETE [o]One [of the]DELETE reason[s]DELETE I [will]DELETE gather information[ for no real good reason –]DELETE when not in a melee[.] , [S]such as tallying words, nods, and gestures [for and against me after that last altercation in the last suburb.] is to expand my consciousness. I might be [right or]DELETE wrong, but the effort [involved expands my consciousness]DELETE is well worth it. [I become generally]DELETE becoming [more]DELETE aware of my surroundings[.], [I am more aware of]DELETE includes the architectural spaces [I am in]DELETE, [of]DELETE the people around me, [the]DELETE attitude [of the people]DELETE, [their]DELETE words, actions, and their gestures.

 

[hopewrites]

Didnt read what the others had to say. OMG!! I LOVED IT! the narrators voice fit so perfectly with my own. his thoughts followed where mine would have gone. It was like reading me as someone else. *mind blown*
please finish it, I would love to read the whole thing.

 

[Bowler1]

I roll with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me, and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after. Editing full stop here I land on the balls of my feet, legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before ready to parry or punch. I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting. I feel in this moment a sense of the old power, and the gang look like so many bedraggled rats. Their cheap, tawdry jackets insufficient to keep them dry in this increasing rain.


There is a sublime moment of silence. Not silence comma pause here I think for I hear the rain spattering against the walls and paving. A moment of… stillness, beauty, inevitability. The gang are quiet, stilled by my acrobatics and martial stance; quiet and watchful. The weight of the situation has changed, gravity has shifted; I am now in the ascendency.


The last big section I skimmed. To be honest, 400 words taking about action to come was too much for me, why not just cut to the fight scene?

The posted section was all narrative, good narrative, but I did wonder why no-one said anything. Glen, I think you do action well, and the up-coming fight has a lot of promise. But my reader tolerance was pushed heavily with this section. It was far too much internal musing from the character to hold my interest much longer. I felt you needed to move on with the action and break up the large narrative section. I think; presenting the reader with large blocks of text is very off putting. So surprisingly, the pace was too slow for me, nothing had actually happened.

 

[Glen]

Thanks again. I really appreciate your taking the time.
Thanks to all for the feedback.

Here's a bit of feedback on each post, and then a comment or two on this present tense thing.

Warren Paul - I hear what you're saying about the mix of interior dialogue and the fight. For me it's part of his character. That's one of the things he does - sift through the meta-data of his situations. And it's part of his drug-withdrawal too.

Now, the 'I' thing. I'll really have to check this out. It's part of my perennial problem of wanting to write everything in the present tense. And there is a bit of rhythm to it that I quite like. Point taken.

J Riff - You're a good guesser! Sorry he doesn't get to clobber the punks. It's too early in the story, he has to go downhill a bit first. You're right - there are a lot of "I remember"s! 7 in that passage, 14 in the whole ms. I'll have to do something about that.

Victoria Silverwolf - Mmmmmm...stir fry... I do see what you mean. Clearly the present tense approach doesn't sit well with lots of folk. Its a big problem for me, because past tense doesn't sit very well with me.

Stephen4444 - thanks for taking so much time on this. There's a lot to think about there, and I'll spend more time working through this, but some of this I think is a difference of style preferences. I like fragments. I would guess you prefer a more reasoned, flowing sentence. Interesting comments about the voice too. I don't speak like that at all (I speak like someone from Yorkshire and would perhaps be unintelligible to you), but I felt the character might speak like that - he is three hundred and thirty seven years old. Similar thing with the "Because" starting a sentence: it might not be right, but I think it gives the kind of voice this character might have.

I'm also not clear on your comment on pluperfect. It feels ok to me to have the character be in the present, but then reflect on something that has happened perhaps ten seconds ago: in the present he is analysing the immediate past.

Hopewrites - thank you, thank you, thank you. It feels good to get some straightforward positive feedback, and no mistake. Clearly you have excellent taste :0) If you like you can be first beta reader if I get to the end. I'm aiming for somewhere before end June.

Bowler - I think you make a great point about pace. There is more internal musing before this section, so perhaps the audience would be hoping the character got a fantastic kicking by the time we reached the fight scene. That's not the first comment that has suggested the action is more important than the inner self. Interesting.

Present tense - I feel comfortable with it. I like reading it. It seems close and personal. Past tense feels false to me. Past tense feels like an omniscient narrator, or someone who must have made it through the story to be in a comfortable enough position to tell it back. Sometimes that works (hobbit? life of pi?), but othertimes I just lose interest in the tale. I'm sure there is the occasional story where the narrator turns out to be dead, or some such, but, you know, the exception that proves the rule.

But, but, still and all, I get this feedback every time I post something. It is not the accepted, best way of writing. I do sometimes write past tense, but I don't seem to enjoy it anywhere near as much. It's a problem, for sure.

Thanks again to everyone for taking the time.

 

[The Judge]

Just to say I also liked this -- the present tense didn't worry me at all (and I didn't notice any change of tense which was wrong in context) nor the repeated "I", and I liked his voice and his slightly over-elaborate way of think-speaking. To my mind the whole internal monologue reflects the fact that he is somehow standing outside time as he waits for the others to react -- in the same way top-class batsmen playing fast bowlers operate on a different time to the rest of us.

The repetition of "I remember" also worked for me, but it might work even better if it were prefaced with something like "Whenever I fight, I recall all the other fights" which then makes a virtue of the remembering. I'd also suggest breaking up that last long paragraph into two or even three -- cutting it down in size might also be an idea since once we've grasped the concept we don't need to be bludgeoned to death like his oppponents!

However, although I liked this as a rather unusual piece here, I don't know how forgiving I'd be if everything were to be written in exactly this way and the action never proceeds into, well, action at some point -- even if it's only the baddies running away from him. It's important to be able to vary pace and tone of a scene.

Finally, if I were nit-picking there's some punctuation I'd do differently but only three things irritated me (and I'm easily irritated! ):
-- "ascendency" It's a legitimate alternative spelling, but to me didn't fit in that phrase since I don't think one is in the ascendency, one is simply ascendent (I actually wanted "I am in the ascendent" but that's more still climbing towards ascendence, so isn't quite right for him here, perhaps)
-- "ample cleavage" That seemed a bit mealy-mouthed/unnecessarily coy in the circumstances, and strictly refers only to the gap between the breasts, not the breasts themselves.
-- "knifes" -- knives.

If you enjoy writing in first, write in first. Some people might not like it -- I'm not overfond of it myself for any length of time -- but you have it under tight control which is the important thing and you write well with it.

 

[Cosmic Geoff]

Yes it's quite good. It's also an unusual style of writing. The long final paragraph has some good stuff in it.
If I can add my two-penny worth:- it will be a bit much for the average reader, who will want far less reminiscing, and to see the action moving forwards. That long final paragraph is very hard to read.

 

[Glen]

Thanks again for the new posts.

The Judge - Thanks for the positive feedback, the "we don't need to be bludgeoned to death like his oppponents!" gag, and the encouragement. I really appreciate it.

You've nailed what I was trying to achieve with the sense of standing outside time. The action starts almost immediately after. The last line of the extract is the 'punctuation' that ends his reverie, and then the fists start swinging, and half a page later his true nature is revealed for the first time. That whole section is a bit like the lull before the storm.

'Knifes' - I could kick myself. 'Cleavage' I know exactly what you mean - this whole piece was written in the 2011 NaNoWriMo so it is just as it came out without any subsequent editing (apart from whatever editing I did 'in camera'). The cleavage will have to come out...so to speak. Now, ascendency, not sure about this: "the state of being in the ascendant". When I try to think it through my head burns, but it still seems ok to me.

Thanks again.

Cosmic Geoff - Thanks also. You're right that last long para is a sticking point for many.

--------

Another observation. I've spotted the word 'unusual' applied to my writing in this thread, and a blog comment, in the same way as you all are spotting 'I' and 'I remember' in the extract.

Unusual.

I don't know whether to be thrilled or appalled! Well, really, I do know. I'm thrilled!

 

[stephen.samuels]

Glen, I agree with Judge and I do think you did achieve, what you set out to, but I would break up the last paragraph.

 

[Jo Zebedee]

I roll with the fall.I'd have preferred a comma as the head and shoulders are part of rolling with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me,This is where I'd break it and then you could change the legs to kick and get rid of the continuous ing, make it more active? and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after. I land on the balls of my feet, legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before - delete? ready to parry or punch. I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting. I feel in this moment a sense of the old power, and the gang look like so many bedraggled rats. Their cheap, tawdry jackets are insufficient to keep them dry in this increasing rain.




The melee. It is a speciality of mine. I take great satisfaction from the successful conclusion of a disordered brawl. Because, you see, they are not disordered. Each man reacts to the situation in his own way. He uses his skills to interpret and respond. But each man will interpret only what he is able to sense. And many men in a melee sense only a fist closing with their face, or a boot closing with their testicles, or a bludgeon closing with a limb. In short, they do not sense enough. They are laboratory mice reacting to the most immediate stimulus. While I hoard each stimulus from before and during the fight and construct it into an elaborate framework, a gameboard, through which I conduct my offensive.I'm kind of wondering why he's standing there thinking all this instead of getting on with it. And I kind of stayed like that... the description was nice, but it seems the wrong place for it. I would have liked it before the somersaulting first paragraph; maybe as the gang was approaching. As an out of time moment, it seemed to go too long for me.

 

[AnyaKimlin]

I roll with the fall. My head and shoulders tucked under me, and my legs kicking out to turn me over in a somersault with the skirts of my coat whipping around after. I land on the balls of my feet, legs slightly bent at the knees, arms before ready to parry or punch. I am not without skill in this kind of street fighting. I feel in this moment a sense of the old power, and the gang look like so many bedraggled rats. Their cheap, tawdry jackets insufficient to keep them dry in this increasing rain.

It could be because it is a later scene but for me it was like yeah ok he rolled with the fall. Someone who was that skilled would put a lot less thought into it and it would just happen. With present tense I have found it better not to be too descriptive with positioning or it sounds a little like you are controlling marionettes. (I am not remotely anti present tense having written two novels in it). Should I already know more about the size of the gang etc ? If so move the description of their jackets to before the first punch. Is it raining>? Do we already know that? We do not need to know he is skilled because of his actions and the results we already know that.

There is a sublime moment of silence. Not silence for I hear the rain spattering against the walls and paving. A moment of… stillness, beauty, inevitability. The gang are quiet, stilled by my acrobatics and martial stance; quiet and watchful. The weight of the situation has changed, gravity has shifted; I am now in the ascendency.

This again could be chopped, creating more movement and losing no meaning. He also is beginning to sound a bit up himself - maybe that is your intention? This is also the way my husband speaks when he is scared, full of bravado. Also as this is first person he would not know what had stilled the gang. Something like: A moment of stillness... the gang are quiet, stunned at my unexpected response maybe? I am quiet and watchful, judging the next move. The battle has changed.

The melee. It is a speciality of mine. I take great satisfaction from the successful conclusion of a disordered brawl. Because, you see, they are not disordered. Each man reacts to the situation in his own way. He uses his skills to interpret and respond. But each man will interpret only what he is able to sense. And many men in a melee sense only a fist closing with their face, or a boot closing with their testicles, or a bludgeon closing with a limb. In short, they do not sense enough. They are laboratory mice reacting to the most immediate stimulus. While I hoard each stimulus from before and during the fight and construct it into an elaborate framework, a gameboard, through which I conduct my offensive.

Again use the fight to show he is skilled and it is his specialty.

This is one of the reasons I will gather information for no real good reason – when not in a melee. Such as tallying words, nods, gestures for and against me after that last altercation in the last suburb. I might be right or wrong, but the effort involved expands my consciousness. I become generally more aware of my surroundings. I am more aware of the architectural spaces I am in, of the people around me, the attitude of the people, their words, actions, gestures.

OK melee is used as a word too often - and is this moment of stillness still going on? Can tell the gang aren't very skilled. Also suggests your character isn't as he is too busy thinking about past conquests and not focusing on the current one.

In a melee this information is priceless. I work a brawl like a chess game. I am several moves ahead. I work trajectories: figuring out how to move so that I will take out one protagonist while moving to the next. It is like billiards or pool. I do not just sink a ball, I work out where to leave the cue ball so that I can take the next shot, and the one after that. So that I can win. Trying to dodge a kick to the balls is not the way to win a fight. One should anticipate that kick, make it impossible, or return it, and take the next move. I recall fights that have lasted an hour or more. Dozens of men. Dozens of us. Fighting through an elaborate maze of deception and aggression. I remember a fight in a twilit field with wagons laden with hay, haystacks, wenches, yes, wenches, with their dresses low over their ample cleavages looking on and screaming passionately as far too many farmers and farm hands with pitchforks and spades tried to bring an end to me. I remember a fight in a Venetian theatre, of all places, where spaces were confined and some of the protagonists were in costume, as if just stepped from the stage with masks still in place. The fight spilled from backstage, onto the stage and back again, I remember using the tight corridors to gain advantage, stepping against the walls to rise, gain height and descend with crushing force. I remember the rich smell of spilled wines and cakes sent crashing into walls. I remember dirty fights like this one. Knifes pulled at the last minute, sneering, snivelling faces, dirty alleys stacked with crates and barrels. I remember in each of them the moves. Steps, swings, dodges. Each fight an unrepeatable dance. Each dance had its own flavour, its own smell, and its own set of weapons. Weapons either brought to the stage by the actors or found. I remember shoving the bristle end of a broom into a hoodlums face in a kind of comedy, slapstick move that bought me a needed moment of time. And I remember smashing a broken lump of concrete into a man’s face, almost certainly killing him, but removing that source of menace. If he had not been attacking me with a knife I would almost certainly not have bludgeoned him to death.


The melee.


It is a dirty business.

This could be made a lot better by actually showing how the melee or brawl that he is in unfolds. For me personally it makes him seem like a rank amateur who thinks he knows what he is doing rather than a seasoned fighter who gets on with the business of beating folk up.

Too much information for me. Although it is descriptive and well written - it did not completely turn me off, I read to the end but much more and I'd have wanted to show the gang how to finish him off.. To be honest at this point the character is starting to annoy me by seeming a bit up himself and one of those people who talks a talk but can't actually walk the walk.

 

[Glen]

I think I'm hearing a bit of a common theme about that long para - too long!

This character is arrogant, inward-looking, unsocial. He is also fallen - he has lost a lot, including his freedom, his birthright, his health, clear cognition even. He is heartbroken, alone.

He also, you may be pleased to learn, gets a massive kicking in the third para after this extract. Massive kicking. It's quite a long paragraph though!