Cosmic Geoff
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- Jun 14, 2012
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It’s many months since I’ve really looked at the opening of this novel, and in the interim I’ve written the following volume and made a start at roughing out a Book IV.
Looking at this yesterday I had the feeling that it was rather awful, and even more clunky than some of the newbie openings I’ve been criticising of late. It has some history, in that I took the first draft of Chapter 1 to my local writers’ group, they delivered their verdict, and I revised the text.
I have two ideas on how to start fixing it – one is to extend the present opener with a kind of meta-opening, where Starsin thinks that arriving with his companions at the city is a bit like the opening of a story, and reflects on what happened to them in the previous chapters, and if they’re less likely to be murdered within the walls.
The other idea is to junk the opening scene and start with the second scene which is flagged ¾ of the way through the text below.
Chapter 1
Starsin, the lead rider, scowled at the dark man beside him, then turned in his saddle to call out to the red-haired woman behind. "What's going on here? That line of people?"
"I can't really see, Star. I presume they're checking the people entering the city."
"Checking? I don't like this." As a male, and the highest-ranked member of the party, Starsin supposed that he should take responsibility for getting them into the city unchallenged. Ahead of him a line of people and carts waited to get through the brick arch on the far side of the moat bridge. The city wall appeared to be of solid stone, at least forty feet high, and outside it flowed a wide moat, or canal. The road crossed the moat by a permanent bridge of wood. Twin arches spanned the road between squat stone towers; part of Chazu's outer defensive wall. There were three women in Starsin’s party. All three women wore loose jackets and trews that hid their figures. Of the the first two one was fair the other dark; the third following behind had short reddish hair. The animals they rode had six legs.
The woman with short red hair kneed her animal to close up with him. "Shut up, Star. It's just routine. You think they're personally looking for you?"
Falcon, also known as Starsin, bore Lannaira's well-aimed sarcasm. Ahead, voices shouted, urging the travellers forward. Carts creaked into motion. Some way inside the city, three slim towers with shafts of a startling turquoise blue soared into the sky. A large object, a kind of kite, waved above the top of each.
The hooves of their six-legged sho'ats drummed on the planks of the bridge. Starsin passed a remark on the scale of the defences, but black-haired Rurnik beside him did not reply. The great timber gates stood open, and to judge by the grit and rubbish piled against them they were closed but rarely. The arch vault was in shadow. Two militiamen poked at the contents of carts and flipped open packs, accompanied by a saffron-robed religious official who held a disc bound with metal. Starsin eyed it with unease. They were clearly checking for any objects that emitted dangerous rays, and he hoped none of his party had picked up anything that would make the disc glow.
Lannaira, a tall, thin woman, urged her sho'at mount forwards. She touched his arm and pointed to herself, indicating that she would do the talking. The couple ahead of them were saying something about a chariot race.
A militiaman's mailed arm barred their way. "What's your business here?"
"We've come to watch the chariot races."
The militiaman grunted. "Where you from?"
"The drylands."
"Alright, move it." He waved them on.
Starsin looked up. Over his head was a drop-gate suspended high above the roadway, its timbers grey and rotted with age. On the inner side of the gate passage was a guardroom, from which soldiers in the brightly coloured Calomel uniform, of glass, silk braid and cane strips, watched the travellers as they passed.
"What was that holdup about?" said Shell, the blonde woman.
"They're more attentive than usual," said Lannaira. "Maybe the Virnals are worried about unrest."
"Starsin looked worried," said Rurnik with a sneer.
Starsin ignored him, annoyed. It was true; as a fugitive he did not welcome scrutiny.
The dark-haired woman said nothing.
They rode on, into the sunlight and noise of a city street.
"How will we contact the Sharyns?" Starsin asked Lannaira. "Are we going now?"
Lannaira shook her head "We need to be careful."
Starsin had not expected to see open spaces within the city, where plots of vegetable crops adjoined low buildings, and where water glinted in ditches. Further off, there were ornately planted parks and gardens, and beyond lay shining domed roofs of palaces or temples.
Lannaira's attention was caught by a column of smoke drifting across an open plot, and she urged her sho'at towards it. The others were obliged to follow. At a line of flags on cord which barred their way, she stopped, dismounted and ducked under it. Starsin felt a sharp, unhealthy odour tickle his nose.
"What, it's one of those things? And inside the city?"
The depression was three feet across, crusted and black, and in the middle hot cinders glowed and smoked. Down a crack yellow heat sparkled. There was a mixed smell of burnt organics and hot mineral. Lannaira fumbled in her jacket and pulled out a crumpled paper. She ran her finger down the text, then, pointing at the hole, began to read from the paper. The words made no sense to her companions.
Starsin tried to guess her motives. Saying a prayer? Quoting some ancient poem? No, she must be trying to discover something about the burning-pit. Their three companions still looked bemused. Ussha, the deaf-mute girl, was waving away the fumes with one sun-browned hand, her tanned face screwed up in an exaggerated expression of disgust.
Starsin heard someone shouting behind him. He turned. A man with a staff and badge had crossed the strung line of flags. He was robed, face twisted in determination, and strode forward in an officious manner. "What's the problem, my man?" Starsin asked him.
"What was that woman doing? Is she creating a burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing. (etc).
Looking at this yesterday I had the feeling that it was rather awful, and even more clunky than some of the newbie openings I’ve been criticising of late. It has some history, in that I took the first draft of Chapter 1 to my local writers’ group, they delivered their verdict, and I revised the text.
I have two ideas on how to start fixing it – one is to extend the present opener with a kind of meta-opening, where Starsin thinks that arriving with his companions at the city is a bit like the opening of a story, and reflects on what happened to them in the previous chapters, and if they’re less likely to be murdered within the walls.
The other idea is to junk the opening scene and start with the second scene which is flagged ¾ of the way through the text below.
*************************************************
Calomel II - City Chapter 1
Starsin, the lead rider, scowled at the dark man beside him, then turned in his saddle to call out to the red-haired woman behind. "What's going on here? That line of people?"
"I can't really see, Star. I presume they're checking the people entering the city."
"Checking? I don't like this." As a male, and the highest-ranked member of the party, Starsin supposed that he should take responsibility for getting them into the city unchallenged. Ahead of him a line of people and carts waited to get through the brick arch on the far side of the moat bridge. The city wall appeared to be of solid stone, at least forty feet high, and outside it flowed a wide moat, or canal. The road crossed the moat by a permanent bridge of wood. Twin arches spanned the road between squat stone towers; part of Chazu's outer defensive wall. There were three women in Starsin’s party. All three women wore loose jackets and trews that hid their figures. Of the the first two one was fair the other dark; the third following behind had short reddish hair. The animals they rode had six legs.
The woman with short red hair kneed her animal to close up with him. "Shut up, Star. It's just routine. You think they're personally looking for you?"
Falcon, also known as Starsin, bore Lannaira's well-aimed sarcasm. Ahead, voices shouted, urging the travellers forward. Carts creaked into motion. Some way inside the city, three slim towers with shafts of a startling turquoise blue soared into the sky. A large object, a kind of kite, waved above the top of each.
The hooves of their six-legged sho'ats drummed on the planks of the bridge. Starsin passed a remark on the scale of the defences, but black-haired Rurnik beside him did not reply. The great timber gates stood open, and to judge by the grit and rubbish piled against them they were closed but rarely. The arch vault was in shadow. Two militiamen poked at the contents of carts and flipped open packs, accompanied by a saffron-robed religious official who held a disc bound with metal. Starsin eyed it with unease. They were clearly checking for any objects that emitted dangerous rays, and he hoped none of his party had picked up anything that would make the disc glow.
Lannaira, a tall, thin woman, urged her sho'at mount forwards. She touched his arm and pointed to herself, indicating that she would do the talking. The couple ahead of them were saying something about a chariot race.
A militiaman's mailed arm barred their way. "What's your business here?"
"We've come to watch the chariot races."
The militiaman grunted. "Where you from?"
"The drylands."
"Alright, move it." He waved them on.
Starsin looked up. Over his head was a drop-gate suspended high above the roadway, its timbers grey and rotted with age. On the inner side of the gate passage was a guardroom, from which soldiers in the brightly coloured Calomel uniform, of glass, silk braid and cane strips, watched the travellers as they passed.
"What was that holdup about?" said Shell, the blonde woman.
"They're more attentive than usual," said Lannaira. "Maybe the Virnals are worried about unrest."
"Starsin looked worried," said Rurnik with a sneer.
Starsin ignored him, annoyed. It was true; as a fugitive he did not welcome scrutiny.
The dark-haired woman said nothing.
They rode on, into the sunlight and noise of a city street.
"How will we contact the Sharyns?" Starsin asked Lannaira. "Are we going now?"
Lannaira shook her head "We need to be careful."
Starsin had not expected to see open spaces within the city, where plots of vegetable crops adjoined low buildings, and where water glinted in ditches. Further off, there were ornately planted parks and gardens, and beyond lay shining domed roofs of palaces or temples.
Lannaira's attention was caught by a column of smoke drifting across an open plot, and she urged her sho'at towards it. The others were obliged to follow. At a line of flags on cord which barred their way, she stopped, dismounted and ducked under it. Starsin felt a sharp, unhealthy odour tickle his nose.
"What, it's one of those things? And inside the city?"
*****************************
(The text runs straight on here, but the following is filed as a different scene (scene 00001) the opening scene above being scene 00002. (trivial but possibly revealing detail) I’m wondering if this is a better or more hooky place to start the story.)***********************
The depression was three feet across, crusted and black, and in the middle hot cinders glowed and smoked. Down a crack yellow heat sparkled. There was a mixed smell of burnt organics and hot mineral. Lannaira fumbled in her jacket and pulled out a crumpled paper. She ran her finger down the text, then, pointing at the hole, began to read from the paper. The words made no sense to her companions.
Starsin tried to guess her motives. Saying a prayer? Quoting some ancient poem? No, she must be trying to discover something about the burning-pit. Their three companions still looked bemused. Ussha, the deaf-mute girl, was waving away the fumes with one sun-browned hand, her tanned face screwed up in an exaggerated expression of disgust.
Starsin heard someone shouting behind him. He turned. A man with a staff and badge had crossed the strung line of flags. He was robed, face twisted in determination, and strode forward in an officious manner. "What's the problem, my man?" Starsin asked him.
"What was that woman doing? Is she creating a burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing. (etc).
