Darkened Fragments, My First Chapter: 3209 words

[Hex]

No, you're right. I have no idea why I picked up the idea that the characters were young -- though I did. It may be that I assumed it was dystopian YA (sorry). It may be I got it from WJ's posts afterwards.

 

[WriterJosh]

As I said before, I think part of the problem -- if indeed it is a problem, which is another matter, of course -- is the lack of complexity of thought/emotion. It may be that if that is addressed and the other issues fixed, the possible YA feel may disappear.

It's one of the things I'll be addressing. Thanks for putting a finger on it.

(NB I don't know about anyone else, but I'd certainly be interested in seeing a snippet** from one of those other characters.)

I'd love to do it, and will, but this board is for others, too, so I'm gonna wait a bit and read some other critique threads and offer what little input I've got there. In a couple of days I'll put up another segment.

 

[JoanDrake]

I agree with most of the other critiques. However, it does paint a clear word picture and we know exactly what is going on

I wouldn't be upset if people say it seems YA. YA is generally very clear and I think people are picking up on that.

The business about spirits in the artifacts at the end is at least the hint of a hook, and that would be enough to keep me reading; as the idea of digging up things in an old battlefield is interesting in itself.

 

[WriterJosh]

Darkened Fragments REVISED!

Re-posting

 

[The Judge]

Josh, just a quickie as I'm not meant to be here. The software has ripped out the formatting, so your font is far too small to read comfortably. Can you edit and enlarge it, please -- I should hate anyone to be put off reading it. (NB "Whisps" rather threw me, as over here it's "wisps" without the "h" but on checking I see it's a variant spelling. Strange folk in Canada, evidently...)

 

[WriterJosh]

Josh, just a quickie as I'm not meant to be here. The software has ripped out the formatting, so your font is far too small to read comfortably. Can you edit and enlarge it, please -- I should hate anyone to be put off reading it. (NB "Whisps" rather threw me, as over here it's "wisps" without the "h" but on checking I see it's a variant spelling. Strange folk in Canada, evidently...)

I tried but the command wasn't there. I will need to delete and repost I think.

 

[WriterJosh]

A thin, wailing cry went up as Becca’s shovel dug into the earth. Whisps of what looked like cloud rose into the air, the cries becoming sharper as the spirits took shape in the vapor. Faces appeared in the clouds and frowned at Becca.


“Sorry,” she said. One of the spirits stuck out a tongue-like shape.


“You’re that attached to this shithole of a place?” The spirit began to fade, the others following it. “You’ll find another home. I’m sure I’ll need whatever this is more than you do.” There had been at least four spirits in the object she was digging out. It must be a good deal larger than the cup she had unearthed yesterday.


“Goodbye, spirits,” said Pat. He was standing at the small hand-wagon, waving at the fading forms.


“Don’t talk to them,” she said.


“You were,” Pat replied. Becca sighed and turned back to her digging. The lifeless rock and earth made no further complaint. The spirits were gone. Pat would never understand that not all spirits were harmless and kept forgetting that he should let Becca do the talking if they encountered any.


“That’s a helmet,” said Pat. Becca looked down at the object she was digging around. Her brother was right.


“Indeed,” she said. “Looks like more leftovers from the Ragnarok. Come on over here and help me dig.”


Her brother picked up his shovel from the wagon bed and started slowly digging. One of his scoops equaled two or three of hers. Pat was nineteen, strong as an ox and nearly as big. But unfortunately, also nearly as intelligent.


Enough earth was clear now that Becca could work it out with her hands. She knelt and pulled in back-and-forth motions, dislodging it further.


“Come on, you ******* piece of junk.”


“It’s got a gryphon on it,” said Pat. “Maybe it belonged to Ronan!”


“I don’t think so,” said Becca. “Ronan didn’t die here.”


“Ronan’s not dead,” said Pat.


Becca shook her head. Pat believed the old stories that Da used to tell them to the letter. He was certain one day Ronan Gryphonhook would return. The old Champion had died in the battle of Chaggar, or Thargos, depending on which tale you heard.


The helmet came free, and Becca handed it to Pat to put in the wagon. “That’s worth a silver mark,” she said.


“Why?” asked Pat. “The last helmet we found only got us twenty shillings.”


“This one’s almost whole,” she said. “There’s some rust, and a cheek guard’s missing, but there’s still enough good metal there for a smith to use. It’s too bad the rubies are missing.”


“Rubies?” Pat peered at the helmet again.


“The gryphon’s eyes,” she said. “They’re hollow. They used to have rubies in them. We’d be truly rich if they were still there. But as it is, we might even be able to afford some sausages.”


“Sausage!” shouted Pat.


“Quiet!” she said. “Look, I know there aren’t any people around but there could be more spirits anywhere, and if one of them decides to have a little fun with us, we’re ******.”


“We’ve got obsidian.”


“Not enough, if it’s a big enough spirit,” she said. “And our obsidian won’t do any good against a troll, or a grimworm.”


Pat began to look around nervously. “Think they’re out yet?”


Becca shook her head and wiped sweat from her brow. It was always hot as blazes on the heath, even if the light of the sun barely pierced the clouds.


“Think there’s any more spirits in there?” asked Pat, looking at the helmet.


“Well, if there is, they better speak up soon,” said Becca. “Otherwise, it’s going to market.”


The light was dimming, but the two of them kept on, Pat pulling the wagon and Becca clunking her shovel in the rocky ground every few steps, listening for the tell-tale hollow thunk noise that indicated there was more than shale packed beneath it. She kept one ear open for other noises, for rumblings in the ground other than those the wagon’s wheels made. There weren’t any, at least for now.


In every direction she looked, the grey, lifeless heath greeted her, broken here and there by the odd rise of a large rock or a twisted, ugly shrub that somehow managed to grow here despite the lack of any viable soil. She and Pat used to call the trees “ugly old men” when they were smaller, and sometimes she still thought that’s what they looked like. Hideous, stunted things that twisted in odd, unnatural ways. Outside of the few wet patches of land on the fringes of the Ragged Lands, they were the only vegetation she knew.


The heat was baking through the linen of her shift and causing it to stick to her baked brown skin. Becca itched, yet resisted scratching. If she did, Pat might start, and once he started, he would keep going until he’d drawn blood. Then he would cry. She glanced over at her brother as he happily pulled the wagon along, staring ahead with a dreamy look on his face. Why could you not be normal, and be able to go seek your own fortune? She felt a guilty twinge at the thought. She loved her big brother. She had to. Uncle Gerald didn’t love either of them, and someone had to love poor old Pat.


“Two young ones and a wagon,” said a quiet voice. “Wither they a’come, but to seek fortune, m’I right?”


Becca signaled Pat to stop and glanced around quickly. She didn’t see a person, but a dark stain hovered above the barren ground a few steps ahead. She quickly shoved a hand into her sack and grabbed her lump of obsidian. Beside her, Pat did the same.


“I mean ye no harm,” said the spirit.


“Better safe than sorry,” said Becca. “No offense.”


“Where might ye be goin’?” asked the spirit.


“Nowhere important,” said Becca. She knew better than to give the spirit any real answers.


“I don’t see many out on the plain o’late,” said the spirit. It had started hovering along beside them, keeping a few feet away on Becca’s right. “Ye gatherin’ fortune, aye. Plunder. M’I right?”


“It’s what we do,” said Becca. “We’re out here every day. At least I am.”


“Aye, you be Brown Becca,” said the spirit. “I seen ye afore. But narry the big lad, there.”


“I’m Pat,” said Pat. He smiled his gormless smile at the spirit.


“f*ck, Pat, shut up,” hissed Becca. “Remember, I do the talking!”


“Ye cull’d yeself a new lover, aye, young Becca?” asked the spirit. “One new to these lands.”


“No,” said Becca. She glowered at the spirit. “That’s my brother.” Her lover, the spirit had assumed. Please.


“He not from here?”


“He’s been raised here, same as me,” said Becca. “How do you know me?”


“Ye left me without a home, did young Becca, aye,” said the spirit. “I be Stockpile, so I be. Poor old Stockpile narry harmed no one, but ye left me a gypsy, so ye did.”


Becca grimaced at the stain. It had now started to take on the amorphous shape of a man, no more than four feet tall, and all black. This spirit had little power. It was safe to talk further.


“The cup,” she said. “That was it, wasn’t it?”


“Aye, oh, aye,” said Stockpile. “Ye took it fer plunder, and left poor old Stockpile alone. Ye could have offered t’take me with ye. I here, all alone now.”


“Fine,” said Becca. “Come with us, then. We’ll be headed home in less than an hour.”


“Aye, but nay, thank’ee,” said Stockpile. “The heath be my home these many thou’n’s o’ years. But I thank’ee fer the generous offer.”


“Don’t mention it,” said Becca. She meant it.


THUNK. Her shovel had struck something dense.


“Paydirt,” she said to Pat. He grinned excitedly and went to grab his shovel. It took him a minute to realize that he had left it at their last dig site.


“Aww,” he whined.


“Go on back and get it. I’ll start.” Hopefully she would have it finished before he made it back here.


“I’ll be back in five minutes,” he said. The cheer had already returned to his voice. It was always five minutes. It was the only increment of time Pat knew.


Becca started scraping away surface shale while the spirit watched her.


“Ye out here every day, but nay he,” said Stockpile. “He bigger, but he act smaller.”


“He’s just not…he doesn’t understand life out here,” said Becca. “My uncle keeps him at home, usually. He helps out around our hut.”


“He younger than he look,” said the spirit.


“No, he’s grown,” said Becca. “He just turned nineteen.”


“But he defer to ye,” said Stockpile. Becca sighed again. She got this any time someone new met Pat. Even spirits, apparently.


“He’s soft,” she explained. “In the head. He got hurt as a child. Before I was born.”

 

[tinkerdan]

Hi WriterJosh,

I definitely liked the first one better. They both seem YA except the second is adult by expletives. I don't think that's the way you need to go. This piece is heavy on dialogue which is not bad and is probably a good way to economize on the length.

What it seems to need is more narrative that gets into Becca's head or for that matter even Pats there is where you can define the age level. I would only go for one of those as your POV. Probably Becca.

Their dialogue does tell us a little bit about them and the second version tells us too much and I don't like them as well. But that's just me.

I think if you get into the characters head you might even be able to shorten the dialogue. It seems like there might be a fear of telling in the narrative which has cause telling through dialogue. If we just get a little feeling from Becca along with some of the bits of history it will balance things out.

That's just a suggestion.

You have something here though in that the two ways you've told this story are like diametric poles so there seems to be a lot of rang already to your talent. Let's mix it up with some more narrative and get even more range.

 

[Brian G Turner]

A thin, wailing cry went up as Becca’s shovel dug into the earth.

Decent opener.

“Sorry,” she said. One of the spirits stuck out a tongue-like shape.

This immediately puts me in mind of a children's book. You tell us later that this is a battlefield, therefore implies these are the spirits of dead, hardened, soldiers. Sticking out a tongue does not fit with that.

Also, it doesn't sound like she's making any real attempt to placate the spirits, and she wouldn't say "sorry" if this was hard routine work that puts food in their mouths, and the spirits are a nuisance than threat IMO.

“You’re that attached to this shithole of a place?”

Swearing does not make a story adult over YA. YA is about young people struggling with the issues of growing up - love, responsibility, friendship, etc. YA books can be very dark indeed.

The spirit began to fade, the others following it. “You’ll find another home. I’m sure I’ll need whatever this is more than you do.” There had been at least four spirits in the object she was digging out. It must be a good deal larger than the cup she had unearthed yesterday.

Again, she's no need to talk here. And why are there four spirits in one object? Again, the presumption would be that these are dead soldiers, so why four in an object? What makes that object so important to the spirits? Obviously, these spirits could be something completely unrelated to the battlefield - a general haunted place of some kind - but you never suggest this, and the battlefield remains the context.

“Goodbye, spirits,” said Pat. He was standing at the small hand-wagon, waving at the fading forms.


“Don’t talk to them,” she said.


“You were,” Pat replied. Becca sighed and turned back to her digging. The lifeless rock and earth made no further complaint. The spirits were gone. Pat would never understand that not all spirits were harmless and kept forgetting that he should let Becca do the talking if they encountered any.

Again, if this is routine work, IMO this dialogue is all extraneous.

“That’s a helmet,” said Pat. Becca looked down at the object she was digging around. Her brother was right.


“Indeed,” she said. “Looks like more leftovers from the Ragnarok. Come on over here and help me dig.”

...

Becca shook her head. Pat believed the old stories that Da used to tell them to the letter. He was certain one day Ronan Gryphonhook would return. The old Champion had died in the battle of Chaggar, or Thargos, depending on which tale you heard.

Becca and Pat (modern sounding rather than period names - again, a YA flag to me) - both appear completely unexcited by the fact they are digging up loot from dead heroes. Be aware you are communicating this lack of excitement to the reader. Also, old champions with clear stories told are unlikely - IMO - to have their stories so confused as to which battles they fought in - certainly if we're talking about people in a small geographical area.

The helmet came free, and Becca handed it to Pat to put in the wagon. “That’s worth a silver mark,” she said.


“Why?” asked Pat. “The last helmet we found only got us twenty shillings.”


“This one’s almost whole,” she said. “There’s some rust, and a cheek guard’s missing, but there’s still enough good metal there for a smith to use. It’s too bad the rubies are missing.”

"Rubies?” Pat peered at the helmet again.

“The gryphon’s eyes,” she said. “They’re hollow. They used to have rubies in them. We’d be truly rich if they were still there. But as it is, we might even be able to afford some sausages.”

This is being explained to the reader, not the characters. Better as internal thought IMO. Makes it shorter to focus on pace. At present you are spending a lot of time focused on an object that the characters already find of very limited interest.

“Sausage!” shouted Pat.

Plural would work better as it's a direct repetition of what Becca says.

“Quiet!” she said. “Look, I know there aren’t any people around but there could be more spirits anywhere, and if one of them decides to have a little fun with us, we’re ******.”

“We’ve got obsidian.”

You're explaining to the reader here that obsidian is important. IMO the sudden suggestion that spirits can be dangerous is very inconsistent with the idea of a spirit sticking its tongue out. IF spirits are dangerous, you should set up that tension from the start.

“Think there’s any more spirits in there?” asked Pat, looking at the helmet.


“Well, if there is, they better speak up soon,” said Becca. “Otherwise, it’s going to market.”

Again, something to cut, or Becca to think about. You're using far too much dialogue IMO to explain to a reader, and it's stopping us from getting into Becca's head - who I presume is the POV character here, but is showing preciously little so far from her POV - and certainly little in terms of emotional reactions. There remains a lack of tension that you have a lot of potential to ramp up.

The light was dimming, but the two of them kept on, Pat pulling the wagon and Becca clunking her shovel in the rocky ground every few steps, listening for the tell-tale hollow thunk noise that indicated there was more than shale packed beneath it. She kept one ear open for other noises, for rumblings in the ground other than those the wagon’s wheels made. There weren’t any, at least for now.


In every direction she looked, the grey, lifeless heath greeted her, broken here and there by the odd rise of a large rock or a twisted, ugly shrub that somehow managed to grow here despite the lack of any viable soil. She and Pat used to call the trees “ugly old men” when they were smaller, and sometimes she still thought that’s what they looked like. Hideous, stunted things that twisted in odd, unnatural ways. Outside of the few wet patches of land on the fringes of the Ragged Lands, they were the only vegetation she knew.


The heat was baking through the linen of her shift and causing it to stick to her baked brown skin. Becca itched, yet resisted scratching. If she did, Pat might start, and once he started, he would keep going until he’d drawn blood. Then he would cry. She glanced over at her brother as he happily pulled the wagon along, staring ahead with a dreamy look on his face. Why could you not be normal, and be able to go seek your own fortune? She felt a guilty twinge at the thought. She loved her big brother. She had to. Uncle Gerald didn’t love either of them, and someone had to love poor old Pat.

This is better - we're getting into her head. Could probably tighten it up a little to focus on what's more important, but otherwise we're finally getting into Becca's character experience - the purpose of a novel.

“Better safe than sorry,” said Becca. “No offense.”

YA books tend to have very modern-sounding dialogue, even in period settings. And this reads as a very modern turn of speech.

“Where might ye be goin’?” asked the spirit.

This section with the spirit has the potential to be interesting, but Becca appears bored by the encounter. Again, you are transmitting this to the reader. We also seem at odds again with the previous spirits, so I presume this is an entirely different type?

“Don’t mention it,” said Becca. She meant it.


THUNK. Her shovel had struck something dense.

Huh? I thought they were simply walking along? I didn't realise she was digging as they went.

“Paydirt,”

Again, a modernism.

“Aww,” he whined.

He forgot it? She forgot to check. And now there follows a long ramble about her background, which she will cheerfully provide to a complete stranger (even if a spirit) for no apparent good reason. Really, what you are doing is what I mentioned before - you are trying to explain things via dialogue, which is a basic mistake. Some detail, yes, but the rest can be easily internalised.

As before, the same criticisms apply - there's a lack of tension and emotional involvement in this piece. It's gets somewhere faster, which is a definite improvement, but as yet we have no reason to care about either the place we've reached, or the journey there.

At times there is promise - the section where you internalised Becca's travel is on the right track IMO - but you are still doing far too much telling through dialogue.

Also, I know you find the YA label grating - I'm not sure why, as it's a bigger market than fantasy - but look at what you've posted and ask yourself in what why this piece is going to appeal more specifically to adults over a YA audience?

Overall, I think this piece looks rushed - you have made some improvements to pace, but it's still nowhere near enough if I'm brutally honest, and it's still missing the core fundamentals you absolutely need to put into a story to make it great.

Of course, this is all just my personal opinion, and I am being a harsh critic here - namely because I think you need it, can take it, and can write a stronger story for it.

Before you attempt to rewrite this scene again, read "Save the Cat". It'll open up a world that you are so far missing.

Of course - and here's the reposte to everything I say - I think a lot of published fiction also contains a lot of serious weaknesses. I may be being too harsh, and you may be fine to continue as is. However, I think you would seriously benefit from reading a few good books about writing tools, hence my recommendation above.

 

[Brian G Turner]

Btw, sincere apologies if my comments seem a bit harsh - I can level similar criticisms at published books I've read recently. I'm a very critical reader. However, the danger is that I am overly critical in critiques. Just take what you think may be useful to you at the moment from the above. I really do recommend Save the Cat, though.

 

[martin321]

I liked the second version more than the first, as it is quicker to get going and has much less repetition. I'd probably carry on reading for a few pages to see what happens next. Something interesting, in the form of conflict or a problem, needs to happen soon in the story.

I've read published work with worse openings than this, so I think that "I, Brian" was a little overcritical. He is right that "Save the Cat" is a good book; it is mainly aimed at writing high concept movie scripts, but much of the advice it contains can be applied to novels.

There's nothing wrong with writing YA or YA/adult crossover books. In any case, ultimately YA is just a marketing label applied to books by publishers, so I wouldn't worry about that too much.

 

[ratsy]

I will agree with Brian on one point 100%. Adding curse words did nothing to change the style of the writing, and to be honest it felt out of place. I have nothing against swearing in books but I have a feeling you added them to displace the YA comments.

I have read a lot of books that one may think YA from the style right away but that is not necessarily a bad thing. And these books are not YA so you need to put that out of your head. If the story is story is strong and the themes are what you say they are then there will be no confusion when someone reads more than 2 pages

 

[WriterJosh]

Brian, I had quite a lot written out in reply, but I'm gonna summarize instead.

First of all, thank you again for the valuable feedback you're giving me. Believe me, I'm applying it to the work. I am hearing again that there's a lack of a sense of tension, and I'm taking too long to get to the point of the scene, which is the discovery of a golden gauntlet that grafts itself to Becca's arm and won't come off. This kick-starts Becca's plot, in fact. Maybe I'm just taking too long to set the scene and establish the mood.

Some of what you're saying is lacking is stuff I was attempting to build gradually. The sense of tension should probably be raised sooner, but getting into Becca's psyche and exploring her character does happen, I just didn't want to throw a bunch of internal stuff at the reader right off the bat. It bugs me when other authors do that; in chapter one little to nothing happens except a character working or riding through the woods or something like that, having a think while the author tells you a bunch of stuff about the character, world, etc. It almost seems like that's what you want, but the fact is that I intentionally held back on it. I do realize, however, that I probably should introduce a few details quicker. I don't like the feeling people are getting that it just isn't there, so it's up to me to do something about it.

On the other hand, some of the stuff you're mentioning is more inference from your side than implication on mine, such as that spirit=ghost. These spirits are not ghosts but Fay creatures, and this is made clear in later parts of the plot. In fact, Stockpile should make it clear. His name, the fact that he thinks of the heath as his home, etc. should at least go toward implying that he's not the ghost of a human. One aspect of my world is that spirits are everywhere, and almost any object can have one in it. Some houses even have a "house spirit" that's almost like a sentient pet. Becca's lack of reaction is not "boredom" but familiarity.

You may say that I failed to get that point across, but again, I'm going for the gradual reveal, and it doesn't bother me if someone assumes something and later has their assumption challenged. For example, when I read The Blade Itself, I assumed the Shanka were a tribe of mountain-dwelling humans, and that "Flathead" was a racial slur. Within a few pages, the description of the Shanka's actions showed me that they were Orc-like creatures. Was my early assumption by itself indicative of a problem in Abercrombie's writing? Similarly, when I read The Briar King I at first wondered what kind of stupid name Bornmen was to describe a people. It was later, through dialogue, that Keyes explains it.

I'm still working on this, though, and really, I think what I should probably do is make this chapter two, rather than chapter one, which may by itself solve some issues.

Now, on the subject of character names...naming characters in period world-building fantasy is a tricky thing. One can argue that it's the writer's world and the writer's rules, so it can't be "wrong" if he decides to do it. On the other hand, there's the tvtrope entry "Aerith and Bob", about two people from the same place, one of which has a fantastical name and the other doesn't. I've seen writers do that (a particularly horrible offender is Terry Goodkind) and even some really good writers fall prey to that, and it bothers me. For example, in ASOIAF (okay, I'm a huge ASOIAF fanboy), three brothers can be named Stannis, Robert and Renly. One of these things is not like the other...

I made the choice before I started that the dirt scrabblers would have ordinary person-you-might-pass-on-the-street names. Further, I decided that I would keep the "fantastical" names to a minimum, especially when dealing with human characters. Later I introduce human characters with names like Callister, Courtney, Simon, Weston, Dr. Pipes, Ed Calder, etc. Perhaps these names don't fit what you think of as "period fantasy" names, but then, this isn't strictly a period fantasy (there's an element of steampunk). It's part of my attempt to create something that at least in part goes against expectations. No, it's not 100% original, but then, nothing is. I just like playing with readers' expectations.

Finally, if I bristle at the YA label, it's because I did not set out to write a YA novel, and in fact, Becca is the youngest character in the book, and in almost every other plotline there is little that would attract a young audience. That said, I don't mind if there are elements that younger people could enjoy. Quite a few fantasy writers end up producing works meant for adults that children are also drawn to.

That said, the swearing was not added in an attempt to remove the YA feel. I decided early on that one of Becca's character traits is a desire to seem "hardened", having been raised in a very harsh environment. One way this manifests is a foul mouth. Becca's nowhere near as hard as she thinks she is, though, and that comes across as we get to know her. As I already mentioned, a character later calls her out on her constant F-bomb dropping. Again, I attempted to introduce this gradually, but as it's such a character-defining quality, I decided instead to introduce it early.

 

[WriterJosh]

I will agree with Brian on one point 100%. Adding curse words did nothing to change the style of the writing, and to be honest it felt out of place. I have nothing against swearing in books but I have a feeling you added them to displace the YA comments.

I addressed this in my last post.

I have read a lot of books that one may think YA from the style right away but that is not necessarily a bad thing. And these books are not YA so you need to put that out of your head. If the story is story is strong and the themes are what you say they are then there will be no confusion when someone reads more than 2 pages

This is true. I recently read a book called Gideon Smith & the Mechanical Girl. After the first few chapters I was starting to think this was a book my 12-year-old son might enjoy. Then the author introduces a character who has been locked in a house and forced to serve as a sex slave to a creepy old man, not to mention all of a sudden F-bombs are being dropped like crazy.

I'm just gonna have to get over the idea that this chapter comes off as YA and decide it's something I can live with.

 

[The Judge]

I thought this was better than the original, and more immediately interesting, but for me it was still flabby, and I'd tighten it considerably particularly in the dialogue. I should point out I'm not an Ernest Hemingway type of writer, far from it in fact, but I do believe that every single sentence, every single word, should contribute to the story. And very often it isn't what is said that is a problem, or even the way it's said, but where it's said. The lines about the rubies, for instance. Is that important? More to the point, is it important now? If it can safely be deleted from here without affecting plot or character, then I'd do it. On its own it's a nice world-building touch, but here, among a plethora of other stuff, it's slowing the pace to a crawl, so I'd take take it from here and add it back in a little later.

What you might find helpful is having a go at our Writing Challenges. There's still nearly 36 hours left for the 300 worder, and the 75 worder only started this morning. It's a great exercise in having to consider what is important and cutting the flab of a story. Obviously, you can't treat a novel as an extended 300 worder, and it's necessary to consider rhythm as well as word economy, but it might just help you to see where you can prune unnecessary words and lines, removing which will give you a tauter, more easily readable piece.

By the way, the YA feel wasn't as noticeable here, and if I'd come to this wholly unaware of the other, it might not have crossed my mind at all.

 

[WriterJosh]

I thought this was better than the original, and more immediately interesting, but for me it was still flabby, and I'd tighten it considerably particularly in the dialogue. I should point out I'm not an Ernest Hemingway type of writer, far from it in fact, but I do believe that every single sentence, every single word, should contribute to the story. And very often it isn't what is said that is a problem, or even the way it's said, but where it's said. The lines about the rubies, for instance. Is that important? More to the point, is it important now? If it can safely be deleted from here without affecting plot or character, then I'd do it. On its own it's a nice world-building touch, but here, among a plethora of other stuff, it's slowing the pace to a crawl, so I'd take take it from here and add it back in a little later.

What you might find helpful is having a go at our Writing Challenges. There's still nearly 36 hours left for the 300 worder, and the 75 worder only started this morning. It's a great exercise in having to consider what is important and cutting the flab of a story. Obviously, you can't treat a novel as an extended 300 worder, and it's necessary to consider rhythm as well as word economy, but it might just help you to see where you can prune unnecessary words and lines, removing which will give you a tauter, more easily readable piece.

By the way, the YA feel wasn't as noticeable here, and if I'd come to this wholly unaware of the other, it might not have crossed my mind at all.

Thank you, Judge. Yeah, I'm still working on trimming the fat. The rubies can go; they were in the first draft because I wanted to point out that the helmet wasn't complete but now that's an unnecessary statement, as it's now made clear Becca has found other helmets before.

I will be participating in challenges. I spent some time yesterday staring at that tree and trying to get an idea going, but my brain was fried thanks to a busy day at work.

Also, I took your suggestion to post a different section.