tinkerdan
∞<Q-Satis
I've no problem with someone spilling words onto a page and asking for help; but in the same token that person should realize the danger.
If you haven't gone over the work several times to at least take out simple grammatical problems (spelling; punctuation; other sentence structure; pacing) that is going to sidetrack everyone from the real questions you want answered. More particularly if you are asking if the Idea is good and if the presentation works for the reader. I don't mind expending time to get around these, but some people might. The more you can work the piece prior to posting it; the better.
That much said:
I don't so much have an issue of starting the story and then going into a framed story for back-story; but considering your story here is about one fifth of everything and the back-story is the 4 fifths, there are other options.
One way I have seen is that if the back-story contains some compelling narrative then you can start right into it with that; but I don't see that here.
Another way would be to stay in the story and bring the back-story into the present story. This requires more work, but it is what I did with my first novel and though a lack of numbers in reviews don't particularly give me great authority on the subject--it worked for me.
What you need to do is find events in the main story that might somehow parallel the back-story so that you can make use of the close nature of the viewpoint and have the character's thoughts and feelings bring the back-story into the present. Finding similar points from which to segue in and out of the past through character thoughts help create an illusion of organic nature to the narrative.
For instance, using some of your thoughts and ideas here is how I'd start this.
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Wild wind whistled, buffeting each harrowing step I made through blasting blizzard cold that seeped through every layer, penetrating bones and revisiting old aches of fractures, cuts, breaks and abrasions; curling breath in cloudy puffs around clotting snotty passages now frozen tight to hairs of mustache and beard and all conspiring to remind me of the value of kept secrets. In the department of magical secrets; no two cube monkeys, in a city of monkeys with manilla folders of information meant to be entered and then forgotten, were allowed to see the same secrets. Let alone share them. There were consequences for transgressing and I actively avoided those.
In the endless chill, searching for a rise that might divert and abate the winds, I appreciated the simple existence of the mundane daily ritual of work for taskmasters we call They for whose eyes the secrets are meant. Trusted coddled. Riding the same rusty mountain bike back and forth for over ten years. Allowing someone else to determine what is meant for me and what is not. Until that day when I arrived at work and the impossible wild-eyed ex-fellow worker, Peter Quince ;a man of consequence; or at least one who should have been suffering those consequence somewhere far away, stood ragged and worn: blocking my path.
The wind had let up though the penetrating cold remained as I stood before a snowy rise with in-congruent icicles reaching downward planting dainty looking feet into the white plane that ran under my boot. There could be shelter in the darkness that peeked around the thin taper. Relief from all of nature and possibly even warmth that might create this mighty flow of ice. While bending to peer through the ice and voids, I perceived a faint bluish glow penetrating outward. It screamed of possible warmth beneath and behind, though the ice itself stood like bars that prevented access where even those slight legs were tough as iron. Blocking me.
I couldn't get past Peter that morning; both because he wouldn't allow it and I was shocked to see him.
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I don't know your story or your characters well enough to do them justice; but that's the general idea. The first chapter of my first novel might be a bit over done with something of this nature; but I think it's a workable solution to introducing the back-story that got the character to the spot he's presently at. And as with my novel it doesn't appear there is anything immediately deadly and dramatic happening that can't be interrupted by some musing. Sure the character might freeze to death; but that might take some time.
If you haven't gone over the work several times to at least take out simple grammatical problems (spelling; punctuation; other sentence structure; pacing) that is going to sidetrack everyone from the real questions you want answered. More particularly if you are asking if the Idea is good and if the presentation works for the reader. I don't mind expending time to get around these, but some people might. The more you can work the piece prior to posting it; the better.
That much said:
I don't so much have an issue of starting the story and then going into a framed story for back-story; but considering your story here is about one fifth of everything and the back-story is the 4 fifths, there are other options.
One way I have seen is that if the back-story contains some compelling narrative then you can start right into it with that; but I don't see that here.
Another way would be to stay in the story and bring the back-story into the present story. This requires more work, but it is what I did with my first novel and though a lack of numbers in reviews don't particularly give me great authority on the subject--it worked for me.
What you need to do is find events in the main story that might somehow parallel the back-story so that you can make use of the close nature of the viewpoint and have the character's thoughts and feelings bring the back-story into the present. Finding similar points from which to segue in and out of the past through character thoughts help create an illusion of organic nature to the narrative.
For instance, using some of your thoughts and ideas here is how I'd start this.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Wild wind whistled, buffeting each harrowing step I made through blasting blizzard cold that seeped through every layer, penetrating bones and revisiting old aches of fractures, cuts, breaks and abrasions; curling breath in cloudy puffs around clotting snotty passages now frozen tight to hairs of mustache and beard and all conspiring to remind me of the value of kept secrets. In the department of magical secrets; no two cube monkeys, in a city of monkeys with manilla folders of information meant to be entered and then forgotten, were allowed to see the same secrets. Let alone share them. There were consequences for transgressing and I actively avoided those.
In the endless chill, searching for a rise that might divert and abate the winds, I appreciated the simple existence of the mundane daily ritual of work for taskmasters we call They for whose eyes the secrets are meant. Trusted coddled. Riding the same rusty mountain bike back and forth for over ten years. Allowing someone else to determine what is meant for me and what is not. Until that day when I arrived at work and the impossible wild-eyed ex-fellow worker, Peter Quince ;a man of consequence; or at least one who should have been suffering those consequence somewhere far away, stood ragged and worn: blocking my path.
The wind had let up though the penetrating cold remained as I stood before a snowy rise with in-congruent icicles reaching downward planting dainty looking feet into the white plane that ran under my boot. There could be shelter in the darkness that peeked around the thin taper. Relief from all of nature and possibly even warmth that might create this mighty flow of ice. While bending to peer through the ice and voids, I perceived a faint bluish glow penetrating outward. It screamed of possible warmth beneath and behind, though the ice itself stood like bars that prevented access where even those slight legs were tough as iron. Blocking me.
I couldn't get past Peter that morning; both because he wouldn't allow it and I was shocked to see him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know your story or your characters well enough to do them justice; but that's the general idea. The first chapter of my first novel might be a bit over done with something of this nature; but I think it's a workable solution to introducing the back-story that got the character to the spot he's presently at. And as with my novel it doesn't appear there is anything immediately deadly and dramatic happening that can't be interrupted by some musing. Sure the character might freeze to death; but that might take some time.
