The Storyteller
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2014
- Messages
- 243
Hello everyone! As I mentioned in a different post, I am currently applying for a writing award, which basically gives me some money and lets me take three months off work to focus on a writing project, which would be fantastic. I don't know how much of a chance I stand, but I want to try for it all the same!
Part of what I need to send is a ten page excerpt of my writing project, so I thought I'd put up as much of it as I could for critiquing here first. The total excerpt is 3356 words, so I couldn't put it all up, but if anyone would be interested in reading over the whole chunk in a pm, I would greatly appreciate it! No pressure of course, I am very happy just to get feedback on this first bit.
It ends in the middle of a scene/conversation, so sorry about that. I tried to cut it off at the best place I could!
Also, I have received feedback before on dialogue tags and adverbs. Some of my favourite books use generous amounts of both, and I do feel that the writing style/tone I'm going for needs some of each. You can still mention it in your critique of course! I'm just letting people know that I did do it intentionally. Hopefully I used them effectively for the tone I'm trying to create, but please let me know what you think!
As always, thanks so much for any and all feedback.
Mulgrin’s walking stick had snapped in half, and Mulgrin couldn’t say he was sorry it was gone. He had found a nice long stick on the ground earlier that day and had claimed it, feeling that walking sticks were just the kind of thing heroes ought to carry with them. But to his dismay, it had been more of a hindrance than a help. It was awkward to carry, and was constantly catching on roots and rocks and overhanging branches. Holding the rough wood in his hand had given him two blisters and a sliver—which he had spent the better part of an hour trying to fish out with his round gnomish fingers—and now, when practicing defense with it, the ungrateful thing had broken right in half! Mulgrin had been in the middle of fighting off several vicious trees, which in his inventive mind had taken the forms of bandits, and with one sound thwok to the tree, the stick had snapped in two.
“Good riddance to it,” Mulgrin muttered, feeling rather out of sorts.
“Good riddance indeed!” a high voice retorted huffily. “Now, if you would stop that senseless banging about on innocent trees, perhaps I might be able to continue my midday rest, which, I might add, was rather pleasant before you came bashing about with that over-sized twig of yours!”
Mulgrin whirled around and was surprised to find that there was no one in sight. Indeed, all that stood behind him was the very tree he had just broken his walking stick against.
“Aha!” Muglrin cried in delight. A talking tree! What luck! That was just the sort of thing a hero ought to encounter early on in their Quest. No doubt this tree would reveal some crucial information; which direction to go perhaps, or the whereabouts of a wise old mystic. Or more importantly, where to find food.
He stood straighter and examined the tree, discreetly trying to identify its face. The last thing he wanted to do was address tree’s back or shoulder by mistake, less he anger it further. “Good sir, I do beg your pardon! I did not mean to hit you so!”
“You didn’t hit me, you foolish great lout! All your tree-whacking nearly shook me out of my perch!”
“Perch?” echoed Mulgrin, surprised. His eyes slid slowly up the trunk of the tree. There, directly above him, glared an angry pair of beady eyes.
“Why,” said Mulgrin, feeling cheated, “you’re not a talking tree at all!”
“I most certainly am not,” the voice said with an indignant snuffle. “Though if I were, I certainly wouldn’t talk to loud, tree-whacking gnomelings stomping through my forest. Now good day and good riddance!”
This was no doubt meant as a dismissal, and not a very subtle one at that. But Mulgrin simply stared up at the creature, his disappointment at its not being a talking tree quickly replaced with curiosity. “Well then,” he said, “what in the Wide World are you? Some sort of bird I suppose?”
This remark, though said with the most innocent of intentions, threw the creature into even greater fury.
“Bird!?” it demanded, voice squeaking with indignation. It flew down promptly, beady eyes bright with anger. “I am not a bird, you oversized gnome, any more than you are a faerie!”
Seeing it now, Mulgrin had to admit that it didn’t look much like a bird after all, though it did have a set of very peculiar wings. It was lizard-like in appearance, with emerald green on top and bright blue on its belly and about its eyes. A bit of ruby red ringed the tip of the long tail and crowned the green head. Surprisingly, the large wings were not at all dragon-like, but were feathered, save for a scaled ridge along each.
“For your information, I am a zimmik. Now be on your way and disturb me no more, tree-whacker!” The creature glared at him, green tail snapping back and forth.
Mulgrin considered the feisty little zimmik thoughtfully. Talking tree or not, meeting any kind of unusual creature was sure to bode well for his Quest. He quickly adopted his most contrite expression and best manners, such as he frequently used with Master Cobbin the countless times he arrived late for lessons or was caught daydreaming through them.
“My good sir!” he exclaimed. “I apologize most sincerely! I assure you, I meant no offense, nor to disturb you from your rest, and I deeply regret it if I have done either. I beg you, forgive me, clumsy clod that I am.”
“Clumsy clod you are,” the creature agreed, “and I beg you leave me be. I have no need for your ‘good sirring’ nor your sorrying. Go on then, and bother someone else with your regret.”
“Won’t you at least tell me your name? And perhaps where I am and if there is a village nearby?” Mulgrin asked with a hint of desperation. This was not the way things were supposed to go on a Quest… The zimmik clearly wanted nothing to do with him! Surely this little lizard was meant to aid him in some way?
“My name is Proto-Ganzit,” the zimmik replied with a little sniff, “though I can’t imagine it will do you any good. You are in the Wilderwoods, and there are no villages for miles.”
“No villages! But surely someone must live nearby…”
The zimmik snorted. “Not likely. What did you expect this far from the road?”
Mulgrin’s heart sank all the way down into his empty stomach, where there was a great deal of grumbling and rumbling. His dismay at Proto-Ganzit’s abrupt dismissal was momentarily forgotten, driven out by the horror of no nearby villages.
Mulgrin had never gone so long without a proper meal in his life; three days had now passed since he ate the last of his food, and the few nuts, roots, and edible plants he had found were far from adequate. He had been certain that his suffering would soon be over, and some form of banquet would appear to reward him for his trials. After all, he had endured his suffering nobly, hadn’t he? Didn’t that mean something good had to happen? But without any villages, where in the Wide World was he to find food?
Mulgrin groaned, his hunger pains back in full force, summoned by the thought of food. He clutched his gut and swayed slightly, feeling suddenly lightheaded.
Mulgrin wondered in despair what he ought to do. Heroes didn’t starve. They might die in glorious battle, or sacrifice themselves for the greater good, but they simply did not die of starvation alone and lost in some forest! Mulgrin really wasn’t that keen on dying for any reason, but starving seemed like such an awful way to go...
Moaning piteously, Mulgrin plopped down on the forest floor and wept. How much longer would he have to endure his suffering? Surely he wasn’t really going to starve out here…
“What are you moaning and wailing about?” Proto-Ganzit sighed, peering down with weary impatience at Mulgrin.
Mulgrin forced his tears to stop, trying to calm himself down. He was being irrational. Of course he wouldn’t starve; it simply didn’t happen that way. He would survive, one way or another. He sniffed and wiped away his tears.
“I’ve not had a bite to eat in days, nor have I come across food of any kind,” Mulgrin lamented, sighing deeply as though hunger was one of many terrible burdens he was encumbered to bear for the greater good.
“You ought to have brought more food with you if you planned on traipsing aimlessly about in such a big forest,” Proto-Ganzit remarked, wrapping his tail neatly around his front feet. “I suppose the real question is what are you doing wandering through the Wilderwoods? There are roads you know, and plenty of travellers you might have joined. It’s no wonder you’re lost and starving, venturing right into the forest without a trail or map of any kind!”
“I’m on a Quest,” Mulgrin said, raising his chin proudly.
“What are you, some kind of wizard?” Proto-Ganzit snorted.
“Yes!” Mulgrin exclaimed excitedly. “I’m an apprentice, and I am on my Quest, to earn renown and honour and become a hero! If I succeed, I will earn my passage into Wizard-Dumm.”
Part of what I need to send is a ten page excerpt of my writing project, so I thought I'd put up as much of it as I could for critiquing here first. The total excerpt is 3356 words, so I couldn't put it all up, but if anyone would be interested in reading over the whole chunk in a pm, I would greatly appreciate it! No pressure of course, I am very happy just to get feedback on this first bit.
It ends in the middle of a scene/conversation, so sorry about that. I tried to cut it off at the best place I could!
Also, I have received feedback before on dialogue tags and adverbs. Some of my favourite books use generous amounts of both, and I do feel that the writing style/tone I'm going for needs some of each. You can still mention it in your critique of course! I'm just letting people know that I did do it intentionally. Hopefully I used them effectively for the tone I'm trying to create, but please let me know what you think!
As always, thanks so much for any and all feedback.
Mulgrin’s walking stick had snapped in half, and Mulgrin couldn’t say he was sorry it was gone. He had found a nice long stick on the ground earlier that day and had claimed it, feeling that walking sticks were just the kind of thing heroes ought to carry with them. But to his dismay, it had been more of a hindrance than a help. It was awkward to carry, and was constantly catching on roots and rocks and overhanging branches. Holding the rough wood in his hand had given him two blisters and a sliver—which he had spent the better part of an hour trying to fish out with his round gnomish fingers—and now, when practicing defense with it, the ungrateful thing had broken right in half! Mulgrin had been in the middle of fighting off several vicious trees, which in his inventive mind had taken the forms of bandits, and with one sound thwok to the tree, the stick had snapped in two.
“Good riddance to it,” Mulgrin muttered, feeling rather out of sorts.
“Good riddance indeed!” a high voice retorted huffily. “Now, if you would stop that senseless banging about on innocent trees, perhaps I might be able to continue my midday rest, which, I might add, was rather pleasant before you came bashing about with that over-sized twig of yours!”
Mulgrin whirled around and was surprised to find that there was no one in sight. Indeed, all that stood behind him was the very tree he had just broken his walking stick against.
“Aha!” Muglrin cried in delight. A talking tree! What luck! That was just the sort of thing a hero ought to encounter early on in their Quest. No doubt this tree would reveal some crucial information; which direction to go perhaps, or the whereabouts of a wise old mystic. Or more importantly, where to find food.
He stood straighter and examined the tree, discreetly trying to identify its face. The last thing he wanted to do was address tree’s back or shoulder by mistake, less he anger it further. “Good sir, I do beg your pardon! I did not mean to hit you so!”
“You didn’t hit me, you foolish great lout! All your tree-whacking nearly shook me out of my perch!”
“Perch?” echoed Mulgrin, surprised. His eyes slid slowly up the trunk of the tree. There, directly above him, glared an angry pair of beady eyes.
“Why,” said Mulgrin, feeling cheated, “you’re not a talking tree at all!”
“I most certainly am not,” the voice said with an indignant snuffle. “Though if I were, I certainly wouldn’t talk to loud, tree-whacking gnomelings stomping through my forest. Now good day and good riddance!”
This was no doubt meant as a dismissal, and not a very subtle one at that. But Mulgrin simply stared up at the creature, his disappointment at its not being a talking tree quickly replaced with curiosity. “Well then,” he said, “what in the Wide World are you? Some sort of bird I suppose?”
This remark, though said with the most innocent of intentions, threw the creature into even greater fury.
“Bird!?” it demanded, voice squeaking with indignation. It flew down promptly, beady eyes bright with anger. “I am not a bird, you oversized gnome, any more than you are a faerie!”
Seeing it now, Mulgrin had to admit that it didn’t look much like a bird after all, though it did have a set of very peculiar wings. It was lizard-like in appearance, with emerald green on top and bright blue on its belly and about its eyes. A bit of ruby red ringed the tip of the long tail and crowned the green head. Surprisingly, the large wings were not at all dragon-like, but were feathered, save for a scaled ridge along each.
“For your information, I am a zimmik. Now be on your way and disturb me no more, tree-whacker!” The creature glared at him, green tail snapping back and forth.
Mulgrin considered the feisty little zimmik thoughtfully. Talking tree or not, meeting any kind of unusual creature was sure to bode well for his Quest. He quickly adopted his most contrite expression and best manners, such as he frequently used with Master Cobbin the countless times he arrived late for lessons or was caught daydreaming through them.
“My good sir!” he exclaimed. “I apologize most sincerely! I assure you, I meant no offense, nor to disturb you from your rest, and I deeply regret it if I have done either. I beg you, forgive me, clumsy clod that I am.”
“Clumsy clod you are,” the creature agreed, “and I beg you leave me be. I have no need for your ‘good sirring’ nor your sorrying. Go on then, and bother someone else with your regret.”
“Won’t you at least tell me your name? And perhaps where I am and if there is a village nearby?” Mulgrin asked with a hint of desperation. This was not the way things were supposed to go on a Quest… The zimmik clearly wanted nothing to do with him! Surely this little lizard was meant to aid him in some way?
“My name is Proto-Ganzit,” the zimmik replied with a little sniff, “though I can’t imagine it will do you any good. You are in the Wilderwoods, and there are no villages for miles.”
“No villages! But surely someone must live nearby…”
The zimmik snorted. “Not likely. What did you expect this far from the road?”
Mulgrin’s heart sank all the way down into his empty stomach, where there was a great deal of grumbling and rumbling. His dismay at Proto-Ganzit’s abrupt dismissal was momentarily forgotten, driven out by the horror of no nearby villages.
Mulgrin had never gone so long without a proper meal in his life; three days had now passed since he ate the last of his food, and the few nuts, roots, and edible plants he had found were far from adequate. He had been certain that his suffering would soon be over, and some form of banquet would appear to reward him for his trials. After all, he had endured his suffering nobly, hadn’t he? Didn’t that mean something good had to happen? But without any villages, where in the Wide World was he to find food?
Mulgrin groaned, his hunger pains back in full force, summoned by the thought of food. He clutched his gut and swayed slightly, feeling suddenly lightheaded.
Mulgrin wondered in despair what he ought to do. Heroes didn’t starve. They might die in glorious battle, or sacrifice themselves for the greater good, but they simply did not die of starvation alone and lost in some forest! Mulgrin really wasn’t that keen on dying for any reason, but starving seemed like such an awful way to go...
Moaning piteously, Mulgrin plopped down on the forest floor and wept. How much longer would he have to endure his suffering? Surely he wasn’t really going to starve out here…
“What are you moaning and wailing about?” Proto-Ganzit sighed, peering down with weary impatience at Mulgrin.
Mulgrin forced his tears to stop, trying to calm himself down. He was being irrational. Of course he wouldn’t starve; it simply didn’t happen that way. He would survive, one way or another. He sniffed and wiped away his tears.
“I’ve not had a bite to eat in days, nor have I come across food of any kind,” Mulgrin lamented, sighing deeply as though hunger was one of many terrible burdens he was encumbered to bear for the greater good.
“You ought to have brought more food with you if you planned on traipsing aimlessly about in such a big forest,” Proto-Ganzit remarked, wrapping his tail neatly around his front feet. “I suppose the real question is what are you doing wandering through the Wilderwoods? There are roads you know, and plenty of travellers you might have joined. It’s no wonder you’re lost and starving, venturing right into the forest without a trail or map of any kind!”
“I’m on a Quest,” Mulgrin said, raising his chin proudly.
“What are you, some kind of wizard?” Proto-Ganzit snorted.
“Yes!” Mulgrin exclaimed excitedly. “I’m an apprentice, and I am on my Quest, to earn renown and honour and become a hero! If I succeed, I will earn my passage into Wizard-Dumm.”
