Teeth

[Paul Meccano]

I have a section of a short story here that I could do with feedback on. I havent written many, especially light hearted shorts like this one. I suppose the fact I can't post the whole thing here may work in my favour – I will be happy to here shouts of "more please, More!!"
Alternatively, You may be grateful its only part posted.
Thank you in advance me beauties.

TEETH

‘Gen-1 archive: research log accessed.’

‘Mind-flow: cognitive record aligned.’

‘Time-flow: fully transcribed.’

‘Playback: activated.’


‘Gen, I said are you recording??’

‘Recording activated’

Establish an emergency connection to base!

'Seeking Connection. User, please wait…'

When unable to see a particular source behind you, the harrowing sound of gnawing demands uncontrollable physical-responses, like cringing or frowning, the inability to speak – an inability in breathing – your last breath leaving in squeaks. Your heart might race in adrenaline fuelled beats, like bombs going off in your ear, but you'll gather yourself soon after then run, unless of course you're me, where having flapped your arms in incalculable directions, you’ll have first huff-up the visor in your bio-suit and waste precious moments in screaming.

Okay, so I panicked, it’s a natural response for sure, and without much practice in running of-late it’s a response I haven't the legs for. Too late now though; I already have a multitude of teeth, chewing through my bio-suit’s outer fabrics, where even with relatively-small teeth like this critter's, they're in the many and shouldn't be underestimated.

On top of that, I have a two-legged beast pursuing me – class unknown. It burst into my research bubble – an intervention making me jump in the air where I dropped the little critter and it promptly disappeared, only to turn up on my back.

I still have some hope at least, and what I now believe to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…



'Connection holding. User, please wait...'



Finally! A connecting signal back to base…

'… Scout Foally – first on profile-three. Chantry! Send out the Pick-n-mix, I'm being pursued – man down – Please hurry…'



That's me: Foally – Dylan. T; first scout on TerraX1 to go down, but not fully; I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, aren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slips bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds...



'Your message has yet to be received. User – please hold.'



'…arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride – meditatively-speaking of course – while at the same time meditatively rambling to myself – a guide perhaps – leading toward some form of relative calmness. And, as the sound of my own running feeds to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbing back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I'm seemingly okay with that. After all, they're all sounds helping cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations coming from the quickly diminishing outer-layers of my suit.



I'm doing my best to survive in what has just turned out to be a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, localised environment, where for now at least, I can consider myself managing – and so I should be. After all, I'm supposed to be the expert down here on teeth.



'Chantry… It's me, Foally, on first…'



'Connection has already been made. User, please wait – response delayed.'



We are very much like these toothed crustaceans, or Core-Reformers as we like to call them now. Like the one attached to my suit's fraying edges – a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans. They have teeth similar to ours for that matter, although miniaturised and just-a-tad more gnawish, designed for chewing at incredible speeds – a trick they've become surprisingly good at.

You could say, they have a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff – like me, or – for now, thankfully, just my suit.





As with us humans, variations are often found in Core-Reformer teeth – between this chaps' biters, let's say – one Reformer's being different to the next. Like Chantry's teeth are different to mine; nose-cones from a twin-drop rocket-pack up front – a mouth cramming thirty-two oddly-packed racks in it – the larger ones providing stability for that.

My teeth, in direct contrast, are akin to my mother's front teeth, hers giving mine an aesthetically pleasing foot up, which is most unlike the rest of me, from double-chin down, and pretty much lower-ankle up.

For her teeth, Chantry thuffers pwobwems wiff ethes and effs.

But especially marked differences between one Reformer and another's teeth over time? Like monkey and Homo-Erectus, from prehistoric man onto me? Not so much change there at all – essentially, nothing so dramatic it might make a difference to my current survival times.



'Mother-goose receiving Scout Foally — Sorry for the delay.'



'Send the pick-n-mix up Chantry, I'm in trouble, heading to your position from E22 and arriving…well, via running.'



'On foot. Why are you not in your environment bubble?'



There is a Core-Reformer, latched to my shoulder – my back – and it's chewing through my suit Chantry. Please Hurry!'



'The Pick-n-mix is inaccessible at present, we're having problems with the loading bay door. You should go back to your enviro-bubble Dylan. Wait… Did you say you have a Core-Reformer attached to something?'



'Yes, you heard me, I'm being chewed Chantry! I'm running. But I also have some kind of land-based biped chasing me. Like I say, please hurry, won't you?'



'Crap — hang on a mo.

'Look,' she continues, 'I'm sorry Dylan, but we hit a huge gas-pocket only twelve-minutes ago. It greased one of the ships aft-thrusters on landing – a frightful turn of events dropping us belly-down. There's no clearance at the ships back end for now. We simply can't get the pick-n-mix out to you… Sorry...'

She's paused – thinking no-doubt. I can only assume she imagines its easy running in a fully-loaded, research bio-suit.



'Dylan, you there still? I could offer you personnel; personnel to meet you on foot?'



'Yes, Chantry, whatever you've got – Shelly and Marc would be outstanding.'



Turning my head at the same time as running, I take a quick peek behind me; a trick my ma practised on Earth-Gen1 – her saviour, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties.

And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tag the beast and re-double my efforts, making a note as my suit counts me down from the fifties:

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things gaining!



'Send anyone — everyone — Tell them I've just pissed off ET. Actually — tell everyone ET's pissing-off me. Make sure they bring the skeletal-clamps, they may need pistols, too. Not the tranquillisers though – no – bring the tranquillisers, they might need more than one – damn it, bring two!'



'Fine.' Chantry says, 'Err… hold on.'



I'm no big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface you know, often playing tryptic-tracks far too loudly in calming my nerves on the go. It helps to block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22.

I hadn't heard it ripping the bubble for that reason alone, but, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.



'Chantry, please. I don't want to be screaming.'



'I'm here Dylan – Shelly's on her way with Brent. What in the hell do you think is chasing you then; there's nothing on TerraX1 with legs.'

 

[CTRandall]

While there is a lot in here that's good--the sound of gnawing, not hearing the beast because too busy dancing, some of the description of teeth and the limpet (I think you go on too long here, especially the bit about his own teeth)--but several elements are very confusing.

First, I have no idea why the random computer interruptions (?)(User--please wait, etc.) are here. It's fine to not fully explain something like this immediately, but a good ways into the story I still have almost no clue as to why they are there or what purpose they serve.

Second, there seems to be at least two different immediate threats to Dylan: the toothy thing chewing on his suit and the thing chasing him. In addition, his friends are having their own problems. If the point is that the whole expedition is royally screwed in every possible way, great, but I think you need to build that up. Give us one clear problem, then add the second, then the third. As it is, I don't know what is serious trouble and what is mere distraction.

Third, it starts with fear and danger but Dylan's thoughts wander off into musings about his own teeth, evolution and his mother's advice that he learn how to look behind him while running. The effect is that Dylan doesn't seem very focused on the danger he's in.

The overall lightly humerous tone works well. But I think the story needs to be more tightly focused on what is really happening. It almost feels like stream-of-conciousness writing and, while that could fit with a somewhat scatter-brained main character, at the moment it's getting in the way of the story.

 

[Edoc'sil]

@Paul Meccano - I quite enjoyed your piece, I am no expert by any means so I'll just tell you what I liked and didn't like. (Disclaimer: I may not have good reasons for these opinions.)

I liked the characters, they seemed real and the language made me imagine them well. I didn't really like the breaks with the machine talking, kinda threw me off. I get why you're doing it but they seem a bit thrown in there and again I understand that it's kind of meant to be like that but it's like in a michael bay movie where there are so many cuts you don't get to enjoy the scene for what it is. There aren't too many of them in yours but maybe I'd just like to see why they are there are bit more. Perhaps a bit more description at the start regarding them or just before the cuts maybe?

Another thing I disliked was some of the description of the scene or characters. e.g. in the first paragraph, response to the teeth "like cringing or frowning" ok cringing I can kinda understand but frowning? Why would you frown At gnashing teeth? I would either be attacking, running for my life, begging or some combination of those three. The next line describing the breath totally works and I would maybe just keep that as the description for what a certain character or hypothetical character is doing.

All in all I liked the first paragraph it was immediate and made me connect with the character, I like the way the story is told the narrator has a definite sense of voice.

However I agree with CTRandall in that I didn't really like the description of the teeth in the second paragraph, that last sentence could probably be reduced significantly.

On top of that, I have a two-legged beast pursuing me – class unknown. It burst into my research bubble – an intervention making me jump in the air where I dropped the little critter and it promptly disappeared, only to turn up on my back.

I don't like the use of intervention here, were they all sat around in a circle waiting for this monster to burst in and talk about his life choices? Also Im confused as to whether the creature now attacking him is the one that burst through in to the bubble or the one he dropped. Are they the same creature, is it both?

As the piece gets further on and it starts to get into the swing of it a bit more, those things I don't like I can kinda drop because I like the story. It's interesting, the tension could be amped up a tiny bit maybe but I enjoyed the piece and would read on. Also, not sure if it was on purpose, but a tiny bit more description on the main character might help me imagine it more, unless you were trying to create a void for the reader to slip into.

 

[Paul Meccano]

While there is a lot in here that's good--the sound of gnawing, not hearing the beast because too busy dancing, some of the description of teeth and the limpet (I think you go on too long here, especially the bit about his own teeth)--but several elements are very confusing.

First, I have no idea why the random computer interruptions (?)(User--please wait, etc.) are here. It's fine to not fully explain something like this immediately, but a good ways into the story I still have almost no clue as to why they are there or what purpose they serve.

Second, there seems to be at least two different immediate threats to Dylan: the toothy thing chewing on his suit and the thing chasing him. In addition, his friends are having their own problems. If the point is that the whole expedition is royally screwed in every possible way, great, but I think you need to build that up. Give us one clear problem, then add the second, then the third. As it is, I don't know what is serious trouble and what is mere distraction.

Third, it starts with fear and danger but Dylan's thoughts wander off into musings about his own teeth, evolution and his mother's advice that he learn how to look behind him while running. The effect is that Dylan doesn't seem very focused on the danger he's in.

The overall lightly humerous tone works well. But I think the story needs to be more tightly focused on what is really happening. It almost feels like stream-of-conciousness writing and, while that could fit with a somewhat scatter-brained main character, at the moment it's getting in the way of the story.

Thanks CT

Your comments are all valid.
The interruptions are from Dylan's active bio-suit and the story is a playback, this is discovered later on (it also inferes as much in the first few lines), I will take it in mind for now, but it doesn't interupt for the rest of the story (extra 2000 words)
Yes, I can edit if some descriptions are feeling too long. I find these get ironed out the more I edit; it seems to be a trait of mine that muffles my voice
Dylan may have panicked at the start, but he gradually gathers himelf in talking radomly at his suit as it records. Again it may work out later, but the rambling is supposed to be part of the story's overall charm.
I hope the story unfolds for you If I get to post it?

Would you read the rest and offer your thoughts for me?

P

 

[Paul Meccano]

@Paul Meccano - I quite enjoyed your piece, I am no expert by any means so I'll just tell you what I liked and didn't like. (Disclaimer: I may not have good reasons for these opinions.)

I liked the characters, they seemed real and the language made me imagine them well. I didn't really like the breaks with the machine talking, kinda threw me off. I get why you're doing it but they seem a bit thrown in there and again I understand that it's kind of meant to be like that but it's like in a michael bay movie where there are so many cuts you don't get to enjoy the scene for what it is. There aren't too many of them in yours but maybe I'd just like to see why they are there are bit more. Perhaps a bit more description at the start regarding them or just before the cuts maybe?

Another thing I disliked was some of the description of the scene or characters. e.g. in the first paragraph, response to the teeth "like cringing or frowning" ok cringing I can kinda understand but frowning? Why would you frown At gnashing teeth? I would either be attacking, running for my life, begging or some combination of those three. The next line describing the breath totally works and I would maybe just keep that as the description for what a certain character or hypothetical character is doing.

All in all I liked the first paragraph it was immediate and made me connect with the character, I like the way the story is told the narrator has a definite sense of voice.

However I agree with CTRandall in that I didn't really like the description of the teeth in the second paragraph, that last sentence could probably be reduced significantly.



I don't like the use of intervention here, were they all sat around in a circle waiting for this monster to burst in and talk about his life choices? Also Im confused as to whether the creature now attacking him is the one that burst through in to the bubble or the one he dropped. Are they the same creature, is it both?

As the piece gets further on and it starts to get into the swing of it a bit more, those things I don't like I can kinda drop because I like the story. It's interesting, the tension could be amped up a tiny bit maybe but I enjoyed the piece and would read on. Also, not sure if it was on purpose, but a tiny bit more description on the main character might help me imagine it more, unless you were trying to create a void for the reader to slip into.

I'm grateful for your feedback Edoc,sil
Thanks
I hear you on each count and am aware there is further editing I can do here. I was hoping to get an idea of whether it engages – would rather have posted the whole as its difficult to ask someone to read it again with the additional 2000words. You have given me the understanding that you would read on, which is excellent; the story has (literally) just got going and unfolds where we learn much more of what is happening. I prefer it as a whole rather than a part myself, and can see it may be challenging to gauge in segments.
The character is a little odd, true. Dylan is a scientist, has been cooped up for some time on a ship and was odd before. Its a comedy to a point, he's is an expert on teeth (kinda funny in itself), afterall; perhaps he's frowning in contemplation of his work? Maybe the story unfolding would help. And yes, the descriptions may need adjustment and don't worry, the suit's AI cutting in stops at this point in the story because Chantry has answered.

Would you read the rest if I posted it? I havn't had anyone read a short story of mine in full yet without sending a rejection letter and no feedback (Yeah I know, I can live with the pain) . That in itself would be a blessing.

Thanx again

 

[Wayne Mack]

I am having a hard time writing this critique because the style did not work for me. I have tried to read through it about three times and always reverted to skimming the text and never made it to the end. I was confused and never quite understood the plot. For me, I think, sticking to some more conventional techniques might help.

In the opening sequence, try setting an environment and using some dialog tags. It was unclear who was speaking or how many voices were speaking. I also feel like that that is a change in setting somewhere -- use a scene break to indicate that to the reader.

I was really confused as to the perspective. Was it a virtual reality ala "Total Recall" that was being played back? Was it a live action sequence that was being recorded? Then suddenly, it jumps into second person and then to first person narrator. These latter two seem at odds with this being either a playback or a live recording.

For me, the asides and musings negate any of the tension caused by being attacked by two creatures and having a comrade also injured or killed.

I never really got beyond halfway before giving up. I think there might be an action story trying to get out, but it feels underwritten and buried under obscure musing. I felt I was being jerked around to different perspectives and could never relate to the primary character or really care what happened to him.

I apologize that this sounds so negative, but, for me at least, the story was so confusing that I could not really get a grasp on what it was.

 

[Paul Meccano]

I am having a hard time writing this critique because the style did not work for me. I have tried to read through it about three times and always reverted to skimming the text and never made it to the end. I was confused and never quite understood the plot. For me, I think, sticking to some more conventional techniques might help.

In the opening sequence, try setting an environment and using some dialog tags. It was unclear who was speaking or how many voices were speaking. I also feel like that that is a change in setting somewhere -- use a scene break to indicate that to the reader.

I was really confused as to the perspective. Was it a virtual reality ala "Total Recall" that was being played back? Was it a live action sequence that was being recorded? Then suddenly, it jumps into second person and then to first person narrator. These latter two seem at odds with this being either a playback or a live recording.

For me, the asides and musings negate any of the tension caused by being attacked by two creatures and having a comrade also injured or killed.

I never really got beyond halfway before giving up. I think there might be an action story trying to get out, but it feels underwritten and buried under obscure musing. I felt I was being jerked around to different perspectives and could never relate to the primary character or really care what happened to him.

I apologize that this sounds so negative, but, for me at least, the story was so confusing that I could not really get a grasp on what it was.

Thanks for your input Wayne. Confusion reigns... Perhaps the whole story would help iron things out for you. It's always difficult posting in smaller sections then asking for helpful feedback. It's certainly not my best writing.

 

[The Judge]

I don't have time to do a proper critique, though do be aware there are some errors in the text, but just to say I didn't find it the easiest of reads and I pretty much gave up about half-way through -- the continual asides and irrelevancies added to the comedic voice, but rather undermined what was happening and any tension that you might have wanted to impart. (Though if you weren't intending to impart tension here and it was a purely comedic story, that's clearly less of a problem.)

However, regarding this:

I ... would rather have posted the whole as its difficult to ask someone to read it again with the additional 2000words. ... I prefer it as a whole rather than a part myself, and can see it may be challenging to gauge in segments.

We have all said or thought much the same about our own work eg "Yes, this bit perhaps isn't so interesting/engaging/easily understood, but all is made clear in the next bit" but that's no help, because the reader can only go by what is in front of her as she reads. If she finds that the opening isn't engaging for whatever reason, she likely isn't going to get to the next bit which is better or which clarifies the rest. Anyhow, although you can't put up the whole of the remainder of the story in one go, if you want you can put up the next 1,000 or so words in another thread in 4 or 5 days' time -- taking on board any comments from here which might be relevant -- and then the final 1,000 words a week or so after that. Otherwise, if you don't want to post the rest here, it's OK to ask for beta readers who'll give feedback on the whole thing in one go.

 

[Edoc'sil]

Of course I'd read what you wrote if you wanted to post some more. What the judge said is true though, it should mostly make sense without more information, unless you're purposefully obfuscating it.

My help may not be all that useful but maybe a fresh set of eyes would be nice.

 

[tinkerdan]

There is some good in all of this.
However, it feels disorganized and if I had to guess, I'd say that you typed this out directly on this page from scratch.
It needs a lot of work--however, you might want to organize your thoughts and your scene before considering all the changes.
You should probably start somewhere around the paragraph that starts When unable to see...
Even then I'm not a fan of what you have done with the second person stuff there. Second person can work, Douglas Adams made it work, but you need more practice at it. I would stick with first or third person POV.
I have removed the dialogue to focus on the actions to reorganize them in a proper order.
I suggest reading this out loud. That might give you some idea how difficult it is to read.

TEETH
When unable to see a particular source behind you, the harrowing sound of gnawing demands uncontrollable physical-responses, like cringing or frowning, the inability to speak – an inability in breathing – your last breath leaving in squeaks. Your heart might race in adrenaline fuelled beats, like bombs going off in your ear, but you'll gather yourself soon after then run, unless of course you're me, where having flapped your arms in incalculable directions, you’ll have first huff-up the visor in your bio-suit and waste precious moments in screaming.

Okay, so I panicked, it’s a natural response for sure, and without much practice in running of-late it’s a response I haven't the legs for. Too late now though; I already have a multitude of teeth, chewing through my bio-suit’s outer fabrics, where even with relatively-small teeth like this critter's, they're in the many and shouldn't be underestimated.

On top of that, I have a two-legged beast pursuing me – class unknown. It burst into my research bubble – an intervention making me jump in the air where I dropped the little critter and it promptly disappeared, only to turn up on my back.

I still have some hope at least, and what I now believe to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

That's me: Foally – Dylan. T; first scout on TerraX1 to go down, but not fully; I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, aren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slips bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds...

'…arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride – meditatively-speaking of course – while at the same time meditatively rambling to myself – a guide perhaps – leading toward some form of relative calmness. And, as the sound of my own running feeds to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbing back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I'm seemingly okay with that. After all, they're all sounds helping cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations coming from the quickly diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

I'm doing my best to survive in what has just turned out to be a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, localised environment, where for now at least, I can consider myself managing – and so I should be. After all, I'm supposed to be the expert down here on teeth.

We are very much like these toothed crustaceans, or Core-Reformers as we like to call them now. Like the one attached to my suit's fraying edges – a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans. They have teeth similar to ours for that matter, although miniaturised and just-a-tad more gnawish, designed for chewing at incredible speeds – a trick they've become surprisingly good at.

You could say, they have a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff – like me, or – for now, thankfully, just my suit.

As with us humans, variations are often found in Core-Reformer teeth – between this chaps' biters, let's say – one Reformer's being different to the next. Like Chantry's teeth are different to mine; nose-cones from a twin-drop rocket-pack up front – a mouth cramming thirty-two oddly-packed racks in it – the larger ones providing stability for that.

My teeth, in direct contrast, are akin to my mother's front teeth, hers giving mine an aesthetically pleasing foot up, which is most unlike the rest of me, from double-chin down, and pretty much lower-ankle up.

For her teeth, Chantry thuffers pwobwems wiff ethes and effs.

But especially marked differences between one Reformer and another's teeth over time? Like monkey and Homo-Erectus, from prehistoric man onto me? Not so much change there at all – essentially, nothing so dramatic it might make a difference to my current survival times.

Turning my head at the same time as running, I take a quick peek behind me; a trick my ma practised on Earth-Gen1 – her saviour, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties.

And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tag the beast and re-double my efforts, making a note as my suit counts me down from the fifties:

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things gaining!'

I'm no big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface you know, often playing tryptic-tracks far too loudly in calming my nerves on the go. It helps to block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22.

I hadn't heard it ripping the bubble for that reason alone, but, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

'Chantry, please. I don't want to be screaming.'

'I'm here Dylan – Shelly's on her way with Brent. What in the hell do you think is chasing you then; there's nothing on TerraX1 with legs.'

Now I will try to edit and order things.
Also it seems that you drift in an out of past and present tense, which usually isn't good and there is no rhyme or reason to it. I have tried to fix thos by using past tense.

TEETH
<I moved a paragraph up to the beginning and added the lines to the first paragraph of action>.
On top of that, I have a The two-legged beast, pursuing me – class unknown, . It burst into my research bubble; an intervention making me jump in the air where I and dropped the dangerous crustaceous little critter that disappeared and it promptly disappeared, only to promptly mount turn up on my back, a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from human. They, the Core-Reformers, have a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff. Teeth similar to ours, though miniaturized and more gnawish and designed for incredible speed. When u Unable to see a particular source behind me you, the harrowing sound of gnawing elicited demands uncontrollable physical-responses, like cringing, or frowning, the inability to speak or– an inability in breathing – your last breath leaving in squeaks. Your My heart might raced in with adrenaline fueled beats, like bombs going off in your my ears, but you'll gather yourself soon after then and I ran run, sort of, unless of course you're me, where having flapped your arms flapped in incalculable all directions, you’ll have firstI I'd huffed-up the visor in your my bio-suit and wasted precious moments in screaming. Okay, s So, yeah, I, Dylan T. Foally, first Scout on TerraX1, panicked, it’s a natural response for sure, and without much practice in running of-late it’s a response I hadn't haven't the legs for running and I fall. That's me: Foally – Dylan. T; first scout on TerraX1 to go down, but not fully;<(moved to earlier) I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, aren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slips bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds.

I still have had some hope at least, and what I now believed to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

I'm doing I did my best to survive in what has just had turned out to be a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, localised environment, where for now at least, I can consider myself managing – and so I should be. After all, I'm supposed to be the expert down here on teeth. '…arm Arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride, – meditatively-speaking of course – while at the same time meditatively rambling to myself – a guide perhaps- a meditative pose, leading toward some form of relative calmness. And, as The sound of my own running feeds to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbing back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I'm seemingly okay with that. After all, They're all sounds helped ing cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations coming from the quickly diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

Turning my head at the same time as running, I take While I ran I turned my head and took a quick peek glance behind me; a trick my ma practised on Earth-Gen1 – her savior, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties. And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tagged the beast and re-doubled my efforts, making a note as my suit counted s me down from the fifties:

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!'

I'm n No big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface you know, I often played playing tryptic-tracks far too loudly in calming my nerves on the go. It helps helped to block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22. I hadn't heard it ripping the bubble for that reason alone, but, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

---end edit---
Notes below

<Removed as redundant>
... Too late now though; I already have a multitude of teeth, chewing through my bio-suit’s outer fabrics, where even with relatively-small teeth like this critter's, they're in the many and shouldn't be underestimated.


<crossed off parts either redundant or unnecessary and other red were moved to earlier paragraphs.>
We are very much like these toothed crustaceans, or Core-Reformers as we like to call them now. Like the one attached to my suit's fraying edges – a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans. They have teeth similar to ours for that matter, although miniaturised and just-a-tad more gnawish, designed for chewing at incredible speeds – a trick they've become surprisingly good at.

You could say, they have a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff – like me, or – for now, thankfully, just my suit.
<These paragraph below have no place in this scene>
As with us humans, variations are often found in Core-Reformer teeth – between this chaps' biters, let's say – one Reformer's being different to the next. Like Chantry's teeth are different to mine; nose-cones from a twin-drop rocket-pack up front – a mouth cramming thirty-two oddly-packed racks in it – the larger ones providing stability for that.

My teeth, in direct contrast, are akin to my mother's front teeth, hers giving mine an aesthetically pleasing foot up, which is most unlike the rest of me, from double-chin down, and pretty much lower-ankle up.

For her teeth, Chantry thuffers pwobwems wiff ethes and effs.

But especially marked differences between one Reformer and another's teeth over time? Like monkey and Homo-Erectus, from prehistoric man onto me? Not so much change there at all – essentially, nothing so dramatic it might make a difference to my current survival times.

Without the edit notes:

Spoiler

The two-legged beast, class unknown, burst into my research bubble; an intervention making me jump in the air and drop the dangerous crustaceous little critter that disappeared, only to promptly mount my back, a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans. They, the Core-Reformers, had a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff. Teeth similar to ours, though miniaturized and more gnawish and designed for incredible speed. Unable to see behind me, the harrowing sound of gnawing elicited uncontrollable physical-responses, cringing, frowning, the inability to speak or breath. My heart raced with adrenaline fueled beats, like bombs in my ears, and I ran, sort of, arms flapping in all directions. I'd huffed-up the visor in my bio-suit and wasted precious moments screaming. So, yeah, I, Dylan T. Foally, first Scout on TerraX1, panicked. A natural response, I hadn't the legs for running and I fell. I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, weren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slip bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds.

I had hope at least, and what I believed to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

I did my best to survive in what had turned to a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, environment; where I was supposed to be the expert here on teeth. Arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride, a meditative pose, leading toward some form of relative calmness. The sound of my own running fed to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbing back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I'm okay with that. They all helped cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations from the diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

While I ran I turned my head and took a quick glance behind; a trick my ma practiced on Earth-Gen1 – her savior, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties. And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tagged the beast and re-doubled my efforts, making a note as my suit counted me down from the fifties:

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!'

No big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface, I often played tryptic-tracks far too loud in calming my nerves on the go. It helped block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22. That wasn't the only reason: because, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

Now I put back the dialogue.

Spoiler

The two-legged beast, class unknown, burst into my research bubble; an intervention making me jump in the air and drop the dangerous crustaceous little critter called a Core-Reformer, a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans, that disappeared, only to promptly mount my back. They, the Core-Reformers, had a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff. Teeth similar to ours, though miniaturized and more gnawish and designed for incredible speed. Unable to see behind me, the harrowing sound of gnawing elicited uncontrollable physical-responses; cringing, frowning, the inability to speak or breath.

‘Gen-1 archive: research log accessed.’

‘Mind-flow: cognitive record aligned.’

‘Time-flow: fully transcribed.’

‘Playback: activated.’

‘Gen, are you recording?’

‘Recording activated’

'Establish an emergency connection to base!'

'Seeking Connection. User, please wait…'

My heart raced with adrenaline fueled beats, like bombs in my ears, and I ran, sort of, arms flapping in all directions. I'd huffed-up the visor in my bio-suit and wasted precious moments screaming. So, yeah, I, Dylan T. Foally, first Scout on TerraX1, panicked. A natural response, I hadn't the legs for running and I fell.

'Connection holding. User, please wait...'

Finally! A connecting signal back to base…

'… Scout Foally – first on profile-three. Chantry! Send out the Pick-n-mix, I'm being pursued – man down – Please hurry…'

'Your message has yet to be received. User – please hold.'

I had hope at least, and what I believed to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

'Chantry… It's me, Foally, on first…'

'Connection has already been made. User, please wait – response delayed.'

I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, weren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slip bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds.
'Mother-goose receiving Scout Foally — Sorry for the delay.'

'Send the pick-n-mix up Chantry, I'm in trouble, heading to your position from E22 and arriving…well, via running.'

'On foot. Why are you not in your environment bubble?'

Probably not a good time to explain that, because I'm no big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface, I often played tryptic-tracks far too loud in calming my nerves on the go. It helped block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22. That wasn't the only reason: because, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

'There is a Core-Reformer, latched to my shoulder – my back – and it's chewing through my suit Chantry. Please Hurry!'

'The Pick-n-mix is inaccessible at present, we're having problems with the loading bay door. You should go back to your enviro-bubble Dylan. Wait… Did you say you have a Core-Reformer attached to something?'

'Yes, you heard me, I'm being chewed Chantry! I'm running. But I also have some kind of land-based biped chasing me. Like I say, please hurry, won't you?'

'Crap — hang on a mo.'

'Look,' she continues, 'I'm sorry Dylan, but we hit a huge gas-pocket only twelve-minutes ago. It greased one of the ships aft-thrusters on landing – a frightful turn of events dropping us belly-down. There's no clearance at the ships back end for now. We simply can't get the pick-n-mix out to you… Sorry...'

She's paused – thinking no-doubt. I can only assume she imagines its easy running in a fully-loaded, research bio-suit.

'Dylan, you there still? I could offer you personnel; personnel to meet you on foot?'

'Yes, Chantry, whatever you've got – Shelly and Marc would be outstanding.'

I did my best to survive in what had turned to a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, environment; where I was supposed to be the expert here on teeth. Arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride, a meditative pose, leading toward some form of relative calmness. The sound of my own running fed to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbed back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I was okay with that. They all helped cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations from the diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

While I ran I turned my head and took a quick glance behind; a trick my ma practiced on Earth-Gen1 – her savior, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties. And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tagged the beast and re-doubled my efforts, making a note as my suit counted me down from the fifties:

'Send anyone — everyone — Tell them I've just pissed off ET. Actually — tell everyone ET's pissing-off me. Make sure they bring the skeletal-clamps, they may need pistols, too. Not the tranquillizers though – no – bring the tranquillizers, they might need more than one – damn it, bring two!'

'Fine.' Chantry says, 'Err… hold on.'

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!'

'Chantry, please. I don't want to be screaming.'

'I'm here Dylan – Shelly's on her way with Brent. What in the hell do you think is chasing you then; there's nothing on TerraX1 with legs.'

This is how I'd edit it if it were mine.
You will likely do it differently.
However, you do need to work on it.

I don't know the full story and I certainly don't know the significance of this line.
Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!

 

[msstice]

Liked the piece. You could drop the computer messages and lose nothing. They were a little off-putting in an otherwise nicely paced and nicely mysterious flow. There is some confusion in my mind as to the thing or things chasing the narrator, and not in a good way. If it is the case that the narrator thinks it's a limpet attacking them but then finds out it's something with legs, this has to be made a little clearer. If it's two things, then this has to be made a little clearer. This is true even if the narrator is confused.

 

[Paul Meccano]

I don't have time to do a proper critique, though do be aware there are some errors in the text, but just to say I didn't find it the easiest of reads and I pretty much gave up about half-way through -- the continual asides and irrelevancies added to the comedic voice, but rather undermined what was happening and any tension that you might have wanted to impart. (Though if you weren't intending to impart tension here and it was a purely comedic story, that's clearly less of a problem.)

However, regarding this: We have all said or thought much the same about our own work eg "Yes, this bit perhaps isn't so interesting/engaging/easily understood, but all is made clear in the next bit" but that's no help, because the reader can only go by what is in front of her as she reads. If she finds that the opening isn't engaging for whatever reason, she likely isn't going to get to the next bit which is better or which clarifies the rest. Anyhow, although you can't put up the whole of the remainder of the story in one go, if you want you can put up the next 1,000 or so words in another thread in 4 or 5 days' time -- taking on board any comments from here which might be relevant -- and then the final 1,000 words a week or so after that. Otherwise, if you don't want to post the rest here, it's OK to ask for beta readers who'll give feedback on the whole thing in one go.

Thanks Judge

I understand all of your comments and respect where they are coming from ( there are details that are excessive that can be trimmed) but having read many boring/difficult openings to stories, I have just as regularly been surprised when they conclude in unexpected (sometimes very fulfilling) ways. I am also aware its good to hook early, not to bore the reader, but am all too aware that a story isn't a story without a beginning, end and middle. I asked to post this one as a whole on the private forum for a reason, perhaps I should have gone Beta rather than this forum. It's a shame I chose to adjust the first and second paragraph in submitting here for that matter, ruining a portion in doing so that now looks very obviously wrong in the cold light of day.
I have learned that posting here is a mixed bag, it reflects my nervousness in doing so. I have taken your comments on board.
I'm sorry you didn't have the time to offer yourself fully to this. I am however grateful.

 

[Paul Meccano]

Liked the piece. You could drop the computer messages and lose nothing. They were a little off-putting in an otherwise nicely paced and nicely mysterious flow. There is some confusion in my mind as to the thing or things chasing the narrator, and not in a good way. If it is the case that the narrator thinks it's a limpet attacking them but then finds out it's something with legs, this has to be made a little clearer. If it's two things, then this has to be made a little clearer. This is true even if the narrator is confused.

Thanks for the reply.
I think the story unfolding answers much of what you've commented on. I may post the rest in a week or two, if I can consider it a story worthy outside of my usual voice.
Cheers.
P

 

[Paul Meccano]

There is some good in all of this.
However, it feels disorganized and if I had to guess, I'd say that you typed this out directly on this page from scratch.
It needs a lot of work--however, you might want to organize your thoughts and your scene before considering all the changes.
You should probably start somewhere around the paragraph that starts When unable to see...
Even then I'm not a fan of what you have done with the second person stuff there. Second person can work, Douglas Adams made it work, but you need more practice at it. I would stick with first or third person POV.
I have removed the dialogue to focus on the actions to reorganize them in a proper order.
I suggest reading this out loud. That might give you some idea how difficult it is to read.



Now I will try to edit and order things.
Also it seems that you drift in an out of past and present tense, which usually isn't good and there is no rhyme or reason to it. I have tried to fix thos by using past tense.



Without the edit notes:

Spoiler

The two-legged beast, class unknown, burst into my research bubble; an intervention making me jump in the air and drop the dangerous crustaceous little critter that disappeared, only to promptly mount my back, a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans. They, the Core-Reformers, had a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff. Teeth similar to ours, though miniaturized and more gnawish and designed for incredible speed. Unable to see behind me, the harrowing sound of gnawing elicited uncontrollable physical-responses, cringing, frowning, the inability to speak or breath. My heart raced with adrenaline fueled beats, like bombs in my ears, and I ran, sort of, arms flapping in all directions. I'd huffed-up the visor in my bio-suit and wasted precious moments screaming. So, yeah, I, Dylan T. Foally, first Scout on TerraX1, panicked. A natural response, I hadn't the legs for running and I fell. I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, weren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slip bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds.

I had hope at least, and what I believed to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

I did my best to survive in what had turned to a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, environment; where I was supposed to be the expert here on teeth. Arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride, a meditative pose, leading toward some form of relative calmness. The sound of my own running fed to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbing back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I'm okay with that. They all helped cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations from the diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

While I ran I turned my head and took a quick glance behind; a trick my ma practiced on Earth-Gen1 – her savior, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties. And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tagged the beast and re-doubled my efforts, making a note as my suit counted me down from the fifties:

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!'

No big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface, I often played tryptic-tracks far too loud in calming my nerves on the go. It helped block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22. That wasn't the only reason: because, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

Now I put back the dialogue.

Spoiler

The two-legged beast, class unknown, burst into my research bubble; an intervention making me jump in the air and drop the dangerous crustaceous little critter called a Core-Reformer, a giant limpet, specifically crafted using genetics from humans, that disappeared, only to promptly mount my back. They, the Core-Reformers, had a knack for chewing through extremely tough-stuff. Teeth similar to ours, though miniaturized and more gnawish and designed for incredible speed. Unable to see behind me, the harrowing sound of gnawing elicited uncontrollable physical-responses; cringing, frowning, the inability to speak or breath.

‘Gen-1 archive: research log accessed.’

‘Mind-flow: cognitive record aligned.’

‘Time-flow: fully transcribed.’

‘Playback: activated.’

‘Gen, are you recording?’

‘Recording activated’

'Establish an emergency connection to base!'

'Seeking Connection. User, please wait…'

My heart raced with adrenaline fueled beats, like bombs in my ears, and I ran, sort of, arms flapping in all directions. I'd huffed-up the visor in my bio-suit and wasted precious moments screaming. So, yeah, I, Dylan T. Foally, first Scout on TerraX1, panicked. A natural response, I hadn't the legs for running and I fell.

'Connection holding. User, please wait...'

Finally! A connecting signal back to base…

'… Scout Foally – first on profile-three. Chantry! Send out the Pick-n-mix, I'm being pursued – man down – Please hurry…'

'Your message has yet to be received. User – please hold.'

I had hope at least, and what I believed to be the survival time of around twenty-two minutes…

'Chantry… It's me, Foally, on first…'

'Connection has already been made. User, please wait – response delayed.'

I got up and started running like the poorly-seasoned hub-dweller that I am, sadly lacking technique and speed, lung-capacity, and stamina for the chase in hand. Gravatic-boots, of the type built into this bio-suit, weren't going to help much, either – ribbing full of fluid, side slip bearing dental-clamps, batteries, pumps with flexible tooth-extractors – respectively and retrospectively – it's a suit designed for handling Core-Reformers while standing and was never meant for dashing over landscapes like these. Much like me then – they were never made for running at break-neck speeds.
'Mother-goose receiving Scout Foally — Sorry for the delay.'

'Send the pick-n-mix up Chantry, I'm in trouble, heading to your position from E22 and arriving…well, via running.'

'On foot. Why are you not in your environment bubble?'

Probably not a good time to explain that, because I'm no big fan of working the research bubbles on Terra-X1's surface, I often played tryptic-tracks far too loud in calming my nerves on the go. It helped block out painful silences – sadly, blocking out external sounds at the same time. Much as it did four-minutes ago, during the beast's violent-ripping of environment E22. That wasn't the only reason: because, due to the limited differences between its environment and my own, I also hadn't sensed the changes in pressure for the dancing I was doing at the time.

'There is a Core-Reformer, latched to my shoulder – my back – and it's chewing through my suit Chantry. Please Hurry!'

'The Pick-n-mix is inaccessible at present, we're having problems with the loading bay door. You should go back to your enviro-bubble Dylan. Wait… Did you say you have a Core-Reformer attached to something?'

'Yes, you heard me, I'm being chewed Chantry! I'm running. But I also have some kind of land-based biped chasing me. Like I say, please hurry, won't you?'

'Crap — hang on a mo.'

'Look,' she continues, 'I'm sorry Dylan, but we hit a huge gas-pocket only twelve-minutes ago. It greased one of the ships aft-thrusters on landing – a frightful turn of events dropping us belly-down. There's no clearance at the ships back end for now. We simply can't get the pick-n-mix out to you… Sorry...'

She's paused – thinking no-doubt. I can only assume she imagines its easy running in a fully-loaded, research bio-suit.

'Dylan, you there still? I could offer you personnel; personnel to meet you on foot?'

'Yes, Chantry, whatever you've got – Shelly and Marc would be outstanding.'

I did my best to survive in what had turned to a quickly-shifting, wholly-threatening, environment; where I was supposed to be the expert here on teeth. Arm forward, leg back, mind pitched at full-stride, a meditative pose, leading toward some form of relative calmness. The sound of my own running fed to my suit speakers in chaffs – legs rubbed back-and-forth, breath less-fraught than on first-contact – I was okay with that. They all helped cover the toothy-scuffs and vibrations from the diminishing outer-layers of my suit.

While I ran I turned my head and took a quick glance behind; a trick my ma practiced on Earth-Gen1 – her savior, she'd say, in staving-off overbalancing. "Practice it Dylan" she preached – helmet on, running up the concourse full speed. I could never imagine just what for until now, although she did happen to mention she was chased in her twenties. And so, faltering somewhat in both stride and direction – decidedly so, through extreme lack of practice – I tagged the beast and re-doubled my efforts, making a note as my suit counted me down from the fifties:

'Send anyone — everyone — Tell them I've just pissed off ET. Actually — tell everyone ET's pissing-off me. Make sure they bring the skeletal-clamps, they may need pistols, too. Not the tranquillizers though – no – bring the tranquillizers, they might need more than one – damn it, bring two!'

'Fine.' Chantry says, 'Err… hold on.'

Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!'

'Chantry, please. I don't want to be screaming.'

'I'm here Dylan – Shelly's on her way with Brent. What in the hell do you think is chasing you then; there's nothing on TerraX1 with legs.'

This is how I'd edit it if it were mine.
You will likely do it differently.
However, you do need to work on it.

I don't know the full story and I certainly don't know the significance of this line.
Fifty-three, fifty-four, five, six… Hell — the bloody-things was gaining!

The protaganist has been reading poetry at the entertainment hub as part of a rotor, a poetic tone has taken hold in his ramblings; sometime context helps in posting to a critique forum. I should have posted the whole on the private forum or gone to Beta. I have taken valid comments on board. Sorry you spent the time ditracting from voice and story when it may have made more sense as a whole Tinkerdan :0)

Thanx
P

 

[tinkerdan]

I never waste time.
I always get more out of this than anyone else
when I go through someone's work.
Even if you take nothing from it.
I always gain.

Keep writing.

 

[The Judge]

It's a shame I chose to adjust the first and second paragraph in submitting here for that matter, ruining a portion in doing so that now looks very obviously wrong in the cold light of day.
I have learned that posting here is a mixed bag, it reflects my nervousness in doing so.

When you say you adjusted the first and second paragraphs, did you do that because of the word limit? That was a pity if so, and wasn't needed. But anyway, if your original opening paragraphs were different, I'd suggest you post them here now, and in that way we can see if they would have helped in our reading of the piece. (Notwithstanding the 1500 word limit, you can put up alternative versions of the same extract on the same thread, provided that the revised/alternative extract is itself under 1500 words.)

And yes, posting here isn't a panacea, but it is a useful stepping stone in learning to pace work and in receiving feedback, and I really don't think you'd have had more or better critiques if you'd posted the whole thing in one lump in WG. Experience shows that generally the longer the piece the fewer people actually bother to look at it. But, as I say, you can achieve much the same effect by posting in tranches here in Critiques -- members will be happy to help by reading a second extract, and can always come back here and read the first to get up to speed again if need be. If you look back in the forum, you'll see BT Jones did exactly this with his The Inexorable Rise -- have a look at his threads and you'll see how the comments there deal with each separate extract but also how pieces work cumulatively.

 

[Paul Meccano]

When you say you adjusted the first and second paragraphs, did you do that because of the word limit? That was a pity if so, and wasn't needed. But anyway, if your original opening paragraphs were different, I'd suggest you post them here now, and in that way we can see if they would have helped in our reading of the piece. (Notwithstanding the 1500 word limit, you can put up alternative versions of the same extract on the same thread, provided that the revised/alternative extract is itself under 1500 words.)

And yes, posting here isn't a panacea, but it is a useful stepping stone in learning to pace work and in receiving feedback, and I really don't think you'd have had more or better critiques if you'd posted the whole thing in one lump in WG. Experience shows that generally the longer the piece the fewer people actually bother to look at it. But, as I say, you can achieve much the same effect by posting in tranches here in Critiques -- members will be happy to help by reading a second extract, and can always come back here and read the first to get up to speed again if need be. If you look back in the forum, you'll see BT Jones did exactly this with his The Inexorable Rise -- have a look at his threads and you'll see how the comments there deal with each separate extract but also how pieces work cumulatively.

Hi Judge

I adjusted for character and flow prior to posting on the first two paragraphes. I did so at 11pm at night after a hard day. Looking back I messed that up. However, that said, I hear what you're saying. I am back on my novel nd may revisit this with fresh eyes. Thanks.
P