(John is a generic name until I think of something better.)Working Title is Frontiersman.

(Revision)
John, having completed harvesting the last few rows of wheat, turned the combine in towards the barn as the sun began to dip behind the mountain. Even in the failing light he could see the black words spray-painted on the side of his home as he locked up the great barn doors. Another window was broken but the house was in order. To his relief no one had entered and destroyed or stolen anything. This improvement was what he was hoping for when he left his military career for the life he had long desired. The house was just what he and his wife had always wanted. Out in the country, but not too far from civilization. Two stories, white with a wrap-around porch, and plenty of windows. A place to raise their children away from the world. John swept up the broken glass and covered the window

(2nd Revision)
John, having completed harvesting the last few rows of wheat, touched the computer screen to shut down the threshing wheel and turned the control stick to maneuver the combine in towards the barn. A small grin appeared on his face when he thought of how easily he learned to operate the complex machine, considering he had never sat in the cab until that morning. It reminded him of his impressed flight instructors the first time he took a fighter to the skies. Of course they never said so, but he could tell from the way they barked out reprimands for his minor mistakes. They could think of nothing better. The sun began to dip behind the hills, even in the failing light he could see the black words spray-painted on the side of his home as he locked up the great barn doors. A window was broken but

(3rd Revision) I decided I needed to start the story earlier.
John woke to the sound of a rooster crowing. While he was putting on his thick overalls and jacket he paused for a moment as he looked at the portrait of his wife he kept on the night stand. He let out a soft sigh, zipped up his jacket and went down stairs for a quick breakfast. The sun was still cresting over the horizon as he walked out to his large barn. The dim light gave an amber glow to his large field of wheat.
“Hello neighbor.”
John somewhat surprised, looked across the fence to see a man harnessing a team of horses to a harvester.
“Oh, good morning Samuel.” John said
“You have a fine looking crop Mr. Barlow, are you ready for the harvest?’
“I certainly am, and thank you.” said John

[This message has been edited by RSJ (edited January 08, 2010).]

[This message has been edited by RSJ (edited January 08, 2010).]

John, having completed harvesting the last few rows of wheat, turned the combine in towards the barn as the sun began to dip behind the mountain. Even in the failing light he could see the black words spray-painted on the side of his home as he locked up the great barn doors. Another window was broken but the house was in order. To his relief no one had entered and destroyed or stolen anything. This improvement was what he was hoping for when he left his military career for the life he had long desired. The house was just what he and his wife had always wanted. Out in the country, but not too far from civilization. Two stories, white with a wrap-around porch, and plenty of windows. A place to raise their children away from the world. John swept up the broken glass and covered the windo

Since the vandalism is ongoing, what makes it different this time? Why are you starting the story here?

If your characters are passive about the events of your story then your reader will feel that passivity too and wonder why this moment is important to the character.

Just some things to think about. Hope they help.

Descriptions can come later (if it works for you).

He seems to care enough about the vandalism that he plans to clean it up in fairly short order. He should have some emotional attachment to the place; it was part of his and his wife's dreams, and he had "long desired" this life. In the first version he cooks a meal for himself, no mention of anyone else, so I assume his wife is dead or gone. Lots of reasons to feel something stronger than the boredom that's oozing from him.

The long description of how wonderful this house is could wait until later -- or if it were shorter, I think the contrast would increase.

So my real question is do I start the story somewhere else, or would it be more interesting if told you the word/s painted on his house if they eluded to some modern hatred?

quote:

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John[[Comma]] having completed harvesting the last few rows of wheat turned the combine in towards the barn as the sun began to dip behind the mountain.[[This sentence has a good and vital purpose, but its is a bit unwieldy and to me lacked a real oportunity for something vivid. See note: #1]] Even in the failing light[[How is the light failing? The sun? Did it fail to stay up for its allotted fourteen hours? Doesn't make sense to me. I appreciate poetic metaphores but this one didn't do it for me]] he could see the black words[[Ia this point I would like to see the words. Or you could simply call them graphitti]] spray-painted on the side of his home as he locked up the great barn doors. Another window was broken but the house was in order. No one had entered and destroyed or stolen anything.[[Then why mention it? it is implied by the sentence before and the one following. He also seems quite indifferent about this entire situation.]] The house was just what he and his wife had always wanted. Out in the country, but not too far from civilization. Two stories, white with a wrap-around porch, and plenty of windows. A place to raise their children away from the world.[[See Note:#2]] John swept up the broken glass and covered the window with plastic. He would sand away the graffiti and paint over it tomorrow. After he cooked a meal for himself he went upstairs...

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Note:#1 Potential actions that could add detail and impact; Pausing, wiping the sweat from his brow with rough caloussed hands, feeling relieve to see only one more row to plow, sensing that his oxen or ass, or horse was seemingly just as excited to know they were almost done, feeling his throbbing feet numly sinking into the freshly plowed earth etc...

Note:#2 The description of the house to me seems long-winded and somehow disturbingly flat. I suppose it is the lack of emotional response from the POVF charater that is striking my nerves as I read this. There are clues here I suppose about the upcomming conflic(someone vandalizing his house) potential conlict in "She wanted to move her but I...." but there is no follow through on any of it because the viewpoint is so flat. He doesn't seem angry about it at all so at first I thought he might be some "bhudda patient" guy. Then there is the other potential conflict about how he feels about living here, but it never develops.

This intro ends with him making a meal for himself and going to bed implying that he is alone, but they(wife and kids) had always dreamed(the only emotional clue I found)about living her. Where are they? this is a potential point of interest or conflict as is the Vandalism, but the MC is so flat I was totally turned off. I also felt that there was alot of information, perhaps too much info in this intro, but not enough detail. Does that make sense? I would mush rather know How the MC feels about the walls of his house being graffitied up and vandalized much more than if it is two stories or not. I would much rather feel his jaw clench as he remembered how his family was murdered or whatever left him alone than here a summary of what seems must be a few hours at least that the span of this intro covers. Some stories don't even cover that much time.

I hope I am not coming across too critical. I find I get myself riled up from time to time when I encounter stories in which I see huge potential that is misguided. I just want to help you make this one work.

I recomend focusing on the primary conflict and getting the MC some real emotion. One of the most important goals in the first thirteen is to establish an emotional connection between the reader and the MC. I am trying now to imagine myself in the MC's shoes. I will write it in the first person present tense simply for demonstrative purpose. Of course I am speculating on conflicts and key facts I am sure. Mostly because there were too few clues to make an inference.

Suns startin to set over the mountain ridge. Trigger winnies. I can tell she is just as relived to be done plowin as we look down our last row. Past the point of pain, my feet are so damned numb the new plowed lanes feel like I am walking in butter. I have to look at em just to make sure they are doin what theys supposed to. At the end of the row I finally look up.
Damnit, even in the dim sunset I can see the graffiti on the walls of my house--Our dream house--or it was. NOt again. I don't even know why I stay anymore, now that Karen and my little susie are gone. We thought the country would be a wholesome place to raise a baby girl--a safe place. Now they are gone We couldn't have been more wrong.
As I unbridle trigger I feel sorry for the old mare. I work her so hard, and for what? I don't even have anything to work for anymore. I don't even know why I stay. Sometimes I get stuck in the memories. Everything is as though it is on a reel.
As I sweep up the broken glass, I am at least relieved that they didn't ramsack the inside. If i just left--iwouldn't have to deal with these bastards anymore. They killed my girls and now they just reminded me on my impotence. I should have stopped them...

This is just some random things that come to me when I put myself in the boots of the MC here. I hope it helps. I'll be glad to look over your entire story if I haven't offended you too much here already.

I'll rewrite it and repost. Thanks

I know it's more than 13 lines but here's the revised beginning.

John, having completed harvesting the last few rows of wheat, touched the computer screen to shut down the threshing wheel and turned the control stick to maneuver the combine in towards the barn. A small grin appeared on his face when he thought of how easily he learned to operate the complex machine, considering he had never sat in the cab until that morning. It reminded him of his impressed flight instructors the first time he took a fighter to the skies. Of course they never said so, but he could tell from the way they barked out reprimands for his minor mistakes. They could think of nothing better. The sun began to dip behind the hills, even in the failing light he could see the black words spray-painted on the side of his home as he locked up the great barn doors. A window was broken but

Does the transition between his thoughts and the narration seem clunky?

[This message has been edited by RSJ (edited December 24, 2009).]

1) Some of the sentences are a bit long (the first, for example). Try breaking them up.
2) This whole passage needs to be broken into paragraphs (I wonder if it just didn't format properly when you copied it in).
3) This is all in 3rd person, but there's a sentence that looks like first ("I came to this backwoods...").
4) There seems to be a little more emotion from John, (such as fists clenched, the small grin), but he still seems too remote for me to care. The elements are there (the vandalism, the absent wife & children, the lost dreams) for me to expect stronger feelings from him, but he doesn't seem to have them.
5) I'm not very good at this myself, but you need a little more showing and a little less telling to get us closer to John. You make a stab at it with

quote:

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He stood on the front porch his fists clenched in frustration that his home, something he almost considered sacred, had been defiled.

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quote:

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He stood on the porch and clenched his fists.

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I think the length of your sentences and descriptions (and those "ing" words) are getting between me and John. Better, but not quite.

But the truth is, the third revision gives us setting and the hint that the MC appreciates his wife. It doesn't give us any sense of conflict. All we know is it's a story about a farmer. The event of the morning routine and greeting a neighbor reads rather flat. It might be okay if it gives us a sense that there is something terribly unique about this person but that doesn't come through here.

I think you were closer when you were starting with him discovering the vandalism. But I think you need to show his reaction, his feelings in a stronger tone.

Maybe something like:

"John cursed under his breath as he swept up the glass from the latest round of vandalism. They hadn't damaged anything inside but this round of hate graffiti had gotten particularly personal. Die you lousy Hoggerag! it had said. All he wanted was some peace and to harvest some wheat. Why couldn't they forget the past? Why wouldn't they just leave him alone?

He looked at his wife's apron hanging on the hook in the kitchen and his heart sank. It had been empty for days. He had sent her away so she would be safe but his life just didn't feel right without her at his side."

I'm sure you can come up with something better and please forgive my intrusion on your idea but I thought an illustration might help.

But something like this gets you into the MC's head, gives a quick setting and the conflict. You can start lacing in the other details of his life as it goes on and flesh out the reason for the vandalism in the first place.

Of course these are just suggestions. Take them as you will.

Hope this helps.