I'm working on rewriting my novel A Dream of the West yet again. So far I've only been at the first Chapter but would be interested in getting your comments so far. It's epic fantasy and the chapter is about 6k (ish - I've been cutting quite a bit and dont have access to it at the moment. I'll update on the length this evening). Here are the first 13.
quote:
Antinon's funeral pyre lit up the night. Jareth stood on the hill as the fire billowed out in the breeze, his eyes bright with unshed tears. The last priest east of the Mother's Back was dead and there was no one to take his place."You are the only one there is," the old man had scolded whenever Jareth failed to grasp the Font of the Gods in his prayers. Frowning, Jareth closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the stiffness in his limbs from the hours he had spent kneeling, trying to shut out the feeling of dismay to which he had grown so accustomed as to expect whenever Al-V'Annin's light evaded him
He could fancy he heard Antinon's voice even now, an echo of a life forever lost. As Jareth watched fire consume the old man's corpse, the tears spilled down his cheeks as hot as the flames.
When the ashes were cold and the dawn spilled over the vast Umbarto Plain where the Goddess Thaliana ruled, he climbed down the hill. Marnyth and her apprentice were gathering the herbs from her garden. The Shaman lived apart. The young girl helping her was Winna Gale, the Blacksmith's daughter. As Jareth approached, she jumped to her feet, her face paling slightly. She glanced to Marnyth who nodded. At that simple gesture, the girl took off like a hare down towards the village where the other children were playing.
Thanks R
oops - a bt longer than I thought...
[This message has been edited by RFLong (edited April 28, 2005).]
(The first sentence doesn't quite merge with the second one I've put it below but that may not work either) Frowning, Jareth closed his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the stiffness in his limbs from the hours he had spent kneeling, trying to shut out the feeling of dismay to which he had grown so accustomed {as} to expect whenever Al-V'Annin's light evaded him. "You are the only one there is," the old man Antinon had scolded whenever Jareth failed to grasp the Font of the Gods in his prayers. (Hmmm difficult to make sense of this one - does all of this need to be here?)
He could fancy he heard Antinon's voice even now, an echo of a life forever lost. As Jareth watched fire consume the old man's corpse, the tears spilled down his cheeks as hot as the flames. (already made a point of his sadness at the beginning, perhaps find another way to show sorrow apart from tears/not tears)
(Too many new names all in a short time)
When the ashes were cold and the dawn spilled over the vast Umbarto Plain where the Goddess Thaliana ruled, he climbed down the hill. Marnyth and her apprentice were gathering the herbs from her garden. The Shaman lived apart. (not quite clear on first read that the shaman is Marnyth) The young girl helping her was Winna Gale, the Blacksmith's daughter. As Jareth approached, she jumped to her feet, her face paling slightly. She glanced to Marnyth who nodded. At that simple gesture, the girl took off like a hare down towards the village where the other children were playing.
My feeling is - strangely as it is something I seldom say - that this needs to be longer. Introductions to new places and people slower.
[This message has been edited by limo (edited April 28, 2005).]
I will do so this evening.
limo - I had to laugh. The names are all in that short space because I took a large part of flashback out - the old "cure one problem create another" ploy!
The piece as a whole had problems, but that's why its up here. Have at it.
R
wasn't offended in the least. Good to hear you like the ideas.
R
