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Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Cadrýr crouched behind a bush, watching his mirror brother who was up to mischief, again. As his twin disappeared, he followed Pyrfindil into the cavern of the House of Forges. The great grotto which housed the heavy forges of the âlfer, heated by a crevasse---a vent to the heart of the mountain.

A day did not pass when Pyrfindil was not looking for devilment of one kind or another. “What are you doing in here?” Cadrýr asked.

“I’m on an errand if you must know. You can stay and watch, or you can help,” Pyrfindil said. He strode up to the vault and flagged down the quartermaster.
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Cadrýr crouched behind a bush, watching his mirror brother who was up to mischief, again.

What I'm missing here is any sense of place. Cadryr is hiding behind a bush. Is he in a garden? Coastal sage scrub? Forest? Is it a creosote bush in the desert. It doesn't have to be--possibly shouldn't be--a long description, but there probably should be enough to let the reader begin to draw a picture of this world. Or at least this part of it. And to keep them from drawing the wrong picture and having to revise it, later.

I like the term 'mirror brother'. However, how does Cadryr know that his twin is up to mischief? Sink us deeper into Cadryr's POV so that we get this information in his own thoughts, not as the narrator telling us. I mean, I assume the brother isn't always up to mischief. He must be serious some of the time or there'd be consequences--like the boy who cried wolf or restrictions on his movements or something.

quote:
As his twin disappeared, he followed Pyrfindil into the cavern of the House of Forges. The great grotto which housed the heavy forges of the âlfer, heated by a crevasse---a vent to the heart of the mountain.
Okay, so we're on a mountain and there are forges, which are, apparently a big deal. If these forges are indeed important to this story or to these people, then a little more description of this cavern is probably warranted, too. The noise from the hammering, the figures moving busily about their work, the red light of the forge fires, etc. and the contrast between that and the outside. Perhaps having to wait until his eyes adjust, etc.
They should be details that are noticed by Cadryr--what he notices implies for the reader what's important to him and gives us a window into who this character is. And transporting the reader into this fantasy world is a good way to engage readers. (That's advice from David Farland, not me.)

quote:
A day did not pass when Pyrfindil was not looking for devilment of one kind or another. “What are you doing in here?” Cadrýr asked.
Okay, you already told us that Pyrfindil is probably up to something. You don't need to repeat it.

Does Cadryr always confront his brother like this? If they're twins, is he sometimes blamed for his brother's mischief and so he's trying to prevent a repeat? Is he the older or more responsible brother, so he's been tasked with keeping an eye on the troublemaker? Deeper in Cadryr's POV you could let the reader know why he follows his brother and why he's concerned about it. Also, he was following Pyrfindil, apparently from hiding. Presumably his brother doesn't know he's being followed. So does Cadryr come up beside his twin, or grab his arm, or just say this without any preamble at all? And if so, does Pyrfindil jump or show any surprise that Cadryr's there?

quote:
“I’m on an errand if you must know. You can stay and watch, or you can help,” Pyrfindil said. He strode up to the vault and flagged down the quartermaster.
A quick something to give a hint at the brothers' ages would be good, too. As a reader, I'm going to react differently to twelve-year-olds acting like this than I will to twenty-somethings.

Otherwise, this seems like a good place to start what could be an interesting story.
 
Posted by WarrenB (Member # 10927) on :
 
Hi Silk. Thanks for sharing. Not a lot to add to Meredith's comments. I strongly agree with the point about 'sense of place'. The rest of my feedback is more a matter of taste -- just one reader's reaction, in other words.

The second thing that strikes me is around naming: Cadrýr, Pyrfindil, the âlfer.

I'm not immediately sure what the accents mean for the pronunciation of these names (linguistics ain't my strong suit). Perhaps it's a minor matter, but this makes me hesitant about reading on... They sound awkward to my inner ear (probably because I'm inwardly pronouncing them incorrectly) -- and might continue to do so, page after page. Fewer syllables would be helpful: even if they're just nicknames/contractions (e.g. Cad and Fin).

There's something vaguely elvish about the names too... Which also raises questions... There's a lot of elves out there; I'm not sure I want to meet more, though I might be in a minority there.

I like the 'mirror brother' idea -- hints at the culture of these people; as do the forges. I'm curious to learn more about that and about where we are. But, if I was feeling lazy, I might not get past the first thirteen; the names discourage and the hints of elf (or dwarf, what with the forges) do not encourage because I've read (and watched) so much along those lines. Of course, my assumptions might be way off-base... As with all feedback, please take what's useful and discard the rest.

[ January 15, 2019, 05:23 AM: Message edited by: WarrenB ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
I am not engaged as a reader. The first three reasons are the choice of names for characters and, maybe, a thing:

Cadrýr
Pyrfindil
âlfer

Okay, how do I pronounce them? Also, shouldn’t âlfer be Âlfer? Now, what about the anachronism: quartermaster. I quote from Etymology Dictionary Online:
quote:
quartermaster (n.)
early 15c., "subordinate officer of a ship," from French quartier-maître or directly from Dutch kwartier-meester; originally a ship's officer whose duties included stowing of the hold; later (c. 1600) an officer in charge of quarters and rations for troops.

We’re not on a ship, we may be in the military, but I doubt it and, if the name is a title, shouldn’t it be Quartermaster?

All these niggling little issues leave me wondering if I can trust you to deliver a story I’d want to read. That’s regardless of age group/target audience. As it is at the moment, every issue I’ve mentioned has thrown me out of the story dream rather violently.

These things will do for sufficient reason not to read on at the moment. Meredith has also pointed out issues that reinforce the decision not to read on.

I know, it’s hard and frustrating and demoralising, but we’ve all been through it. The wounds aren’t mortal, though that doesn’t make them less painful. My advice? Take the criticism you get and use it as a tool to improve. Just don’t make any drastic changes until you understand why we said the things we said.

Hope this helps, and keep on swinging.

Phil.
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
Well, as an equal opportunity basher, let me sharpen my snickersnee...

Seriously, I see one overriding problem here that calls into being all the things that were mentioned, which is that you, the storyteller, are telling the reader a story. You're chronicling what happens, and adding in authorial commentary to explain the importance of the events.

That would seem to be the role of the storyteller. And when wr tell a story to an audience, with no visual aids or actors to bring the story to life, it can work. But on the page?

First, our job is not to make the reader know the progression of events, and their meaning. It is not to make the reader know the characters and their background. Do that and the reader is informed, just as they are with any report, chronicle, or history text. Entertained? Hell no. And that matters because the reader is with you to be entertained.

Our medium is unique. For one thing it's serial, so instead of taking in the scene—the people in it, and the ambiance—at a glance, as we do in life and for film and plays, the author must spell it out, one item at a time, which is slooooow, and can bore a reader pretty quickly. So we must pare away every word that does not set the scene, meaningfully, develop character, or move the plot.

Another problem is that because you know the characters, their motivation, and their backstory, you don't include things that are necessary, but to you, obvious—which is why you didn't work harder to develop a sense of place. And because of the plot-event based approach and external reporter, you'll assign lines and actions to the characters based on the needs of the plot, even in the case where a living person with the personality and resources you assign the protagonist or character would say, "Hell no, I won't do that." So they're smart when smart is needed, and dumb when the plot needs that.

How real can that seem?

Here's the deal: Our goal is to make the reader feel, not know. If we write a love scene we don't want the reader to know what happens. We want to make it seem so real to the reader that they turn to their partner and give them "that" smile. We want the reader to care, and to be entertained. And no way in hell can we do that with the report-writing skills we're given in in our school days.

You have the desire. That's great. You have the language skills and the dedication. And what I'm talking about isn't related to talent. It's that like everyone else, you left school certain that writing-is-writing, and you have that part taken care of. But who's to say differently. Our teachers learned their writing skills in the same classrooms, and they're not best-selling fiction writers. So since we're all hit with the problem on the way to publication, it's no big deal. It just means you probably won't be rich and famous by next New Year's Eve.

So do a bit of digging into the tricks the pros take for granted, like how to present a character's viewpoint so realistically that if someone punches the protagonist the reader flinches. You'll love what it does for your writing, and how many options appear that you never knew existed, because, as Mark Twain put it, “It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.”

A great resource is the local public library's fiction-writing section. And while you're there, or at your favorite online bookseller, my personal suggestion is tro seek the names, Dwight Swain, Jack Bickham, or Debra Dixon on the cover. They're gold.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
An individual and a sibling.

Eleven lines, by the way. Empty lines don't count as part of Hatrack's thirteen lines.

Here's what I get: Cadrýr (Gaelic-Arabic mesh) pesters his brother Pyrfindi (Persian-Hindi mesh) for his adventurous misbehavior. The prig would tattletale at the first misstep. I'm telling Mom. And the two squabble like spoiled brat children. Mom, Cadrýr antagonizes me. Pyrfindi started it. Huh-uh, he started it. Yada.

Not much to like, nor much appeal about two brothers' tame sibling rivalry, nor much natural malfeasance that readers love to hate. Or also, crevice, crevasse, a vent from the heart of Mount Doom, or Erebor, where a magic metal or crystal object will be forged or found to rule them all. Yeah, uh, cliché, and J.R.R. Tolkien's milieu -- copycatted and diluted interminably by mediocre and plagiarized and copyright-infringed for fan and slash fantasy fiction melodrama.

The fragment as is rushes and forces and poisons tension past development and on already to the next tension setup, also spoliated tension entrainment.

And is there a paint by numbers manual for how to write mediocre fantasy and science fiction?
  1. Protagonist's name is the first word.
  2. Protagonist watches someone or something from a distance.
  3. Faulty conjunction-joined sentences force not-simultaneous circumstances (As)
  4. Inapt and inept overlong sentence fragments
  5. Overwrought names, nouns, and verbs, and lackluster same
  6. Excess and inapt negation and double or more negatives
  7. Inauthentic period language imitation mannerisms
  8. Bland dialogue of a mostly pleasantries mien
  9. Said-bookisms (question mark and "asked," for example, at least not a "he ejaculated," though)
  10. Melodrama's sole focus of coincidental event emphasis for manipulated appeal's sake without attendant, leavened, persuasive, dramatic event, setting, and character development, or flat sentimental melodrama, or both
  11. Composition that reads the same as a middle school "What I Did on My Winter Vacation"
  12. Little, if any, tension development, or tension spoiled at every turn
  13. Trite antagonism, inverted causation, as well as inapt and inept tension sequence management
  14. Awry punctuation, and diction and syntax glitches
  15. Disjointed narrative point of view (at haphazard happenstance switches between narrator and viewpoint persona -- focal agonist, protagonist -- viewpoints)
  16. Etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseam

One standout is also a stumbler, usually are some of each for standouts, that is, the "mirror brother." Soon enough clarified that means twins, though occasion missed to shine forth characterization.

Mirror symmetry entails lateral inversion, right is left, left is right, up and down and back and forth are up and down and back and forth. Is one twin right-handed dexter and the other left-handed sinister? Or is one the Goofus and the other the Gallant, per the Highlights for Children "Goofus and Gallant" cartoon strip? Or similar other mirror symmetry?

The Blood of Karaborre, too -- bore, chiefly Australian & New Zealand well "bore" and fantasy motif for a mine site -- is a title the likes of fan and slash fantasy mediocrity, and too much commercial and airport shop fantasy fiction. The title evokes a colorful bodice or tunic ripper and torn breeches, black jackboots, rakish black hats, and with shiny edged weapons, opulent gems, and precious metals for a book cover of heroic poses on dramatic, windswept volcanic mountain summits lit by golden sunbeams. Ostensibly, the title alludes to a mountain heart's lava flow as blood spilled -- and blood will be spilled!!! Melodrama.

I could not read further as an engaged reader.

Welcome to the whirlwind.

[ January 15, 2019, 06:48 AM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
Don't hang back, extrinsic. Tell us what you really think.

Phil.

PS. That's gotta hurt.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Demonstration of strong tone, though gimmicky, not intended to injure or outrage. Strong emotional tone expression all by its lonesome carries readers past a host of craft shortfalls, though craft strength ought show its hands, too.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Wow! All y'all are fantastic. You answered my exact questions without having voiced them.

My names come from a Gaelic x Norse background, and my own imagination, looking for something that doesn't seem like normal American or even medieval European flavor. Their names reflect who they are (Foxchild and Firehair).

As Extrinsic surmised, the mirror is important. This relationship brings the world into war until the "good" brother steps up and does what he always should have done.

The Blood of Karaborre is a working title. I have no idea what the actual story should be called, yet.

I can see why Scribophile just drove me nuts. No one had anything to teach me beyond what I was learning from other's poor prose. I still have much to learn, which is why I'm here. I've always loved school.

Perhaps I can decode some of this before the books arrive that you recommended. I just reread every one of the various books on writing that I've collected over the years. Most of them are old. What they haven't taught me, you've picked apart from my eleven posted lines of text. I'd post the additional two lines, but I'm not sure I'm ready to put my hand back in the fire just yet. I need to heal and ruminate a bit.

Cheers!
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
L. Rust Hills, Writing in General and the Short Story in Particular would be a deft selection, too, for writers' bookshelves. A descriptive text, two areas of craft within are worth the while: tension entrainment demystified and narrative typology of energetic, philosophic, and lyric. And other pertinent content. Hills implies how worthwhile narratives are satire of moral aptitude. Energetic realizes a moral truth discovery, and philosophic asserts a moral law. No thank you for me on the philosophic by itself. Lyric, of course, is musical prose.

Another text that is more advanced craft description is Seymour Chatman, Story and Discourse. Rare that a narratology text's title defines what the overall and focal topic is.

Other descriptive narratology texts -- that is, not proscriptive nor prescriptive how-to manuals -- cited or paraphrased here at Hatrack include our host Orson Scott Card's several, Characters and Viewpoint, How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, and Complete Guide to Writing Science Fiction: Volume One First Contact. Damon Knight's Creating Short Fiction, Gustav Freytag's Technique of the Drama, also tension a focal topic, and The Poetics of Aristotle. Though Aristotle's overall topic is causation movement, the text also relates how moral aptitude functions for a narrative, especially classic tragedy. Each is its way applicable to prose craft overall, irrespective of short or long, genre category, tragedy, comedy, tragicomedy, bildungsroman's maturation tableaus, or fiction or creative nonfiction, etc.

My sense of literature's opus is all of it someway relates moral aptitude and the human condition and drama. Fantasy's origins track to the fable form, for example, and fable's sole function is moral aptitude instruction -- albeit moral law assertion entertainments. All worthwhile prose is satire, and which reveals human social vice and folly! A, or the, challenges for present-day writers, for readers' sakes, is well-disguised moral aptitude instruction that entertains, too.

When all is said and done, most all, or all, possible story lines have been done to death. Subversive moral aptitude discovery movement is the great narrative unifier and occasion for fresh, lively, vivid, lustrous drama. One reason why the "mirror brother" motif's promises and potentials stand out for me.

[ January 15, 2019, 05:21 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I’ve just finished another tour through Character and Viewpoint and How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy is on the top of the stack to review next. I feel like I’ve studied and practiced, but completely in a void. Short of returning to college, I needed some way to break out of the void and see what I can do to improve my average skills to the point where something might be saleable.

Since folks seem to think my race of elves/not elves is too boring and overdone, I've got another race I've been working on, the Okla. These are shapechanging, pseudo-native Americans that I'd thought to use at some point. Heck, my only other language skill besides English, French, and Dictionary, is Choctaw.

I'll put in another bit of study and see if I can stumble through a better opening that doesn't have so many folks reaching for the blue pencil. Help me to see what all I can do with my mirror brother (antagonist/protagonist) team while I work to flesh it out into the story I envision. Give me skills before my brain explodes from my one, fresh story idea.

I'm ordering books tonight, as libraries and this area of the Blue Ridge do not cohabitate well, so I can expand my reading curriculum. Anyone have any other recommendations?
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
If you want the best I've found, take a look at Dwight Swain's, Techniques of the Selling Writer.

For a kind of overview that will have you wondering why you didn't see it for yourself, pay a few dollars for the audio: Dwight Swain, Master Writing Teacher, on Amazon. They're two, hour long boil-downs of his day-long lectures on writing fiction, and character development.

They're worth the money for the asides on editors and writing, in general. And, killing people with a doorknob.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Killing people with a doorknob. The worst I've done is stuck a hay hook through an idiot's back. He survived it, I think. It's been a long time since I wrote that vignette.

Thanks, I'll add it to the list!
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Elves that are done to death elsewhere is less of a consideration than how they're freshly imagined. Consider what role they represent for fantasy and fable overall and what they represent otherwise for the novel.

Mischievous fairies, right? Back when, elves and fey folk were thought responsible for the blemishes on animals, vegetables, and minerals, and for changeling children, who bore little resemblance to a presumptive father. Uh, jumped the bundlers' board, the maypole dance, the cottage window, the pasture fence, the fortress walls, eh? A convenient fiction otherwise. Uh -- fey child, musta been switched from the manger!

If the mirror brothers are "fraternal twins," or identical, and of little semblance to the presumptive blond father . . . Maybe the patriarch father's ginger brother, an uncle, cousin or nephew, sheriff, smith, warrior, or utter stranger . . . Even if all are elves . . .

[ January 15, 2019, 08:48 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I've never felt inspired by mischevious fairies. The only reason I've got pseudo elves at all is because I made an ancient race of people (the alfer) which were magical because I was using their half-legible scrolls and other juicy tidbits. Then I toyed with frame ideas---maybe they're better left in the past. The mirror twins, however, came from that line of what ifs so I don't think it was too horrendous a road to travel.

On the other hand, those things that not only go bump in the night but which also come through your door and rip your world apart (all in the name of law and order) are the things which bother me. Power for the sake of power, society's view of genetic anomalies, what people who grow up with nearly unlimited power do differently than folks who grow up with little to no real power; those are story ideas which haunt me.

I need to go back to the things I do best and see if I can figure out how to get a unique storyline from the glimpses and images in my head. I have ideas churning and notes made, How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy lies open on the desk in front of me. I have some work to do.

[ January 15, 2019, 09:57 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
Another good resource is this website.
Good, accessible resource on story structure, character arcs, theme, etc.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Regardless of whether elves or whatever fantasy or other motif, if the milieu's magic abilities express satire about wealth and power social inequity, clear and strong though deep covert subtext, I'd be hopelessly engaged.

Two brothers at odds? A Cain and Abel allegory, I'm sure. Or, left for dead by his elder siblings, Joseph went into Egypt, and the Israelites followed him into bondage until Moses.

And any number of Aesop's Fables, Grimms' Fairy Tales, or Hans Christian Anderson Folk Rounds about brothers.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Spoiler Alert: My thoughts on very basic plotting for this story. Please tell me where I'm being too expected, too ordinary and boring.

I'd thought to use the alfer as a long-lived race with magical abilities. One brother (Fire) is corrupted in his moral compass with all of the power problems that entails. He's got a special weakness for virgins of great families (princesses). He ends up siring children of rape and single-handedly infuses the royal houses of the entire continent (which I'd been calling Karaborre but I may need to rethink that name) with magical ability. This was the frame story because I dislike prologues without a purpose except for backstory.

This gave kings and queens something I call the gift of kings and the gift of queens. Among other things, this "proves" their divine right to rule. What I'm struggling with is further along in the story. I don't want to tell the rise to power of Fire and how Fox just goes along with everything he does and accepts the perks up to a point. I don't want to bore the reader with the creation of the dryw and their oaken bloodsticks (magic wielding soldiers).

I'm beginning to feel like I have a whole lot of milieu with very little real plot figured out. The story revolves around the mirror brothers and Fox's inability to step up while his brother just does anything and everything he wants (he actually rules with an iron fist much like Vlad Tepes who provided some inspiration for this tale).

My other milieu constructs (like the Okla) join forces with a child whose lineage was hidden away from Fire. She finally has the ability to break the reflection of the mirror brothers as she's the daughter/granddaughter of Fox and much further down the line she's descended from Fire. So she recombines everything that broke in her forebear's past. She's also, ostensibly, human to make her more relatable.

I think I need to do more to develop the mirror issue. Maybe it's more than a frame. Maybe she needs to actually face the two brothers and somehow rejoin them, defeat them? It won't pardon the crimes of action and the crimes of inaction imposed on the common man of "Karaborre" but it will prevent further injustices.

My milieu was also slated to include extra large versions of American animals such as bison, pronghorn, and extinct versions like the North American zebra. I also wanted to do something different with dragons (dracodyles) and unicorns (forest horses) which don't quite fit into the traditional concepts. I want to keep the whole symbolism of the two, but twisted.

I almost feel like I'm starting all over again as my writing is nowhere near good enough to keep up with my vision. I need a lot more story, sweat, and education than I expected, but I'm not willing to give up yet!
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
Ultimately, it's your story and you have to decide how to write it.

That said:

1) I think a "framing" story is only going to be confusing. Either tell the story of the brothers or don't. Frankly, if there's no conflict because Fox just goes along to get along, I'd say don't.

2) Decide who you're protagonist is. If it's the girl, then it's her story. Start a little before she either discovers who she is/what she can do or becomes aware of the problem posed by the mirror brothers. That's your inciting incident. You want to start a little before that to set up the milieu and character before the story really gets rolling.

3) That doesn't mean the girl has to be the only POV character. This sounds like epic fantasy, which can easily support multiple POV characters--just that she's likely the most important.

4) It sounds like the story problem is her resolving the problems caused by Fire, in particular and by the peculiar relationship between the brothers. (Sounds a little like Nissyen and Evnissyen from the Mabinogian to me. That's good.) The story problem is the heart of your plot.

Now, the next question is how you like to write. If you're a plotter (someone who likes to follow an outline) then do definitely check out that website I recommended above. A lot of info on story structure and the main points of the story. If you're more of a discovery writer, like me--still check out that website. It's helpful to have a handle on at least the main plot points you're aiming for even when you're winging it. [Big Grin]
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
A proverb from university creative writing programs might offer considerations for dramatic structure: Give a protagonist a potent want and strew problems in the way of its satisfaction. Or a potent problem that incites want. Or both at once. Wants and problems motivate proactive efforts to satisfy a focal want-problem.

Hyponyms for want-problem: motivation, antagonism, complication. Complication differs from conflict, in that antagonism's motivation forces are omnidirectional every which-a-way pushmi-pullya.

Also, conflict, what's at stake, stakes risked, polar opposite forces in contention, for examples, life and death, riches and rags, salvation and damnation, success and failure, acceptance and rejection, ad infinitum.

Third, tone, emotional-moral attitude toward a topic or subject overall and particular circumstances, like a protagonist's and a nemesis' or villain's and that those attitudes transform due to dramatic movement.

An action, too, is of several overt and covert forces, a tangible want, say, a ring of power or a material destination, of a tangible, material, concrete substance; and a moral forces contest, internal, of the self, or external, between a hero and a villain, or both, intangible, immaterial, abstract forces.

What's whoever's want-problems? Each agonist entails one internal-moral covert, perhaps implied, and one tangible and external, often overt. Fox is the hero; Fire, the villain? Fire's patent motivation is selfish vices: Greed, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, and Sloth, less so Wrath and Envy. So what does Fox want from the outset? Respect? Approval? Acceptance? Integrity? Honor? Then virtue: Charity, Abstinence, Chastity, Humility, Diligence, Patience, and Kindness. Etc.

Though heroes and villains and nemeses for best rounded character development are multidimensional, some vice, some virtue.

Dramatic movement and reader engagement start from complication introduction initiation. Why readers begin to care about an agonist and urge success or failure of a want-problem effort!

Movement from problem often is victimism, done to before proactive motivations incite efforts, generally a feminine mannerism, not female per se. A want up front incites proactivism from the get-go, generally masculine. Of notice that real-world victimism often is not, is self-caused problems and assigns external blame. Goofus often blames Gallant or any handy scapegoat for his mistakes and problems.

[ January 16, 2019, 02:58 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
Silkienne, I have a task for you; complete this sentence: This is a story about--

If you need more than one sentence, I'll allow you two.

The purpose is to focus your mind on who and what will be central to the story. But that's just the beginning; as you'll soon learn. And, your choices now are NOT set in stone. They are subject to change as you get a clearer idea of what your story is really about.

Just to clarify, there is no right answer to this question and, as you understand more and more about your own story, your answer will naturally change; getting both simpler and more complex at the same time.

Phil.

[ January 17, 2019, 05:54 AM: Message edited by: Grumpy old guy ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Phil,
I'm already at a point where the story has gotten both simpler and complex at the same time. I tried writing short stories for a while, but there really isn't a market for short fantasy and I get paid a lot more for articles anyway. So I need to learn how to write something more complex.

The way things stand now, I have two novel ideas within this particular milieu, but these things often grow as the story is told. I'll give you the first one, the mirror brothers.

Fire's mischief brought the dragon crown to life, but it's master (Sanzir) killed all they loved. Now they (the father, older brother and mirror twins who made the crown) vow to set things right but the cost is higher than anyone imagined.

Does that still count as two sentences? My problem is that I've never been able to pare it down to one, simple sentence.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
A peculiar phenomena of classics is some can be reduced to a one- or two-word description. Homer's Odyssey, "odyssey," Ernest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, "salao," means cursed, from slurred Spanish gerund past participle, salado, "salted." Joyce Carol Oate's Foxfire: Confessions of a Girl Gang, "foxfire," George Orwell's Animal Farm, allegory about Soviet socialism, though two words, and 1984, though the true term is two-word "big brother," Arthur Clarke's two words Childhood's End, to name a few.

A one- or two-word or so description of this novel might be at the proverbial tip of the tongue.

A rather subtle though profound observation about theme and subject from Laura Patten: "The point to remember is that a subject is not a theme: a subject is some dimension of the human condition examined by the work; a theme is a statement, direct or implied, about the subject." Or the moral and message that a theme expresses.

The human condition is the degree of moral aptitude of an explicit and focal type.

For example, generic subject: An Individual and Society, generic theme: "e. In spite of the pressure to be among people, an individual is essentially alone and frightened." (Laura Patten, http://files.udc.edu/docs/Common_Themes_in_Literature_Literary_Themes.pdf) A moral aptitude therein might be how the individual copes with or reacts to solitude and fear. Abreacts? Acts out antisocially. Utter selfishness? Nihilism's altogether refusal of morality?

"Crime doesn't pay" is often cited as a theme; however, that is a reader conclusion, rather than a message or moral. Topic, not a subject: crime; dramatic movement: selfishness due to alienation and fear. Subject: Alienation; theme: "c. Modern culture is defective because it doesn't provide group ties which in primitive cultures make alienation virtually impossible." (Patten)

A reason why few fantastic fiction markets accept and publish short fantasy is few fresh works rise to the occasion; too many entail cliché fantasy motifs and rely overmuch on already extant fantasy motif meaning substance. The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction publishes genuine fantasy occasionally, albeit much fantasy science fiction. Again, a metric is what a narrative uniquely expresses about the human condition, and fresh and innovative fantasy motifs, even if extant, like elves. The other fantastic fiction markets, likewise.

The thus far descriptions of this novel's design suggest a brother-to-brother contest between wickedness and nobleness. That could be an extended metaphor, allegory for human duality between good and evil. A proverb from which might be Monsters are always with us, within ourselves and at large.

If the mirror brothers are such, one could be a witless dupe of the other's evil, at first. Victimized by the other brother from the same mother and mister, he bears the wickedness punishment brunt. Oh ho! No. he realizes, his to choose or refuse. Then he becomes proactive, sheds his childish, slothful ways. This, of course, is a coming of age adulthood initiation and apprenticeship, maturation narrative, or bildungsroman, hence, the wicked brother is the elder by whatever minuscule time of birth difference. Or for a natural reason otherwise the younger is the delinquent of the two. That twins' personalities differ due to order of birth is a sublime verisimilitude feature, too.

Bidungsroman's tacit features entail maturation gains at the expense of proportionate losses, tragicomedy, often loss of youthful innocence, tangible losses and gains, too, though other noble sacrifice losses for common good as well. In other words, both private (internal) and public (external) personal loss costs. Say, surrender of a wanted public status marked by he realizes he does not possess the aptitudes for a fortified holdstead leadership, or has lost the right to it and abdicates in favor of a responsible candidate.

Of note though off topic, Vikings invented torified wood. Wood that is heat treated to stabilize it against common variable atmospheric humidity's expansion and contraction movement. A possible allegory motif for a dependent minion made self-reliant and stable by the forces against which the brother-to-brother contest unfolds. Such is symbolism and its relationship to theme.

Silkienne Dvora:
"My problem is that I've never been able to pare it down to one, simple sentence."

Might that be due to too much and as yet unorganized subject, theme, and content? And events, settings, and characters. Conflate!

[ January 17, 2019, 04:53 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
quote:
The thus far descriptions of this novel's design suggest a brother-to-brother contest between wickedness and nobleness. That could be an extended metaphor, allegory for human duality between good and evil. A proverb from which might be Monsters are always with us, within ourselves and at large.
This is, of course, what I envisioned when I thought about expanding my frame into a novel. The story is there. I want to put the pressure of society and all of that on the good son as they see him as the only way to mitigate the bad son's behavior because they have a bond beyond the normal brotherly bond. This is also why I wanted to use the dracodyle/forest horse as a parallel to the brothers.

I've set aside the book I'd spent all last year on, which was a coming of age of the girl I thought could repair the "broken mirror" and fix the world. I just couldn't really imagine that the good brother was all that good if he couldn't step up and I kept thinking this wasn't her story to tell... and the frame kept drawing me back until it was less frame and more story.

I still have far to go. I haven't fleshed out these brothers nearly enough for a full tale. I know I don't want a boring quasy medieval backdrop because I want everything bigger than life.

Y'all are teaching me so much! Thank you again for your wisdom and willingness to knock a little dust out from between my ears.

[ January 17, 2019, 05:02 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
An apocryphal anecdote from publication culture is that a novel writer's apprenticeship spans three novels before one rises to the occasion. That, and ten years' determined efforts, and one million practice prose words. Exceptions abound.

"Larger than life" means like life though of sublime and profound life influence other than life's ordinary strife and satisfaction routines.

A Middle Ages milieu instead of Medieval Europe need not be historically authentic or even situated to extant Western civilization.

Alternate histories, for example, ask what if, say, Rome never conquered Greece. Carthage had conquered Rome. Rome never conquered Egypt. Maybe that the Norse had occupied Europe instead of the Goths. Or for a Gaelic and fantasy flair, the Dannu, De Danna, a mythic western Germanic tribe of giants, supposed descended from Troy, that migrated into Ireland, had persevered against Pict, Nemedian, Firbolg, Anglo, Saxon, Gaul, Roman, and Norse predations.

Or what if Padraic never went to Ireland and drove out the serpent dragon Druid culture? One dragon culture empire stands when Christianity swept away all else. Beowulf's allegory is the Western Christian conquest of dragon cultures. Greek antiquity mythology also entails quashes of dragon culture. What if some dragon culture prevailed somewhere?

Not actual dragons, per se, more so serpent spirit magic beliefs. African Igboo, for example, believed great anaconda shook the Earth. Not Merlin and sundry Arthurian legends, either, per se, which are dragon culture conquest beliefs, too. Not anti-dragon culture propaganda that lent a hand to the demise of the ancient ways, rather a dragon culture that prevails against the industrious Germanic onslaught.

[ January 17, 2019, 05:37 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Well then, I must be nearly there as I sent my first manuscript to a publishing house when I was eleven. I think it must have been in crayon, with illustrations.

This will be my third determined attempt at a novel and more than ten years of determined efforts although the time frame was fractured by a few bouts of real life intruding on my writing obsession. I keep learning, and I've come far, but I'm not a pantser and never will be. I've never thought to count the words of my practice prose. I may have a few hundred thousand more to write because most of what I write is not fiction.

My larger than life thought had to do with too many tv shows rolling in the background. Music distracts me, television doesn't. But, the Ancient Aliens show had an episode where the dinosaurs were the original inhabitants of the planet. It made me wonder what if the much larger animal life was normal, dragons and the like. What if a unicorn was huge too? What if a dragon started life as a crocodile and only gained magic by ingesting it, by eating a unicorn's horn? What if Man were relatively small compared with the animals (both domestic and feral) of the world? He'd need more than just his opposable thumbs in order to survive.

My thought is to make central North America as the seat of the rise of Man. What things would change and why? While we wouldn't have seen the various wars and some of the cultures, we would have had some culture and society. How could I make it different? What if Man came from a different race than the Native Americans? What if there was an older class of people, dying out, killed off by Sanzir until only two remained?

I had thought to have people actively hunt unicorns to make dragons because of the power involved. But, it also takes a unicorn to kill a dragon, to cancel the magic. So now we have those who worship the power of the beast who destroys, and those who worship the power of the beast who creates change. Each of my mirror twins represents one of these divisions, as a parallel, but I don't intend to make it obvious to the people in the story.

On the other side, I have this "army" of folks who impale people for the magic in their blood using magic wands/bloodsticks. I like the idea of having a group of people who are outside the rules of society and can cause strife and terror, but I haven't actually thought much about how to use them in the story except they are at the beck and call of the bad mirror brother. I feel like they have something important and will show the average man what it takes to make magic. I see a sea of impaled people for some sort of ritual magic, perhaps a part of bringing dracodyles into being full sized, flying dragons.

[ January 17, 2019, 07:50 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
A good shot, Silkienne, but wide of the mark. No teddy bear for you, today. This--
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne:

Fire's mischief brought the dragon crown to life, but it's master (Sanzir) killed all they loved. Now they (the father, older brother and mirror twins who made the crown) vow to set things right but the cost is higher than anyone imagined.

is a truncated synopsis of a plot; not quite what I asked for. The plot is what happened, why it happened is what the story is actually about. Here’s the thing, the ‘why’ will change over time as your story moves from its inception, through its development and on to a final daft. The sad reality is a writer may never be able to satisfactorily answer the question until years after the book has been published. The best we can hope for is to know the answer some time before we’ve finished our own book.

And here’s a warning sign: If you can’t begin to articulate, even at the most basic level, what your story is about, then you aren’t ready to write it yet.

In my opinion your head is too full of ideas and possibilities at the moment for you to focus on the what and the why; let alone the who. I seriously suggest you start hacking off interesting ideas and concepts and start trying to bash what looks like a growing monster into the shape of a single story.

Two quotes for you to consider:
quote:
Written by Aristotle ~ 350BC:

Now, according to our definition Tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete, and whole, and of a certain magnitude; for there may be a whole that is wanting in magnitude. A whole is that which has a beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which does not itself follow anything by causal necessity, but after which something naturally is or comes to be. An end, on the contrary, is that which itself naturally follows some other thing, either by necessity, or as a rule, but has nothing following it. A middle is that which follows something as some other thing follows it. A well constructed plot, therefore, must neither begin nor end at haphazard, but conform to these principles.

And, continuing:

As therefore, in the other imitative arts, the imitation is one when the object imitated is one, so the plot, being an imitation of an action, must imitate one action and that a whole, the structural union of the parts being such that, if any one of them is displaced or removed, the whole will be disjointed and disturbed. For a thing whose presence or absence makes no visible difference, is not an organic part of the whole.

I leave it to you to work out what these sage pieces of advice mean.

Hope this helps somewhat.

Phil.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Oh, so it's a trick question if I can't answer it satisfactorily until years after the story has been published. But I do see what you're getting at.

You're right, of course. I'm still trying to wiggle this story concept and all of the various possibilities until I see my path. It's there somewhere, and I can almost see it. So, I suppose it's time to put it down for a while and pick it up later and see if anything has jelled. Maybe if I can pen a couple of short pieces in the milieu, and not try so hard to force things, I can find the single story thread amongst all of this fabric.
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
Even if you can't find a market for short stories right now, they may be a good way to help you understand your creation/world/universe.
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury:
Even if you can't find a market for short stories right now, they may be a good way to help you understand your creation/world/universe.

Worst case scenario:

You indie publish the short stories or put them up on a blog or website. Or someday use them as a reader magnet. Consider it platform building.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Part why a writer might not know what a story is about or otherwise believe a narrative is about a different scenario than readers, other than the usual, missed the page disease, is the opposite: smart subconscious plants. The subconscious puts itself into a creation. Also, part of writer growth is developed management of the subconscious' mischief, and the nonconscious'.

Or from The Last Samurai motion picture, said to Nathan Algren, "Too many minds." Writer confidence builds from be of one mind. A notorious and infamous example of missed subconscious plants is Upton Sinclair's The Jungle -- aimed for people's social consciousness minds and viscerally struck them in the stomachs.

"Smart subconscious. Term used when a critic (or the author) reviews text in light of a new approach or theory and discovers, much to his or her surprise, that within the previous text are a whole series of small items or details which help express this approach or theory; the smart subconscious was planting them in hopes that they would eventually be discovered. Smart subconscious is a possible explanation for subtext. (CSFW: Paul Tumey)" ("Being a Glossary of Terms Useful in Critiquing Science Fiction," edited by Clarion workshops' David Smith, SFWA hosted.)

On the other hand, Maud Casey advises against symbol hunts and plants, "It's a Wooden Leg First: Paying Narrative Attention to the Literal Story" (January 2008)
"About her story 'Good Country People,' in which a Bible salesman steals a woman’s leg, Flannery O’Connor wrote, 'If you want to say that the wooden leg is a symbol, you can say that. But it is a wooden leg first.' Similarly, Maud Casey warns against symbol-hunting and symbol-planting; she argues, instead, for the resonant power of lavishing attention on the literal level, and turns for examples to O’Connor’s story as well as to fiction by James Baldwin, Tim O’Brien, Deborah Eisenberg and Chris Abani." (Warren Wilson MFA writers' program, Fiction Digital Lectures)

The O'Connor story's subtext is about emotional crutches; the wooden leg is a physical crutch. When the Bible salesman steals it . . . Hulga's self-pity is exposed to her.

Such is subtext, motif, symbol, emblem, and of a moral aptitude mien that altogether lend larger than life substance to otherwise everyday scenarios and unify a whole.

Brother-to-brother sibling rivalry is such a scenario, albeit wrapped in a fantasy epic. Our host Orson Scott Card believes in birth order establishes a natural consequence, and from Irish sept lore, too: first born, natural born leader; second born, natural diplomat or warrior; third born, natural cleric . . . fiction: seventh born of a seventh born, seven generations, natural mystic, the Alvin Maker cycle.

A first scene about sibling rivalry could show the contention already in progress to a point that Fox has had enough of Fire's mischief and sore usage of him. Near the end, as near the outcome end as practical.

Shakespeare, Hamlet, Prince Hamlet's loss of his heritage is due to sibling rivalry between King Hamlet and Claudius, though of five acts, each apropos of a drama structure, the play is about the outcome end, an ultimas res end, at the end of things, rather than an ab ovo, from the egg, or in medias res, into the middle of things, is the denouement act of a drawn-out sibling rivalry court intrigue. Denouement: "1 : the final outcome of a main dramatic complication in a literary work 2 : the outcome of a complex sequence of events" (Webster's).

[ January 18, 2019, 08:06 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
The exercise was not a joke. It is based on the assumption that if you know what your story is really about you will be able to finish the sentence, “My story’s about--.” But that isn’t the goal. The goal is to truly understand what your own story is about so you can write a better one.

In the case of a short story of mine, I wrote it about the satisfaction to be experienced by watching your enemy realise you had destroyed them, someone they had despised and tormented, and had considered useless. Phew! That’s a long sentence.

The point is, when I finished writing it there was something unsatisfying about the end of the story. There was a niggle at the back of my brain saying to me, “It’s not finished yet.” So, in a desperate bid to find out why I felt that way, I asked myself this question, “What’s this story really about?”

The answer was surprising. After creating what I call a Causality Map I realised the story I had written wasn’t about the satisfaction to be had through revenge, it was about learning how to love.

Huh?

Yep, and that changed everything. It didn’t affect the first half of the story, except for a few minor alterations in tone and mood. What it did change was the end. Drastically.

It went from my protagonist standing over her enemy’s bleeding-out, soon-to-be corpse, smiling, to her hurting him in a worse manner; showing pity for him because she knew he would never learn how to love, while she had. The end was the same, she defeated her enemy, but the revised ending was so much more satisfying to me as a writer. It tied it all together in one neat package.

The point of all this? It’s that knowing what your story is really about and being able to say it in a single sentence provides you with a single, unifying narrative overview which colours and influences every character, every narrative choice and every twist and turn of your plot. It provides the framework for true unity of action throughout your story.

I know, I ramble a bit sometimes.

Phil.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I realize the exercise was not a joke. It's what I've been struggling with for over a year now. Every time I think I understand it, it evolves and changes. Then I feel lost again. And the truth is, when I'm lost, I have no ability to complete the tale---although others might have that capacity.

I've never understood how anyone can Nanowrimo and put down 50,000 words on a cohesive tale in one month. I've tried and failed on multiple occasions. Even when I've put down the requisite word count, it's backstory and world building and I'm just beginning at the end of all of that to understand what my story is about, and what I've written is never a novel. It's usually somewhere between a short story and a novella and feels forced to me.

There have been plenty of times where I've thought I'm not a storyteller, except I've written short stories that have been published (one opposite Ben Bova which delighted me). They come on a wave of inspiration and are complete in an afternoon. But they are somewhere around 2,000 words which I can hold in my head all at once.

If I can do that, then I can learn to do much more and get these stupid visions and storylines under control. At least when I pen them, they stop haunting me until another comes to replace it. I expect others are plagued by stories the way I am. Giving up is not an option so I must learn and do better.

I've envisioned the end of the story, where the "weaker" mirror, Foxchild, stands before his brother who has been deposed and beaten and then admitting the brotherly bond that entwines them. I don't know how to finish it though, because the brother I call Fire is the dragon and the dragon is in him and he can't be allowed any freedom. I'm afraid, in that last moment, the brother has to kill his mirror, kill the dragon as the two of them killed an actual dragon in the first act. And, just as that act changed them, killing his own brother changes the mirror, makes him somewhere between the dragon and the unicorn parallels in the story. And allows him to choose between the two sides within him.

I think I'm beginning to understand. So, perhaps you were looking for something closer to this narrative overview.

Each of us must choose between the dragon (devil/hell) and unicorn (saint/heaven) who dwells within us.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Each of us must choose between the dragon (devil/hell) and unicorn (saint/heaven) who dwells within us.

That is a conclusory message predicated upon moral law assertions. A giveaway for those is the term "must," common to inapt "elevator pitches," inept "logline" part of query letters, and ninety-nine out of a hundred HarperCollins' used-to-be authonomy submission pitches.

Even //Fox duels between the dragon and the unicorn selves within him// is more apt, due to that is a personal contention (internal complication-conflict that implies likewise external contention), undecided, specific to Fox, and mysterious though inferable context and texture.

In most or all worthwhile narratives, the action of substance is a persuasive, personal moral truth discovery, not moral law assertion propaganda and hypocrisy.

Reader immersion aligns readers to the emotional-moral tone attitude of a narrative's moral truth discovery process. The moral truth discovery may transpire anytime in a post-climax scene, action fall part, or denouement. For example, say Fox realizes soon after the start that Fire must die for noble peace to reign in the realm. The action rise then is Fox's efforts to prove the lie of that realization. The climax middle dramatic turn would then be Fire proves the truth of Fox's realization.

The tragic turn is Fox realizes the truth yet is reluctant to end Fire. Action fall is Fox's confrontation with the inevitable; a hoped for less drastic action doubt remains in the wings and becomes less and less possible. At denouement, Fox realizes a pre-positioned alternative to Fire's death, equally permanent yet a convenient fiction that Fire yet lives, as, say, an oblivious, perptual unicorn foal with an extant touch of the dragon. Fox imposes the unicorn nature upon Fire, usurps Fire's natural right to free will, an ignoble and mortal trespass itself, though deemed necessary for the common good.

For maximum impact and full moral truth discovery realization, Fox, likewise, acknowledges his dragon self and, therefore, removes himself to a sanctuary hermitage to while out his life in solitary meditations and anonymous service to the common good, say, invents and manufactures wards against bloodsticks, which, while conclusive, leaves open further installments for the milieu. That is a self-imposed personal cost, Fox's ownership of his true nature. Those are the inevitable surprise dramatic turn types which delight readers, and tragically beautiful outcomes.

[ January 19, 2019, 05:58 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
You guys are going to make my head explode. You all seem to see so clearly things I struggle to find. Possible roads to take and routes to explore as I find the path I need to walk.

So, if the dragon/unicorn moral message is not my narrative overview, then I'm not there yet. I have much more planning and thought to put into this. I'll keep working on the short story within the milieu I began yesterday while letting my mind stew on the possibilities.

And then there is my favorite concept---heroes often fail.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Critique and narrative craft study lends we who seem knowledgeable about same a leg ahead on the sacred Poet's Journey, though not one iota's dot less struggle and challenge. Maybe we've developed a smidgen of craft wisdom enough to suspect something is off, missed, overwrought, forced, or rushed, and have a few alternatives at hand to adjust for whatever, however.

A less than stated facet of workshop critique is that critiquer accrues as much or more craft aptitude as a writer whose project is on the proverbial hot seat. There -- I speak from long, tall, and deep experience.

[ January 19, 2019, 06:11 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Thank you Sir Extrinsic. And thank you Phil (you aren't as grumpy as your name suggests), Meredith, and our humble administrator, Kathleen. I don't want to leave out Warren or Jay. I feel like I've learned so much in a few days, far more than simply cramming my head full of published how-to bits.

I feel like I have a direction, and y'all are my compass. I want you to know how thankful I feel that you've taken the time out of your lives and schedules to teach me a bit. The reference material you suggested I read hasn't even arrived yet, those that I managed to procure for my old-fashioned library, and I've just finished Mr. Card's How to Write SF&F (alas, my old 1990 edition).

I made the right move coming here. I don't know who you all are, but I am indebted to your tutelage.

Shall I open a new topic as I'm ready to proceed further, or with a short story from this milieu, or should I keep posting here where it almost feels like home?
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
quote:
Fire's mischief brought the dragon crown to life, but it's master (Sanzir) killed all they loved. Now they (the father, older brother and mirror twins who made the crown) vow to set things right but the cost is higher than anyone imagined.
As has already been pointed out, this isn't what the story is about, it's a plot synopsis. What it's about can be summed up as:

Be careful what you wish for.
Growing up.
Finding peace, love, completion, etc.

There's another exercise that will tell you where you stand, which is to talk about the story in two short paragraphs, one declarative and the second a question. For example:

One lonely Christmas eve in space, Zack rescued an alien pretending to be Santa. Now, with the help of that alien's daughter, Tika, Zack must face what appears to be an alien fleet bent on destroying mankind.

Will he and Tika, along with mankind's space forces, and with the help of a computer named Barbara, be up to the task?


If you can't reduce your story to that it's probably a chronicle, not a story.

Every story has a plot, and you seem focused on the events of that plot, but the plot isn't the purpose or the focus of the story. The page by page writing, as the protagonist's options narrow and tension rises toward the climax, is what matters.

Unless you know what the story is about, all you can do is follow the protagonist with a notebook and chronicle what happens. And that's not a story.

Your reader has been enjoying professionally written and edited fiction since they entered school. They had it read to them before that.

My point is that your reader expects your story to flow in the way they're used to. But...if you aren't certain of how a scene on the page differs from one on screen, and know the elements that make it up, can you write one that will make an acquiring editor smile? Based on the sample, it would appear that you're not aware of the three issues that need to be addressed on entering a scene, and of the function of the short-term scene-goal. But unless you take them into account—unless you know why the scene should end in disaster for the protagonist—and what that means—how can you write a scene?

I mean no insult, and I'm certainly not trying to discourage, but given that you're trying to practice a profession on a professional level, it would seem wise to invest some time, and a few coins on your professional education—especially, given that the local library can do so much, and cost so little.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I'm more concerned with getting this story out of my head and doing it right, than being a professional. But I'm glad you believe I'm trying to practice on a professional level. Maybe someday, right now, I'm here because I want to learn. I wanted feedback on what I'm doing, and I didn't find the advice of the unwashed masses to be a satisfactory part of my education. I was floundering between the folks who loved everything I've written and those who knew something was wrong but couldn't tell me what. Heck, I knew something was wrong.

I'm doing my best to acquire and read the books suggested so that I can learn more. The library, for the time being, is out of the question. Once I have the retrolisthesis of C3 on C4 repaired next month (which they still schedule as elective surgery), I will be able to drive to some of the larger libraries in the next state and see if they have anything of value. I know my local libraries are basic high school libraries because I've visited them and have far more than they do in the writing references section.

Until then, I'll sit at the computer for as long as I can hold my head up each day. I may never be the best storyteller out there, and I'm okay with that. I want to find this story and tell it creditably.

Both times you've posted, you pointed out that I've got a chronicle rather than a story. I recognize that. Within the chronicle, I feel there is at least one story to tell, maybe a couple more. I appreciate your input and your vast experience with published work, but please try to point me in a direction before you apply the whip.

I'm not the natural storyteller you are. I was a C student in English, until that last year in college, despite a desire to write. I sold my first nonfiction piece by accident---what I thought was an angry letter from a reader came out as a complete article.

The Writer's Digest Novel Writing individual study course was less amazing than I'd have hoped for the money. I'm beyond the average local writer's conference, and not nearly ready for pitch sessions. I'm looking for something more SF&F specific and at my level of need.

While there is still desire, sight, and breath, I will pursue my goal. If I didn't know how much I had to learn, that gulf between where I am and where I want to be, I would not be here trying to learn from the experience of others.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Shall I open a new topic as I'm ready to proceed further, or with a short story from this milieu, or should I keep posting here where it almost feels like home?

New thirteen lines start for the same novel, add to the original post, otherwise, a new thread; new short story, post thirteen lines to "Fragments and Feedback for Short Works"; general writing topics, questions, asks for elaboration about same, personal observations or revelations from study about same, post to "Open Discussions About Writing."

Of note that writing topics studied, realized, and reduced to writing for peer discussion builds craft aptitude, too.

A basic writing study template is read, study, and respond: craft texts and test bench narratives that demonstrate how other writers manage the mischiefs of the former, and practiced application thereafter. Though how-tos prescribe and proscribe technique, and are valid for as yet beginner creative writing self-instruction, descriptive texts are far more useful to the intermediate and advanced creative writer, like Writing Fantasy & Science Fiction.

Also of note, per Meredith, prose writing is a marathon, not a sprint. Time and effort expended to receive and realize the fullness of such texts may span multiple reads, days, months, years, and each build appreciation for another. Prose craft discussion is a conversation at least as old as Aristotle.

Look to interlibrary loan circulation of craft texts through local libraries if available. No library near me does that anymore. Used to. I'd used that to preview texts for acquisition consideration, then purchased what stood out, that and online free sources. Such texts published prior to 1925 are public domain and somewhere available free, Project Gutenberg and the Internet Archive, for examples, maybe Google Books and Amazon's Look Inside feature for sample previews of post 1924 texts.

Edgar Allan Poe's texts are archived at the Poe memorial society site, and George Orwell's and Henry James' at their likewise society sites. Plus, though at times far off the mark, perhaps Wikipedia related craft topic essays, say, "Dramatic Structure," about as lame as those come, Freytag's pyramid misinterpreted, for one, though a raw nugget or two of insight.

If you're comfortable with Card's texts, a next same level text is Damon Knight's Creating Short Fiction, likewise descriptive, and an increment more advanced: a sample therefrom: "Plot" (Web Archive hosted). Here's a gamut of summary index topics: "Plots and Story Structures" (Gunn Center for the Study of Science Fiction).

You're welcome for this and above on everyone's behalf. My reason, and others' perhaps, for this is selfish, that is, for my own craft aptitude advancement. Thank you for some flesh and bones upon which I may feast.

[ January 19, 2019, 10:23 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
I've never understood how anyone can Nanowrimo and put down 50,000 words on a cohesive tale in one month. I've tried and failed on multiple occasions. Even when I've put down the requisite word count, it's backstory and world building and I'm just beginning at the end of all of that to understand what my story is about, and what I've written is never a novel. It's usually somewhere between a short story and a novella and feels forced to me.

I suspect that for some people that is exactly what Nanowrimo is and it works for them because then they have something written down that they can work with.

A first draft is rarely just the way you want it, and it may very well feel forced.
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
Silkienne Dvora, if you ever read Ursula K LeGuin's A WIZARD OF EARTHSEA, you may remember how it was resolved, when Ged finally faced his Shadow.

Fire could very well be Fox's shadow (Jungian archetype), and rather than make a destructive choice and thereby descending to the level of Fire, Fox may be able to make an inclusive choice and combine with his mirror instead of get rid of it. And that combining may bring the wholeness that both of them are missing.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
My mom left me some 200 leather-bound classics in one of her book of the month club collections. None had been opened. I've been through most of them, though not all. I find that just because it's a classic doesn't mean I like the book. The big plus is that I've read a good number of books that folks use in their craft texts.

The downside is that I didn't spend all that time reading the up to the moment, best SF&F available. I understand romance far better than I ever thought possible considering I detest helpless females.

I can't, at this point in my life, return to school for a Masters in creative writing, I want to do the next best thing. Shorter courses, online instruction, Scribophile.com, all of that. I've done some research on dramatic structure, the Hero's Journey, and even Freytag's pyramid. I've never thought of it as a pyramid, more like a right triangle because I've been told to wrap things up quickly after we hit the climax. In fact, it was one of my nights of arguing with my browser that I started looking for writing workshops that might help me that I stumbled upon this site.

Don't get me wrong, I still want to attend some sort of writer's education situation. I'd love to get to Clarion or a similar SF&F school at some point if I can afford it. I figure things will move along if I keep working at it. I'm not sure my writing is at a point where I'd get accepted to something like Clarion, so I've a ways to go.

If I can throw you a bone here and there, that's fine, glad I can be of service. I believe in sharing what I have.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Much of writing culture believes a climax peak is near the end of a narrative. Freytag shows that a climax part of a dramatic structure peaks midway, when all is known about a want-problem and stakes-at-risk crisis, except the outcome, when efforts to satisfy the crisis and risks are greatest, when outcome doubt is greatest, and when forces of opposition in contention are greatest, both complication and conflict forces.

Thus, Freytag and Aristotle, Poe and James, too, imply though not in detail the essential third dimension of antagonal complication motivation and stakes risked conflict. I perceive the three dimensions as a stair-stepped tetrahedron that teeters on one edge, the Causation x axis. Tension is the y axis, complication-conflict the Antagonism z axis. The view from the right and left of the erect "Freytag" pyramid faces are inverted pyramids, or equilateral triangle faces. The top edge represents climax and is a broad, distinct edge.

What many actually mean by climax, aside from other social and personal phenomena, is reader emotional state peak, which trails dramatic movement and its climax peak, and is related to tension and reader effect. Much of post climax emotional movement persistence is due to readers' stronger urges and anticipations for apt, yet kept in doubt until the outcome, complication-conflict satisfaction outcomes.

National University offers an online MFA creative writing degree, fully accredited, not a typical self-accredited online university sham and scam, all-online courses by one or a few two-month modules per course at a time rather than equivalent nine-credit hour per week semesters' sixteen weeks, some summer courses offered, completion in as few as sixteen months, full Federal Student Aid eligible, somewhat less expensive than most in-person and low residency programs and every bit as comprehensive. One drawback is no teaching assistantships or fellowships available for online students. National's creative writing MFA overview.

Total estimated tuition, books, and fees cost is about $22,000. Full FSA loan amount for master's students now is about $28,000 per year, total lifetime graduate study $65,000 aggregated, includes life expenses aid. Not a program for the faint of heart, nor any guarantee of publication success. An admissions requirement is a bachelor's degree in a creative writing-related field, which many boiler-room online universities do not require.

[ January 20, 2019, 11:33 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
First, we learn by critiquing. So, happy to throw in my 2c worth.

Silkienne Dvora, it seems to me you have a fairly well developed milieu (world) and a grand sweep of a plot. What seems to be missing, at least to me, is the human element.

At the end of the day a story is about people: their wants, their needs, their dreams and their fears. In fact, everything that makes each of us human and allows us to relate to each other. This ‘thing’ some call the human condition is what allows us to communicate our story to readers in a manner they can relate to because they feel the same things as your characters do.

For demonstration purposes only, let me show you one option of many I see in the plot you’ve enunciated. We have two brothers in contention--eventually. One brother is driven to dominate and control, the other, well he hardly seems worthwhile bothering about. At least for a large proportion of the plot you’ve outlined; he just sits on his backside and allows his brother to wreak mayhem on all and sundry. Isn’t he squirming inside as his brother lays waste to the world? Now, there’s a story to tell. One of internal conflict, self-discovery and eventual growth. That’s if he has the spine for it. Of course nowhere in this example do I say where or when someone might start such a story.

My last piece of advice is to stop looking at the ‘big picture’ and start looking at people; their fears, desires, wants etc.. Even, dare I suggest it, their moral framework and fortitude. There are a multitude of possible stories in your world, you just need to find one that moves your heart.

Phil.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
This may end up being shorter, but at least I see this story. I think it will at least be of novella length which is probably where I should be working at the moment. Anyway, some of the same basic characters, but I think a better point of view and a little more characterization in the beginning. I write every day and I won't bother to show you the short story I wrote this week. I've learned and even I can see it's not very good.

Still, it's only thirteen lines (I hope I counted correctly), so here we go:

Putting the crown on the prince’s head wasn’t something Foxchild wanted to do, but he’d promised his father to complete the task.

“I am the king.” Sanzir sneered, “Get on your knees before me.”

“You are not the king yet, Prince Sanzir.” Foxchild took in a lungful of air, as much to steady his voice as to calm his anger. He ran his fingers along the line between the prince’s head and the edge of the crown, feeling for spaces and pinches.

Removing the crown from the prince’s brow, he set it once more into the heat, this time in a hearth in the kingdom of men. The crown only needed a small adjustment, so it lay against Sanzir’s head as if it were part of him---as if it were made for him. Which it had been. Rather than using the hammer and the strength of the forge in his arm, he pulled on heavy bison-hide gloves and bent the hot metal with his hands.

[ January 20, 2019, 09:21 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
An individual and government or a god.

The scene is a routine chronicle, an in-scene history report of static drama though physical movement.

For strongest dramatic and reader effect, consider tension entrainment's three sequence segments, per L. Rust Hills, preparation, suspension, and resolution. Per moi, tension setup, tension relief delay, and partial tension relief, later, at the end, full tension relief.

Foxchild forges a crown to fit Sanzir's head. So what? (Why should I care?) One of our host Orson Scott Card's three questions readers ask. The other two, Oh yeah? (Really?) And Huh? (What the . . .)

Foxchild speaks up about Sanzir's impatience yet Sanzir doesn't show his rage at the upstart's correction? Oh yeah?

What does the crown look like? Gold? Or what? The forge and hearth? Does Sanzir sit a throne while Foxchild fits the crown? Huh?

If Foxchild contends with Sanzir, and showed reluctance, resistance, or refusal, that then is an occasion for contention, a conversation, so to speak, and occasion for tension entrainment, a setup, that delays relief, that the present inevitable relief is Foxchild obeys Sanzir's unconditional demands.

That, too, intimates, foreshadows that, soon or late, Foxchild would rebel, though he yet knows it not, an extended tension setup that leads to extended delay and relief, eventual full relief some way or another. That is a dramatic destination that an outset sets up, promises through complication-conflict and multidimensional tension entrainment development at a start.

Tension entrainment spans throughout a narrative, from phrase or clause syntax units to sentences to paragraphs to sections to chapters to parcels to a whole, even to sequel books -- is multidimensional merger and synthesis.

As is, I would not read further as an engaged reader.

[ January 20, 2019, 11:00 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Okay, so I'm almost there but still must go further to capture your interest. I.ve written the conflict between them where Foxchild just accepts the abuse because he thinks he is supposed to do so. I need to raise the stakes, although there are conflict and expectation within that first segment it's not quite fast enough into the action to make the reader care absolutely.

You definitely make my brain hurt, but I figure it's like working out, no pain, no gain. I'm only about 5k words into this story, so I can give it an edit and see if I can pull out any more conflict and character.

Thanks, Extrinsic.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Sanzir's rage toward Foxchild's correction is a pivot insertion point occasion to show Foxchild's unconditional obedience is at an end (problem antagonism) and occasion to show stakes at risk (conflict) for it.

The impudence of Foxchild! His spirit to the dracodyle! Call out the bloodstick priests! Maybe similar said in jest though meant for real and Foxchild full well knows it. Now is the opportune occasion when he realizes his witlessness is ripe for transformation. Merge those facets, Sanzir's appearance, and the forge scene setting details together rather than separate blocks?
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
quote:
Within the chronicle, I feel there is at least one story to tell, maybe a couple more.
Who cares if you have a thousand stories there. Plot is the easiest part of writing. Any writer can spark off story ideas faster then you can write them down. In fact, there are only seven basic plots.

How many times each year do you think Cinderella is republished: A deserving and talented person is prevented from achieving success by circumstances beyond their control. Then, a kindly outsider steps in and gives them the break they deserve and they achieve success. Hell, most of the Star Wars plots feature that.

Romance accounts for more then half of what's sold. Every damn one of them adheres to: Boy meets girl. Things go badly till they go well...the end. Yet read them and though the plot progression matches, they're not the same.

I used to give my clients a challenge: Write a 1000 word first person story in which two people are at a place where food and drink are served. During conversation, one of the people bets that the other will not ask a third person, near them, for a kiss. The idea was to kick the story up and back till they ironed out the problems I saw in their writing, in general.

I gave them latitude to play with it, so far as gender and the result of the interchange, but in the end, they were all the same story. Yet not one of them read like another because it's how it's written not the plot that makes one story a pleasure to read and another a dud.

If you're not familiar with the progression of scenes, and the structure of them on the page, how does spewing the plot events help? Why not spend the same time building your knowledge of how to write for the page?

Since you have a problem with getting the books, and perhaps even spending the time with it, here's a shortcut:

Pick up the audio files I mentioned for, Dwight Swain, Master Writing Teacher. No reading involved, and you don't have to leave the house to get them. Just lean back and listen, then think about what was said. They're $6 American on Amazon. Two hours invested in listening will give you a good idea of the areas you need to look into, and I'm betting, set you on fire to write, because he expands the possibilities for developing plot and character dramatically.

quote:
I'm not the natural storyteller you are.
You have to be kidding. You have no way of knowing that, until you become an on-the-page storyteller. There is no such thing as natural talent for writing. Talent is only potential, and there is no difference between an untalented untrained writer and an untrained talented one. Neither of them have a clue.

You didn't do well in school? Hell, I left school at seventeen because I flunked tenth grade. I know you can do better then that. I woke up a few years later, but I spent my adult life as an engineer, and the only writing I did was tech-writing, till I was a scoutmaster and began recording my campfire stories.

And my writing sucked. I made the mistakes we all make because no one tells us that we're taught only nonfiction writing skills in school.

If I have any abilities today they were built bit by bit over years, in good part because with no Internet, and no money for classes (or knowledge that they would help), there was no one to tell me that I was making all the expected new writer errors. So from 1985 until AOL, and others, came online, I spent my time getting better and better at writing crap.

I know you can beat that. Anyone can.

Here's what you face: Your current writing skills have been practiced and used to the point where they feel intuitive, and, automatic. But they're nonfiction skills. You, the author, tell the reader what you visualize happening. That's knowledge, not entertainment. And because those are the skills you own they're the ones you use. You can rewrite the opening a thousand times. But since you're using the same set of skills it will always read like someone we can neither see nor hear explaining the story events. Look at the latest opening line:
quote:
Putting the crown on the prince’s head wasn’t something Foxchild wanted to do, but he’d promised his father to complete the task.
Someone not in the story, or on the scene, tells me something meaningless about two people I know nothing about. Who are we? Dunno. When/where does this take place? Unclear. What's going on? Not a clue.

In fact, as presented, the opening line seems to be a coronation, not the fitting of a crown, because you place effect before cause. The crown is on the head for unknown purpose before we even know where we are. Why not have the man check the crown first, decide it's ready for fitting, and motion for the prince to come closer so he can test-fit it. Do that and the reader knows where they are and why. They have a hint of what our protagonist does for a living.

Right now, you're thinking cinematically, and telling the reader what's happening, visually, within the scene. But wouldn't it make more sense to know who we are as a person, first? Your reader seeks to live the scene, not know the progression of events. They want to be made to care. They want to know what the protagonist's immediate goal is, and why the protagonist believes it necessary. In other words, screw what's happening...what does the protagonist believe is happening. What matters to that character in the moment of time he calls "now," and why? Without that, you're just moving peaces around on a board and talking about people you've not made the reader care about.

In the second paragraph the prince orders the protagonist to his knees. Why? The man is a servant, and working on fitting the crown, so it seems to make no sense to make him kneel just to make him kneel. And our protagonist doesn't in any way, react to the order, other then to refuse the order. What did he think of it? Can't tell. Why did he tell the prince to screw off? Didn't he take into account that when he does wear the crown he can order him killed? Wouldn't you? He might, but given that we don't know his reasoning we can't know him. And, the prince ignores his disobedience. Again, would you, were you him? How can the Foxchild be our avatar if we don't know what motivates him to act, or what he believes motivtes those he interacts with?

I know it's a lot more fun to write than to study. But unless you own the necessary tools, and know what they can do for you, you can't use them—or even know you should.

You have the desire, the need, the enthusiasm, and everything but the tricks of the trade. And right now, you're stuck because of the medical conditions. Will there ever be a better time to relax and dig into the nuts and bolts of writing fiction?
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:

Putting the crown on the prince’s head wasn’t something Foxchild wanted to do, but he’d promised his father to complete the task.

The immediate picture drawn by "putting the crown on the prince's head" is a coronation. But a couple of paragraphs later it turns out they're at a forge and this is some kind of fitting. Don't make the reader reimagine the setting. Make it clear from the start.

This is still telling. My suggestion would be to get in deeper to Foxchild's POV. Show me his internal conflict between what he'd promised and what he thinks is the right choice. Show some internal and (perhaps suppressed) external signs of his emotions. (If you're unsure how to do that, I suggest Ackerman and Puglisi, THE EMOTION THESAURUS. In fact, there are several books in that series you might find helpful.) Also use his internal thoughts to communicate this information rather than the narrator's telling it. How much does his promise to his father weigh on him and why? What makes him think this might not be a good idea so that he doesn't want to do it? And what choices does he think he has?

quote:
“I am the king.” Sanzir sneered, “Get on your knees before me.”

“You are not the king yet, Prince Sanzir.” Foxchild took in a lungful of air, as much to steady his voice as to calm his anger. He ran his fingers along the line between the prince’s head and the edge of the crown, feeling for spaces and pinches.

Since this is Foxchild's POV, this is the perfect time to get in a description of Sanzir--the details that would be important to Foxchild at this moment. Is this prince a cocky teenager? A grown man who'd demonstrated his overweening pride before?

Foxchild's reaction is far too mild. The deep, steadying breath is good, but it needs more. Internal thoughts could give the reader more insight into Foxchild's doubts about doing this. More physical reaction to this statement, even if--perhaps especially if--Foxchild dare not show it outwardly would enhance the conflict.

quote:
Removing the crown from the prince’s brow, he set it once more into the heat, this time in a hearth in the kingdom of men. The crown only needed a small adjustment, so it lay against Sanzir’s head as if it were part of him---as if it were made for him. Which it had been. Rather than using the hammer and the strength of the forge in his arm, he pulled on heavy bison-hide gloves and bent the hot metal with his hands.
I'm having a hard time picturing the "strength of the forge in his arm." That line stops me cold.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Thank you Jay. I've been told before that my writing was very cinematic. I didn't feel it was a compliment, though others told me it was. Now I understand why.

So I'm still withholding too much information from the first thirteen lines. Perhaps it would be better told as the alfer envoy makes the formal presentation and Foxchild is forced to put the crown on the king's head. A more poignant moment, but it's the human king receiving the crown from Foxchild and his seething at the rules he's bowed to all of his life that I want to show/tell/convey (all those words are inadequate and seem to be wrapped in my problem).

Thirty years as a nonfiction writer seems to be my biggest problem, not my greatest asset. I see the story, but I'm not weeping and tortured by it as I have been in the past for my published fiction. Does that mean the story is not enough to matter, or that I'm not yet close enough to Foxchild to care? I thought it meant the opioids were helping the pain and I was past the brain fog.

I'm hoping my copy of "Techniques of the Selling Writer" comes in another day or so. I'm ready for the next text.

I'm not sure what I'm doing is relaxing and digging into the nuts and bolts. I'm putting in the time, experimenting with what I've learned and have sworn off nonfiction for a couple of months. I may need to extend that deadline, but we'll see if this old dog can still learn.

The best gift y'all have given me is a mirror. I can see my efforts through your eyes. Extrinsic thinks like a typical SF&F reader, immediately looking at all of the possible meanings build into a simple paragraph---more than I'd imagined. You've written and published so many novels that prose and storycrafting are part of you, as much as being an engineer and a scoutmaster.

Now, I will no longer nod and believe I comprehend these texts when a parallel of nonfiction comes to mind. It's like the difference in the structure of a horse and a cow. Those two animals have done all of the same things for us through history (riding, driving, milking, meat), but not in the same way. They are no more the same animal than nonfiction and fiction are alike. I see I have a very long way to go to change my modus operendi. Even my analogy is nonfiction.

[ January 21, 2019, 02:21 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Narrative point of view mechanics are grammar principles and global for all composition: grammatical person, tense, grammatical mood, subjective opinion and objective fact axis, degree of expression sophistication, and tone's attitude.

Prose separates from nonfiction at viewpoint and narrator personas, degree of access to personas' thoughts, personalness, and aesthetic functions. A viewpoint persona may or may not be a prose narrator. Nonfiction's narrator is always the writer, always overtly impersonal, always detached to remote distance, never overtly accesses others' thoughts (psychic access). Prose may be as detached a narrator as nonfiction, though present-day readers favor a degree of closer narrative distance between narrator and viewpoint persona, from remote to middle to close to danger close distance.

Narrative distance is the degree of separation between a narrator's and a viewpoint persona's perspectives, sensations, thoughts. Dave King's essay "Decoding Narrative Distance" offers insight, though contains a few misperceptions.

A third-person narrator, past tense, indicative mood, objective by default, omniscience limited to one persona, close narrative distance is the reader favored overall narrative point of view anymore. First-person narrator, present tense, indicative-subjunctive mood mesh, subjective by default, omniscience limited to the self, and by default close narrative distance is a close second. Each comes with similar and different challenges. First person's is often a lack of the first-person's character development. Third's is an all too often inconsistent viewpoint persona and narrator perception mishmash.

Third person and past tense entail strongest by default objective sensibilities. First person and present tense entail strongest by default subjective sensibilities.

Many believe third person cannot be as close a distance as first person, includes King. That is a misperception; "non-narrated" third person can be at least as close or closer.

The non-narrated third person absents the narrator altogether and is non-narrator, unfiltered received reflections portrayed from a viewpoint persona's insider perceptions. This is an insider looks, perceives, outward and inward narrative point of view and viewpoint synthesis. Cinema and stage cannot do that; even with the many gimmicks innovated to simulate insider looks outward and inward, viewers and hearers nonetheless receive actors' externally.

Breakdown from the latest version's first sentence:

"Putting the crown on the prince’s head wasn’t something Foxchild wanted to do, but he’d promised his father to complete the task."

Third-person, mixed present progressive, past progressive, past infinitive, past perfect, and future infinitive tenses, indicative mood, subjective tone, limited omniscient psychic access, remote to middle distance outsider narrator to insider thoughts, narrative point of view. Where's the simple tense predicate anchor? Simple past? Simple present? Albeit a remote distance stream-of-consciousness expression, perhaps of Foxchild's, though heavily narrator filtered.

Narrator filters, perceives and summarizes and explains and reports Foxchild's shallow thoughts direct to readers, from a remote distance, closer than detached at least. Writer tells Foxchild what to think, Foxchild tells narrator, narrator tells writer to tell readers. Too many filters!

If instead, a setting detail, an external perception of Foxchild's somewhat introduced the scene and he, the distance might close somewhat. Deep, immediate at first, and close access is a challenge to many readers. Gentled up to is broadly preferred. Exceptions abound.

The crown must be cooled to set upon Sanzir's head, right? From where does Foxchild take it up? A workbench? A royal pillow on a scullery side table? The foundry? The throne room? Sanzir's bed chamber? A dungeon? Etc. What is Sanzir's posture? Does he stand or sit? What does he sit on? A crude stool? A royal bench? Is Sanzir even already in wherever? And seated? Or does he bulldoze in wherever and impose his arch presence from the get-go? Etc. Who, when, where context and what, why, and how texture questions apt to ask so readers have timely, judicious answers.

An aural sensation might show Sanzir comes, somewhat characterize the setting's personality, say, brash echoes off a stone walled passageway and a distinct to Sanzir gait, hobnail boots' metallic scrapes, for example, a ta-ta-da, ta-ta-da, dah-dah tap dance pattern? That then is an occasion for an action, speech, thought, and/or emotion response to the sensory stimuli.

Or visual, or both, so long as in an economy of apt words, sets the scene and the stage setting, entrains tension setup, implies a contention about to unfold, and introduces Foxchild and Sanzir. From an insider's received reflections.

A tall order! Yet leisure attention lavished on the scene's sensory details, mental reception and reaction processes of those, and further responses, three steps, that is, affords occasion for dramatic movement initiation.

//Metal scrapes echoed from the cellar foundry stairway. Hobnails tapped the stone treads a brash pattern Foxchild loathed. His archness himself, Foxchild thought, Prince Sanzir came for the impatient usurper's crown test fit.//

The above dashed off the top of the head, no great prose to speak of, for illustration purposes. Anyway, my demonstrations are intended to be off kilter so as not to usurp writer creative vision ownership.

[ January 22, 2019, 04:10 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
So, I've been trying and failing to write a third person deep pov. I spent most of last year being bashed for any narrative exposition at all, but the only thing that remains is action and dialogue. Even Mr. Card states that SF&F specifically needs more narrative than other genres, so I need to find the balance.

Is that why my prose seems cinematic now? I've lost all ability to set scenes and paint the vast canvas?

While struggling to get the story on paper, I recognize the first sentence, first paragraph, first-page issue. If I bore my reader and can't spark even a modicum of interest, then they won't read the story no matter what happens after that first barrier. I've got to entice the reader past the first barrier while setting up the entire story. This isn't an idea story, but rather balances (I hope) milieu, event, and character. I used to think having milieu and event was enough, I was wrong. Without the character aspect, the other two don't really matter at all.

So, perhaps something more like:

Riding into Asherioth, the first thing that struck Foxchild was the smell. Men living too close together in their stone fortress with wooden buildings constructed against every wall and haphazardly snubbed against each other produced a stench beyond imagining. Hordes of people lined their path, stinking masses of unwashed peasants at first, then, as they climbed through each enceinte, the people showed more wealth, smelling less of sweat and toil and more of oils and herbs.

This is a description of what he sees with his own reaction to the place woven into the text. There's no action or dialogue, it's just exposition. Is it better to start with something more like this? I thought we had to start with some sort of immediate conflict, but here I've described the basic conflict at the heart of the story. The races are different, it brings them into strife and the mirror brothers handle this conflict differently.

I thought this was specifically what I wasn't supposed to do, yet y'all seem to be pointing in this direction. Or am I confused yet again?
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Note here that the main sentence subject is out of apt position for insider perceptions, plus unnecessary and trivial tense shifts, wordy, too:

"Riding into Asherioth, the first thing that struck Foxchild was the smell."

Still somewhat narrator filtered.

An apt syntax inversion uses fewer and stronger, more robust words, finite and definite, is more concise and firmer, easier to read and comprehend, and locates the self in apt sentence object position. Might imposed courtly social etiquette name the insider self last for closer personal distance, less narrator filtered!?

//Rode into Asherioth gates, the stench struck Foxchild first.//

Oh ho! Something more horrible next will strike Foxchild? A peasant's dung-dirty left hand? Soon enough, Sanzir strikes his dragon bite at the impudent peasant? Foxchild pities, empathy, sympathy for fear of the peasant's pain? A subtle and subversive foreshadow of events to soon come, dual and accessible meaning? Tension entrainment setup, dramatic movement from the outset, closer distance, less narrator filtered.

Consider "exposition" looked up in a dictionary, definitions 1 and 3 for prose, 2 for impersonal essay, please.

And seven -ing words in one paragraph of three sentences, two train-wreck run-ons? -ing ring rhyme disease and nuisance accumulated. The muse forbids me those except when otherwise impractical or impossible.

[ January 21, 2019, 08:49 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
That's more in Foxchild's point of view, so you are getting there.

You might consider asking yourself about Foxchild's pain with respect to what's happening.

extrinsic talks about the protagonist's "wants" and a major "want" is to stop the pain.

Pain can be a strong motivation and trying to do something about it can be a good place to start. What does Foxchild do about the "pain"?
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
All right, so the spur of the moment opening wasn't well written, I'm beginning to understand.

Of course, like most of us, Foxchild wants to stop the pain. Am I right to use the name he calls himself, rather than the name(s) others use for him? I think I read that somewhere.

I'll try and write better, even if that means editing my run-on sentences. I'm getting better, I used to have the "see spot run" disease. Somewhere in the middle, there will be correct sentence lengths and variations.

Thank you again for the help. I'm starting to recognize my specific problems. That's the first step to addressing them.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Am I right to use the name he calls himself, rather than the name(s) others use for him? I think I read that somewhere.

If apt for his thoughts, yes. A challenge, though, is multiple, unearned names for one persona confuses readers.

A secret spirit name is a Native Nations tradition. Pocahontas' spirit name was Matoaka, blue lake, for the dark purple color of her irises. She shared her spirit name with her anglo spouse John Rolfe, in token of her conversion to Christianity. Pocahontas was her public nickname and means little wanton, for the frisky play behavior that delighted her father wero-werowance Wahunsonacoke (head-head man of the True People nation, Powhatan). Her mother-given birth name was Amonute, untranslated.

Oral traditions say Powhatan's mother's nickname was Little Flower, probably for the Eastern Woodlands' Large Marsh-pink, Sabatia dodecandra. She was the nation's wero-werosquaw while her sons reigned, the other way around, actually. A head-head mother's sons in birth sequence became a nation's head-head men.

"Squaw," though much malice meant by it, means mother in Aglic cultures. A werosquaw is the head mother of a matrilineal kinship village.

[ January 21, 2019, 11:01 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Meredith (Member # 8368) on :
 
Yes, that last version gets deeper into Foxchild's POV. However, it also moves you further away from the conflict of the previous version. Just apply some of the same methods to the scene with the fitting of the crown. With more internal thoughts, and you'll be getting close, I think.
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
quote:
So I'm still withholding too much information from the first thirteen lines.
The reader isn't looking for information, background, history, weather, or opinion. They want you to begin your story with story. They want to know where they are in time and space. They want to know what's going on as the protagonist sees it. And, they want to know whose skin they wear. More to the point, they don't want to be told about it by a faceless, emotionless outsider.

Is it hot when the story opens? Does that matter to the flow of the story? Have them wipe their face as they're doing something necessary to the plot, the setting, or developing character, so the reader learns of it as enrichment to a necessary point. Use implication to involve the reader. Make them think they notice the byplay. Is the character nervous? Have her seem assured, but at the same time shred a napkin, or fidget. Show, don't tell. Or as Mark Twain put it, "Don't say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream."

Find every point where you, the narrator, explain anything, and ask yourself if the protagonist needs that information as part of their decision-making process in that moment of now. If not, that's not the place to dump in that data. If so, let the reader evaluate it as the protagonist does.

Readers aren't seeking to know. They want to be made to live the story as-the-protagonist. How can that character be our avatar if we don't know what that person is focused on in the moment they call now?

I know it's frustrating, and that every writing reflex you've spent so long honing is howling in outrage every time you try to write in a way they see as wrong. And I can tell you from experience, that changing over is one of the more difficult things you'll do, because in this, you may be your own worst enemy. But once you break through you'll wonder why it was hard. And when you get there your protagonist becomes your writing partner. Try to get her/him to do something they don't approve of and they will tell you, "Hell no, I won't do that, in no uncertain terms. And as your partner, they'll help you solve the protagonist's problems in ways you won't have anticipated, which is great fun when it happens. And because you'll be viewing events through the senses of the protagonist, and deciding on action based on his/her needs and imperatives, the act of writing becomes dramatically more fun.

I once write for thirty-four hours straight, with breaks only to use the bathroom and consume the food my wife put on the table after she shoved the keyboard aside (I adored that woman). Why? Because my protagonist had taken the bit between her teeth and was running the show. The lady I planed to be a a demure magazine writer turned ourt to be a brash, and irreverent lap dancer, who did everything she could to screw up my poor protagonist. I had no choice. I had not a clue of where she was going, or what she planned. Nor could I control the protagonist. So I had to find out what happened. And in the end, she did exactly what she should have done, and I loved her for it.

I love when that happens. And so will you.

And here's the thing. If you get a little closer every day, and you live long enough...
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
For 2c worth of nothing, the second attempt at a start was better than the first, with one exception: I was overloaded with sensory information I didn’t need. The place smelt bad and he was almost gagging. Okay, I got it. In the first attempt, instead of drowning in information, I didn’t know anything useful about anything in that room. It was a room, wasn’t it?

I suggest you take a step back from trying to manufacture a start and smell the roses for a bit. I spent nearly eighteen months considering how to start a story and I think I have a pretty good handle on it, At least I think I do.

The start of a story is the hardest part of writing, so why not leave it till the end? After all, you’re writing a first draft, not the final one. Just start anywhere and get the story rolling. Once you have you extensive outline and you know where your story is going and how it will end, tear the draft up and throw it in the bin. Whatever you do, don’t try and save it by re-writing; therein lies madness. Now, write a proper start. You’ll know where, and how, and in what manner it must be done by then.

And the story you end up writing as your real first draft won’t be anything like the one you just threw out. It will be so much better.

If you don’t believe that, and why should you, then try this: Ask yourself what the purpose of the opening scene is, then ask, what does the reader need to know in order to understand exactly what is going on in this scene? Once you decide all that, follow through and make it happen.

One last thing. Everyone who offers a critique has their own biases. I know most of them by now so, when I receive a critique for a start, I know what filters I need to apply. Just for the record, I’m partial to the quiet, invitational start; a bit ‘old school’ I know, but it works for me. Others prefer the ‘lets get some action happening’ school.

Phil.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
My "bias" is for outset emotional equilibrium upset foremost, for appeal's sake, irrespective of who, when, where, what, why, or how, so long as those attend and are leavened among the essence's lot, too. May be quiet, may be full bore all engines ahead full steam emotional upset. Slow or no emotional disequilibrium start, no thank you, please.
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
Such emotional equilibrium upset starts have their place, as do slower, more languid ones. In 'short-form' stories, introductions are, of necessity, brief and to the point. In longer forms, what's wrong with introductions and an invitation for the reader to join? Egad! Euphemisms abound!

The only mandatory criteria for a start is that it engage the reader. There are ways, and then there are ways to do that. Boring them with unnecessary drivel or sweeping visual descriptions of pastoral scenes is not one of them.

Phil.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Nell Zinc's Mislaid start is a vivid pastoral scene description several pages long, though not a slow or quiet dramatic movement start. The novel's tone is strong, clear, and emotional from the ab ovo introductions invitation outset. The title itself sets drama and tension in motion. Later events upset the physical pastoral setting's tranquility and stability, an idyllic synthetic lake agonists transform into a mud-bog swamp, like their lives.

Mislaid, indeed, includes the outset setting location is a mislaid place, pastoral, yes, commentary about pastoralism's sketchy and macabre skeletons and dirty laundry kept hidden in backroom and rural closets and faraway self-marooned enclaves. Engaged by emotional upset from the first word of the title and throughout, yes, though too cozy, more or less content ever after reintegration outcomes for the four-agonist ensemble cast.

Greater satisfaction end if the agonists each more so earned their lucky breaks and clear cues given they would encounter further though better managed self-sabotage mischief thereafter.

[ January 22, 2019, 04:13 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
Obviously this pastoral scene was lacking in drivel and was high on engagement. If we've done any study of prose at all we know what emotions engage reader attention and how they may be manipulated. But, a light hand, please.

Phil.
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
You don't have to write the beginning first, as Phil has said. You don't have to write any scenes in the story in the order in which they will be read.

If there is a scene that has really grabbed your brain and insists on being expressed, go ahead and write it. The excitement you have for it has a better chance of exciting readers than a forced beginning that you think you have to write first.

Once you've got that exciting scene written, write the next scene that grabs your brain.

As Phil has also said, it's a first draft. Get all the exciting scenes written and then figure out what you need to do to connect them. And do that as quickly and smoothly as you can. (Transitions are one place where you can "tell" instead of "show.")
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Grumpy old guy:
Obviously this pastoral scene was lacking in drivel and was high on engagement. If we've done any study of prose at all we know what emotions engage reader attention and how they may be manipulated. But, a light hand, please.

Phil.

The extended rhetoric of prose's drama wants judicious emotional persuasion's seductions rather than manipulation's assaults -- "a light hand," indeed.
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
quote:
Riding into Asherioth, the first thing that struck Foxchild was the smell. Men living too close together in their stone fortress with wooden buildings constructed against every wall and haphazardly snubbed against each other produced a stench beyond imagining. Hordes of people lined their path, stinking masses of unwashed peasants at first, then, as they climbed through each enceinte, the people showed more wealth, smelling less of sweat and toil and more of oils and herbs.
Better, but still, a nonfiction approach, focused on the visual. You, the narrator, are explaining what he saw, as a synopsis. But is he seeing “hoards of people,” and “Men living too close together in their stone fortress?” Not unless he has x-ray vision, because most of them are out of his line of sight. In reality, you’re using the fact that he arrives in the city as an excuse to do a bit of world-building. But the fact that he’s in it, but not of it, negates the value.

Think about it. I’m sure you’ve heard, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” If anything, it’s understated. But assume it’s right, can your seventy-six words give me even a tiny fraction of what a thousand will? Hell no. Making it worse, that thousand words provides only a still picture. In the paragraph above I’ve learned what can be seen, yes, but in far too general terms, and I don’t know how it relates to him and his mission, as he sees it. He’s getting the breeze from the town, but as described he’s noticing the differences in the way people smell. What’s he doing, getting down and sniffing them? Based on personal experience, any city where there are no sewers, and where every house has an outhouse, smells like crap from one end to the other. And you can smell that city from pretty far away.

But forget that. Think about something more important. In his experience, is this city unique? Probably not. So he might wrinkle his nose, but other than that he will not think about the causes of the smells, the structure of the town, etc. because he’s done it before. He might, if he’s given reason to because of changes. But for him, the trip through town is nothing special. And in reality, nothing of interest to a reader happens during the trip.

I understand what you’re trying to do. And, you write well. But you’re doing it as someone following him with a camera and recording the things that might impress a reader, while he’s ignoring all that and thinking, “I wonder if that bastard Stuttard will be there, sucking up to Eloshia and trying to poison his mind against me” (or something that’s meaningful to him).

My point is that this is a travelogue, not story, because he’s not in it as a participating character, only to give you a reason to expound on what matters to you. Story with a capital “S.” But story, with that lower case “s” is what matters to him, in the moment he calls now.

Try an experiment. Look at the sequence described in this article. Try writing the same story sequence using it as a template. It will feel awkward, because it’s a very different approach. In addition, because it is formulaic, that will make it feel unnatural. But think of it as learning the box step for ballroom dancing. Until it’s automatic you’re counting 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3… But once it has been practiced enough that you need not count, or think about it as you dance, you can embellish and expand, and, dance.

You’ll find that because you’re forced to think about what has his attention enough that he must react, he’s going to dictate his own behavior. So instead of ordering him to obey, if he’s resisting, you change the situation to make him want to do what you need done.

It’s a very different approach, because you can’t give an overview or explanation, which banishes you to the prompter’s booth. But that’s not a bad thing. And by doing it, the reader is placed into his viewpoint, as against that of an unknown, unheard, and unseen narrator. And in his viewpoint the future is uncertain, and, therefore, interesting.

Hope this clarifies. I know this is frustrating, and can be really discouraging. But you are getting better. And while you’re not at the head of the line, look behind you. That line is getting a lot longer.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Sorry I've been gone a bit, health issues. At least my Swain book arrived and I have been able to read.

Does this hit the head of better emotion, more empathy with my protagonist?


Gulping one last time, Foxchild squared his shoulders and looked his father in the eyes.

“Why aren’t you more like your brother?”

Like a fist in his gut, those words took his breath away. He’d done everything right, he’d taken insult with dignity, and he presented the crown to the new king. The precious metals and magic lay in a beautiful design on the human king’s brow.

“Nothing to say?” His father glowered. “Why weren’t you at the presentation?”

“I was! I fitted the crown and gifted it just as you instructed me.”

“No, your brother did that. Stop lying.”
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
My first reaction:

It's unclear which person is speaking, especially the first statement (partly because the sentence before it starts with Foxchild, which would imply that he is the one who speaks).

Also, if this is his one last gulp, why was Foxchild gulping before that? It feels as if we have come in on the tail end of a conversation.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
The latest fragment expresses more Pathos, though physical details are so few, if any, that the scene portrays a disembodied personas' conversation Event in a white-space vacuum.

Consider if Setting and more Character developments are essential to the scene's realization completeness, that is, dramatic (Antagonal, Causal, Tensional: ACT) physical Description that matters to the viewpoint persona's now moment; Sensation, Action, and Introspection, too, a timely, judicious, tension-entrainment organized, and dramatic synthesis of the several, for Ethos (authenticity [re: narrative authentication credibility]) and Logos (logic) appeals in addition to Pathos appeals.

DIANE'S SECRET prose composition modes for mutual Pathos, Ethos, and Logos appeals; preferred emphases bold emphasized: Description, Introspection, Action, Narration, Emotion, Sensation, Summarization, Exposition, Conversation, Recollection, Explanation, Transition.

(DIANE'S SECRET) SPICED ACT: Setting, Plot, Idea, Character, Event, Discourse; Antagonism, Causation, Tension.

For example, Description of the father's expressions and appearance, instead of a Summarization tell of the look at his eyes, show Sensation and characterize both personas, likewise, dramatic descriptions of Action and place.
----
Though perhaps somewhat difficult to appreciate, I have read and read so much prose that a start signals to me what to expect forward. Extensive prose craft study gave me a vocabulary to label strengths and shortfalls I had previously more so intuited than could describe, let alone adjust to greater appeal strengths for my own prose creation.

[ January 29, 2019, 08:31 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I'm struggling to try to get everything into the first thirteen lines, make it passionate and coherent as well as concise. I expand on things, that's not a problem, or, more appropriately, it's too much as well as not enough---just like my openings.

At least this scene, when I wrote it, felt passionate and intense. Now, I need to get it from my guts to the page. I'm still over thinking this.

If I add to the beginning, it feels like I'm telling again, trying to steal the scene from Foxchild. Maybe I should just write the book and not worry about doing a creditable job. This gets so frustrating.


Returning to the forest of Cymru, Foxchild would have a chance to tell his father all that occurred---the good and the bad before anyone else could. None of it had been his fault, he had not strayed from his duty. He dismounted, grabbed his saddlebags, and turned to look his father in the eyes.

“Why aren’t you more like your brother?” Father asked.

Like a fist in his gut, those words took Foxchild's breath away. He’d done everything right, he’d taken insult with dignity, and he presented the crown to the new king. The precious metals and magic lay in a beautiful design on the human king’s brow.

“Nothing to say?” His father glowered. “Why weren’t you at the presentation?”

“I was! I fitted the crown and gifted it just as you instructed me.”

“No, your brother did that. Stop lying.”

[ January 29, 2019, 09:27 PM: Message edited by: Silkienne Dvora ]
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
A formula that, for best effect, should ought not appear to readers formulaic is, from a viewpoint persona's perspective, one, a dramatic external sensation stimuli; two, a natural amount of "time" to dramatically and mentally process the sensation stimuli; and go, a natural, dramatic reaction-response to the sensation stimuli. One-two-go. Or go or one-go or one-two-three-go. "Go" means act dramatically, respond. This formula also somewhat parallels tension's setup, delay, relief entrainment.

Here: "Returning to the forest of Cymru"

If that's the aptest start clause, what does Foxchild sense about the forest that is dramatic and matters to the now moment and further along? Does Father wait among an ash grove for Foxchild? Does Foxchild seek Father? Is Father at an expected place? Is the meet place at a mythic meadow among a spruce grove? A busy city, village, or small settlement? Or is the meet place among or inside stone, clay, wood, grass, bamboo cottages or cabins, hide tents, or a cave or a mansion, etc?

A merger synthesis describes a gamut of "telling details," not telling in the sense of narration, summarization, or explanation, rather, concise descriptive details fraught with drama and subtext relevance and likewise enmeshed with dramatic action, speech, thought, and emotion details.

If the scene were drawn, sketched, painted, or photographed, how does it appear? What features draw Foxchild's eye and ear, or nose, touch, taste, thought, etc? Though in an economy of words.

Say Father is in a stone cottage nestled among, say, ancient moss-draped oaks. This is the home, of Father and Foxchild, maybe Firechild? Or only Father and his romantic partner? Or Father all by his lonesome?

Next, sketch a detailed description of Foxchild's first impression of what his senses perceive that is natural to him and his situation to it. Omit all except what matters and compasses the whole setting in one eye blink's time. Limit the content to maybe twelve or so words that express Foxchild's trepidation about a visitation with Father, and certain that it will be unpleasant and defensive.

Then sketch Father's likewise portrait, maybe that he waits at the entrance, perhaps weaves cloth or spins thread and sits on a bench at the door. Etc. They greet, albeit fraught with contention. Etc.

From "Being a Glossary of Terms Useful in Critiquing Science Fiction," edited by Clarion workshops' David Smith, SFWA hosted:

"Film it. A self-test of critiquing. To judge a scene or chapter, mentally convert it into a movie or screenplay. This effectively subtracts all narration and exposition and leaves only description, dialog, and action. Things which shrink dramatically when filmed are heavy on telling, light on showing. (CSFW: Steve Popkes)

"First-draft-itis. Various flaws which everyone, including the author, agrees immediately should be corrected. E.g.: a character who has blue eyes in Chapter 2 has brown eyes in Chapter 7; or an important feature of the society which is first manifested in Chapter 20 and implicitly contradicted in what was written before. See Retrofit."

"Retrofit. An editing term. To rewrite a previous chapter or scene for the purpose of making a later scene work better, by setting up something that is needed later, introducing a premise, situation or character so that its presence later in the story is justified. To revise a previous chapter or scene to conform details to what is necessary later in the story. (CSFW: David Smith)"

And the above accords but one of forty or so Damon Knight narrative points of view-viewpoints: Third-person, close, limited, past tense, subjective-objective mix, indicative mood, robust tone. Mileage varies accordingly.

The latest fragment, as is, and the gamut of them, is a detached third-person, past tense, indicative, neutral tone, objective narrator outsider looks in main narrative point of view, some inconsistent auxiliaries, and the viewpoint is of the narrator's perceptions. If a narrator is a, or the focal viewpoint persona, the narrator's attitude tone toward sensations for best effect is reactive commentary about stimuli.

[ January 29, 2019, 11:14 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
I'm struggling to try to get everything into the first thirteen lines, make it passionate and coherent as well as concise.

And just why, exactly, are you trying to get everything into the first thirteen lines? “Too many minds.” seems to be your problem. In addition, you’ve forgotten the most important thing you have to do in these first thirteen lines: engage my interest by making me care about what’s-his-name.

A son desperate for his father’s love and approval. Perfect! An opportunity to develop plot, character and invoke reader sympathy, if not outright pity, for Foxchild’s dilemma. It’s all sitting there waiting for emotional development.

And, what do we get? An “As you know, Bob . . .” moment where the writer uses dialogue, even a family argument, in a poor attempt to disguise an information dump. Too bad.

I would not read on.

Phil.
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Maybe I should just write the book and not worry about doing a creditable job.

Yes. Just write it, but do the best you can.

Continued attempts to get the first 13 lines right will certainly be frustrating, and not only because focusing on that is keeping you from getting on with the rest of the story.

Write it, and then work on it to make it more creditable (and credible, for that matter).

As for your recent fragment, it seems to me that the focus of your scene is Foxchild's report to his father and his father's accusation.

So maybe you could do something along the lines of what extrinsic suggests - give us Foxchild's father from Foxchild's point of view as Foxchild rides up to him and then dismounts. Then have Foxchild say to his father that he had presented the crown to the king (and so on). And then have his father accuse him of lying.

That way we get Foxchild's point of view and feelings as he approaches his father, and then we get a clear indication of the conflict. That's enough for 13 lines.
 
Posted by Jay Greenstein (Member # 10615) on :
 
quote:
I'm struggling to try to get everything into the first thirteen lines, make it passionate and coherent as well as concise.
Why? It’s the opening. Your goal is: To place the reader in time and space, which is also scene setting; Make the reader know what’s going on; Make the reader know whose skin we wear. These can be spaced out, and should be apparent, not explained—introduced as necessary to give context. Try to put too much into the first thirteen and you have a fruitcake. Relax. You have three pages in which to hook the reader, not thirteen lines. If you can hold their interest, and keep them reading…

As Sol Stein observed: “A novel is like a car—it won’t go anywhere until you turn on the engine. The “engine” of both fiction and nonfiction is the point at which the reader makes the decision not to put the book down. The engine should start in the first three pages, the closer to the top of page one the better.”

Obviously, what’s below isn’t the opening, so assuming the reader has the necessary context at this point:
quote:
“Why aren’t you more like your brother?” Father asked.
This is the motivation that has the protagonist’s attention, and will make him react. Nothing wrong here.
quote:
Like a fist in his gut, those words took Foxchild's breath away. He’d done everything right, he’d taken insult with dignity, and he presented the crown to the new king. The precious metals and magic lay in a beautiful design on the human king’s brow.
Here is the response to the motivation. And what he does, or in this case, doesn’t do will be his father’s motivation. Several comments:

• The reader knows the situation. So why label him as “new?” Only the author would see him as so here.

• Why say, “presented the crown to the new king.”? They both know who it was presented to, so he’d have no reason to mention who got it.

• In first person it would be “took my breath away.” The third person equivalent would be “took his breath away,” since the reader already knows his name, and that he's the protagonist, when not directed by antecedent it’s assumed you’re talking about the protagonist. He In his viewpoint he doesn't think of himself by name. Only the author does. So use his name when it's necessary for clarity, but if the reader truly has him as an avatar, they aren't thinking of him by name because it's theirs, too.

• If the reader is unaware, till now, of the rivalry with his brother, this would be a place to interject an emotional reaction to the remark (but not a soliloquy/info-dump) that would supply context. Perhaps a thought, in italics, something like, Again? For every stinking thing I do, you say that. But I’m me, not a reflection of him. And I presented that damn crown.

• If you didn’t use an interjection/thought, I’d trim it to: “He’d done everything right, taken insult with dignity, and presented the crown.” In his viewpoint he would never use “he” to describe himself. Keep in mind that though the narrator is telling the story in a specific tense, for the protagonist who’s living the scene, as for us in life, it’s always first person present tense.

• Would he, in his moment of now, think of what the crown is made of? Probably not. So if we’re in his viewpoint, anything you interject as an authorial interjection serves only to weaken POV. If the reader needs it, give him reason to tell his father that.


quote:
Nothing to say?” His father glowered. “Why weren’t you at the presentation?”
No problem here. His motivation is that his son said nothing, and he’s providing our protagonist with motivation to act.

quote:
“I was! I fitted the crown and gifted it just as you instructed me.”
In his viewpoint, since this comes as a surprise, why not show it with: “What?” Or, to add emotion, you might phrase it as:

What? I…” He spread his hands in surprise, as he said, “I was there. I presented the crown to—”

Done that way, we demonstrate his shock to show the intensity, and provide a more natural reaction. And having the father interrupt him demonstrates the intensity of his emotion.

Be careful of people lobbing dialog back and forth. Were someone to run into the room where you are and say, “I heard you won the lottery,” Would you simply reply, or would your instinctive reaction be to say “What?” and then wonder if you heard right…and then…and then…and finally say, something like, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

You’re leaving out steps in the M/RU

quote:
“No, your brother did that. Stop lying.”
Here, I’d have him react physically, to add reality. Perhaps pull his head back like a snapping turtle before shaking his head and saying… And as a personal thing, I’d reverse the two sentences here, since the idea that he’s lying is of more importance to the father.

But everything else aside, this is vastly improved.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Another thought, that is, doubt, confusion, and frustration are signs of progress and a natural, congruent opposite part of creative expression, at the least a newfound sense all is not as ideal as wanted. The magic moment of epiphany follows, as daylight follows the darkest darkness before dawn, is reward itself -- and sublime.

Also from the Glossary:

"Dare to be stupid. An exhortation by a critic to an author whom the critic thinks is not stretching enough. Authors grow by daring to write bolder, more imaginative, more personal, or more emotionally powerful situations and confrontations. Since writing that stretches is by definition unpracticed, the result may be rougher than a less ambitious effort. The author must trust the critics to recognize the stretch and help the author build or expand his talents. (CSFW: Steve Popkes)"

By the way, I post rare few fragments due to, one, to meet the Hatrack writers' focus group expectations demands a near finished draft start's best effort, all but ready for prime time, not for approval, that is, rather, for next in turn skilled eye sets upon a fragment for to test content and appeal and tacit want for constructive responses; and two, I won't post anywhere online my A material. Those two contradict each other!? A reconciliation fragment project is in the works.

My early fragment posts were rough and raw, and garnered numerous shortfall observations and few strength notices; respectively, what didn't work and what did for the focus group responders, yet motivated me to "stretch." Albeit, I knew not those were rough, and posted fragments' responses showed how raw those really were. Most essential aspects I learned, learn, are the wants for leisure attention lavished in an economy of words upon enmeshed, apt less-is-more, timely, judicious dramatic event, setting, character, description, sensation, emotion, action, introspection, conversation, antagonism, causation, and tension outset developments.

[ January 30, 2019, 08:10 PM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
Silkienne Dvora, please notice how much time, space, wordage, feedback, etc. you have been receiving on your story.

We would not spend this much time, etc. if we didn't think you were worth it. We wouldn't try to help if we didn't think our help would help.

Fiction writers have to worry about two main aspects to creating their stories. I call one of them wordsmithing and the other storytelling.

The wordsmithing part involves using words, punctuation, grammar, spelling, and other such tools to convey the story, though there is quite a bit more to it than that. It also involves things like imagery and poetry and description and characterization and how you use words to do that.

Please don't let frustration keep you from keeping on. You are learning and growing, and your wordsmithing didn't start from the bottom - you are articulate and coherent and interesting.

We are just trying to help you figure out the storytelling part and how to make it work with the wordsmithing part.
 
Posted by WarrenB (Member # 10927) on :
 
quote:
Originally posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury:
quote:
Originally posted by Silkienne Dvora:
Maybe I should just write the book and not worry about doing a creditable job.

Yes. Just write it, but do the best you can.

Continued attempts to get the first 13 lines right will certainly be frustrating, and not only because focusing on that is keeping you from getting on with the rest of the story.

Write it, and then work on it to make it more creditable (and credible, for that matter).


Amen to this! The start only matters if the work it introduces actually exists... Personally, I am beginning to suspect that the 'perfect start' is something you can only see from the perspective of the whole story/novel/essay/whatever. Feedback on a (possible) start can offer many valuable hints and warnings about what to work on in the whole, but after a certain point, continuing to focus on just the first-13 becomes self-defeating.

And holding out for universal (or even majority) approval on a forum that is critically-oriented is a recipe for getting stuck.

That said, I've been on this site for almost a year, and I'm still figuring out how best to use it as a support to my creative process. There's a fine line between getting useful criticism and integrating others' creative ideas, and losing the essence of what you were trying to make in the first place -- and that initial spark that made you want to make it.
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
And Amen to that, WarrenB.

Phil.
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
For many years workshop veteran me, workshop's function is more so writer self-critique and edit skills development than a given submission's development, part, parcel, whole, or fragment.

Writing program submission length rubric is about ten pages, or two thousand words. Many prose workshops accept excerpts of about that quantity from longer lengths, though short wholes is the overall preferred submission, so that a whole's completeness is a facet of focus group scrutiny and response: as it were, start, middle, and end appeal and craft.

I also consider a fully realized scene-length dramatic unit an ample sample of a whole of whatever length or a whole in itself. And microprose of "flash" length or shorter. How many words to complete a scene's full realization? Some novels, a one-word chapter fraught with pre-positioned context setup; some are book lengths, some may be a twelfth of total length, or an average chapter long, and a subchapter may itself be a scene, or a few hundred words.

A challenge is, the shorter a length, the more that stronger craft skills are wanted, why a two thousand-word short story, essay, script, or twelve-line poetry, are considered a compromise for workshops: enough real estate for full realization of a whole, not too much burden for focus group participants, not too great an onus to timely complete a draft creation, not too much to bear if dreck, and a robust writer and workshop apprenticeship length.

Anyway, Hatrack's thirteen lines posts, for me and mine, were an apprenticeship for what to avoid, like "As you know, Bob," or "Maid and Butler" dialogue, and unearned wake-up scenes, ad nauseam, and what to include, like motivations, stakes risked, and tone, crisis contentions of quiet apprehension or to an urgent degree, and events, settings, and characters, etc.

[ January 31, 2019, 05:23 AM: Message edited by: extrinsic ]
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
Thanks everyone! I have a really good idea of what I'm doing wrong, things I need to work on, and a story that is burning to be written. So, I'm going to disappear for a while, unless I drastically need the hive mind. I'll read posts here and there, but I will not be replying unless I feel I have something important to add that no one else has covered.

When I return, I'll either be completely stuck and miserable or, hopefully, have at least a first draft of my manuscript ready for the shredder and a complete rewrite!

I know I've only been focusing on the first 13 lines, but it is representative of the rest of the prose. I've learned a lot, it may be only the tip of the iceberg, but it's more than I had. Wish me luck.

Cheers!

Silk
 
Posted by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (Member # 59) on :
 
Best of luck to you.

Write on!
 
Posted by extrinsic (Member # 8019) on :
 
Now that the whirlwind has done its worst, may you realize its manifold prose applications!
 
Posted by Grumpy old guy (Member # 9922) on :
 
Best wishes and a bon voyage. And, in case you missed it, there is a forum called, "Open discussion about writing". You may want to consider posting there if you have a 'writing' issue you'd like to discuss.

Phil.

P.S. Don't forget Novel support group as well.
 
Posted by Silkienne Dvora (Member # 11090) on :
 
I want to thank all y'all for getting me focused and started. Between the books, the forum here, and the directed and hard-hitting advice on my own openings, you helped me to find a better voice with far less author intrusion. I can't say that I've stopped writing as a nonfiction essayist, but I'm working on what's going on within my protagonist and how he sees his world. I'm worrying far less about the landscape and the cinema of the scenes.

Here is my current opening, for what it's worth. I'm still struggling to count 13 lines, but here goes:

Why aren't you more like your brother? The question mired Foxchild’s mind, eroding his confidence and worrying him more with each step they took. When they arrived home, his father would ask, he always asked. His whole life boiled down to that one, simple question.

How far would he have to go to prove himself? Would people ever see him as separate from Scoria? His mirror, his twin, the one who shared his mother’s womb and his looks and absolutely nothing else. It was as if his heart beat on the wrong side of his chest just as he used the wrong hand for his sword and drew his bow backwards.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Scoria's horse skittering over shale and surging up the steep trail, his twin reining the sweaty animal next to his own sturdy beast.
 


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