posted
It's going to be around 6,000 words. I'd like some impressions on the first 13, and if there are any takers, crits for the whole piece when it's done. New version
quote: The deceased won’t mind if I tell you what happened, but others might hunt me if certain things are revealed about me, about the city and about her. She wandered around my block’s entrance, in the dead of night, a pale and slim figure against the sick yellow of the streetlights, barely holding on the darkness that shrouded the vagrant street from which I came. Between her jittering around the alleyway and home so close, relief settled in and I wanted to get closer to her. The thought that she turned tricks at the front of my entrance struck me, although I never saw her before. So I did. I walked straight ahead, not looking at her, just the two of us dwarfed by the apartment buildings, not a light switched on from the floors above,
Old version
quote:I can’t tell you the name of the city in which this happened, because they might go after me. But I can tell you that it started with her, wandering around my block’s entrance, in the dead of night, a pale and slim figure against the sick yellow of the streetlights, barely holding on the darkness that shrouded the vagrant street from which I came. Between her dancing around and home so close, relief settled in and I wanted to get closer to her. If I did, what would I say to her? She couldn’t be a hooker. I never saw her before. So I did. I walked straight ahead, not looking at her, just the two of us cramped in this cold cemented canyon, not a light switched on from the floors above, not a car horning its way through. She wore a red shirt bigger than her and right there it
[This message has been edited by Lionhunter (edited November 05, 2010).]
[This message has been edited by Lionhunter (edited November 05, 2010).]
posted
I'll agree with history on this. Continuing along those lines, I think it can be tightened a bit without losing the voice. Further example over History's:
But <I can tell you that >it started with her....
The symmetry of the start of the two opening sentences would be nice if the symmetrical parts were more substantial.
posted
It's the mystery of who she is that hooks me, you did a nice job describing her without giving away who or what she is. That said, I think the second sentence drags on a bit. You could cut it up a little and get more tension out of it I think. Something like: But it started with her. She wandered around my block's entrance in the dead of night. A pale, slim figure against the sick yellow of the streetlights.
I would love to read the whole thing when you're finished. I'm interested in who she is and if she's going to eat him
History: you're right, i could make it clearer with the right words that the life of the POV character is at stake if the story is traced back to him. I thought the expression i used was enough.
WouldBe: i'm not sure i'm following with your idea. I didn't think of a symmetry when writing that, just that the opening image had to be something in the line that the POV character doesn't want to reveal EVERYTHING about his whereabouts, and needed a connective "tissue" to start the story.
coralm: your advice is 100% valid, most pro writers out there recommend using shorter sentences, mostly because it's more difficult to track a longer one. The way i write this, the outline i used to make this story is also an outline for author/character voice, in which each sentence type (in this case, the external stimulus) has a specific pattern and clarity, which are the result of the specific traits of the character experiencing the story. While I'm taking a risk with this one, this is the first story in which i use this type of outline that i've created, and that means sticking to the pattern, unless clarity becomes a big issue. Even so, you are right in your advice. But i have to see if this works. Will send it to ya when it's done.
quote: The deceased won’t mind if I tell you what happened, but others might hunt me if certain things are revealed about me, about the city and about her. She wandered around my block’s entrance, in the dead of night, a pale and slim figure against the sick yellow of the streetlights, barely holding on the darkness that shrouded the vagrant street from which I came. Between her jittering around the alleyway and home so close, relief settled in and I wanted to get closer to her. The thought that she turned tricks at the front of my entrance struck me, although I never saw her before. So I did. I walked straight ahead, not looking at her, just the two of us dwarfed by the apartment buildings, not a light switched on from the floors above,
[This message has been edited by Lionhunter (edited November 05, 2010).]
[This message has been edited by Lionhunter (edited November 05, 2010).]
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