QueryTracker Community
December 16, 2018, 11:02:13 AM *
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
News:
 
   Home   Help Search Login Register  
Note: This forum uses different usernames and passwords than those of the main QueryTracker site. 
Please register if you want to post messages.

This forum is also accessible by the public (including search engines).
Pages: [1]   Go Down
  Print  
Author Topic: The Wizard and the Knightmare (YA Urban Fantasy)  (Read 6295 times)
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« on: June 16, 2016, 07:29:12 PM »

Chapter I: The Shattering

Springfield, Illinois
Sunday, August 27th

Frank Williams had read dozens of books about teenagers stopping evil beings and shattering distressing curses. But unlike the brave heroes in the stories, the only curse Frank encountered came in the form of an unjust bedtime.

“Do I really have to?” asked Frank. He gave his parents a sad puppy-dog face. “I’m fourteen now, too old for a bedtime.” He shivered a little, cold from the wooden steps seeping into the bottoms of his bare feet. “You’re still mad at me about yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Now you know that’s not true,” said his mother Carol. She gave him an inward smile which did little to quench his doubt. “We just wish you’d used … uh … less adult words.”

“And made the police get involved,” said Tom, his dad.

“Hey, I’m not the one who called them. I was too busy mooning the fat bi—”

“Shhh!” Tom put a finger to his lips. “Don’t wake up Naomi.”

“Oh please,” Frank grumbled. “With her new meds an earthquake couldn’t wake her.”

“Good night,” Carol said, her voice sharp and final. To drive the point home, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Night.” Frank tip-toed up the steps to prevent creaking.

“And no going to the roof to read,” Tom warned just as Frank turned down the T-shaped hallway.

Frank rolled his eyes. “I haven’t been up there since summer started. I didn’t have a bedtime then.”

The light to his room flipped on with the flick of a finger. He mapped a mental pathway around his clothes, books and video games to his bed. Books dominated his bookshelf and still more lined the top of his dresser, all of them fantasy, some young adult, others too-adult. And he read them all to his heart’s content, thank you very much.

Once Frank checked to make sure his sister slept peacefully, his hand guided the door shut part way. Another flip of the switch turned the light off, using tip-toes and small hops to guide his way under the covers. He grabbed one of his pillows, placing it between his arms, picturing a big dog to keep him company throughout the night. He couldn’t have a dog of his own – small yard. Why couldn’t they move to a new house?

It would take a cataclysm for Mom to move, Frank told himself, not for the first time. Muttering curses, he placed his glasses on his bedside table and tossed himself on his side.

For a long moment he replayed the scene from day before, his heart quickening at the tension of the memory. Still, he felt satisfied and even justified. Those feelings washed over him in warm rivulets, resulting in heavy eyelids Then he closed his eyes counted “sheep.” One dead knight, two dead knights …

But the Sand Man would have no time to lead Frank to Slumberland. Without warning, light from the hall illuminated his room, shining like daytime. Frank flipped back around, replacing his spectacles on his nose. Up he stood, peering into the light in his doorway.

“What the —? Mom?” No answer. “Dad?”

He navigated the room once more, returning to the doorway. Though the light came from the hall, what he saw through his door wasn’t the hallway. It wasn’t even his house.

His eyes gazed upon fluffy white clouds which formed the floor of a circular platform. Above, an arc of shimmering light acted as a transparent roof. Beyond that, dots in a black-blue horizon twinkled at him. Frank gasped at the image, his breath taken away. Pounding thundered in his chest. In every direction, stars upon stars upon trillions of stars. A pinch on the arm told him this wasn’t a dream. Was he dead? Was this Heaven?

In the center of the dome stood a fountain, shooting a single jet of water, over which hung an orange sphere: a hologram of the sun.
Frank stepped forward, because what else was he supposed to do? Run and hide? No way! His bare feet hit the clouds, and he made a groan of surprise at the solid, cool and springy sensation under his feet.

Other doorways like his own rectangle of darkness led into the dome. He watched in timid fascination as nine others walked into the dome, all of them teenagers. They looked around, matching his reaction to the not-so-subtle summons. All nine varied by races and body sizes, though Frank seemed to be the heaviest. His head spun. What the heck was going on?

Language formed another barrier, based on the mutterings from the teens Frank couldn’t understand. A young girl spoke what sounded like rapid French. A tan girl wearing gold and turquoise said something in what Frank couldn’t help but think was Ancient Egyptian. Because that was the logical conclusion. He was surprised he didn’t hear things like, “House, rock, waves, bird, hail Osiris.”

Finally, others spoke English, which felt like music to Frank’s ears. Tension in his shoulders eased a little.

“What am I doing here?” asked a male with a Southern twang and skin like milk chocolate.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” asked an ugly, lanky dude with thick black hair.

“Oh, one such truth I fear I mustn’t tell,” said another, shorter guy.

Frank shook his head, bringing himself back to reality ... whatever reality was just then.

“Who are you?” Frank asked as they all approached the fountain. He pointed to himself. “Frank. I—am—Frank.”

“You speak the King’s English?” asked a short teen in an old-fashioned blue and white striped nightshirt. A matching stocking cap rested atop his head, drooping down to the small of his back. “I am George Washington.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, his head feeling as high as the clouds on which he stood, “you said who now?”

“And I am Martin,” said the kid with the Southern accent.

Frank felt dumbfounded. What?

“Abraham,” said the lanky fellow with a craggy face.

The girl who spoke French pointed to herself, as did the others around them. “Jeanne.”

“Iskandar.”

“Cleopatra.”

“Before thee stands Elizabeth Tudor.”

“Ich bin Johannes.”

“Leonardo,” said the final, a blond male youth with an Italian accent.

“What is going on?” Frank asked no one in particular. “You … all of you, I know who you are!”

Alexander the Great, a king who conquered lands to make one of the greatest empires in history; Johannes Guttenburg, whose printing press revolutionized the written word, making mass printing possible; Joan of Arc, whose leadership in battle saved the French from the conquering English army — wasn’t she burned at the stake for claiming she talked to God? Maybe she meant this!

History’s finest had all shown up on this cloud, and he here was, a nobody, a fate ready to follow the hands of time.

Near the fountain, two beings rose, snowy wings flapping in fluid motion. Frank had to double-take once more, because these beings weren’t human.

Instead, their bodies resembled golden rings, like wedding rings, adorned with a dozen eyes on either side. Wings of white feathers radiated too pure to be anything terrestrial. The figures spun, looking around the dome as each approached from their own direction.

As one winged ring flew up above the fountain, hovering over the hologram of the sun, the other flew off, tearing away fast enough that a white-hot streak marked its wake. At that same time, a soft, female voice resonated in Frank’s head.

“You all must wonder where you are. I apologize for bringing you here in such an abrupt manner, but the need is urgent.”

“So tell us where we are.” Frank tried to keep panic from his voice. Of course it would crack, too. Thank you, puberty.

“And who are you?” asked Abraham.

“I am Sol, the leader of the Seraphim, servant to the Divine. The departed Seraphim is Amalthea, another servant. You are in the Dome of the Divine, our celestial hub. I have brought you here from your various places in time because … we need your help. I will address you all at once; you will hear me in your own language, the dialect of your time.”

Somehow, creases of worry formed around the eyes as Sol looked not at them, but at the world outside the dome, the whole of all creation. Its voice sounded sad with a just hint of terror.

“Our universe, the entire vast space that you see now, is in peril. Alexander, Leonardo, Joan, Abraham, Martin, George, Elizabeth, Cleopatra, Johannes, and Franklin,” the eyes all along Sol’s body fell on him, “you are all here because you are each destined for greatness in your own way. A being known as a ‘goddess’ has gone ... rogue.”

Sol moved from the fountain. The water lowered and the hologram changed, displaying a 3-D patch of cloud, upon which stood five entities. Figures shining red, silver, blue, and purple, encircled a lone being of metallic gold. Frank moved closer, starlight reflecting off his lenses.

From the shroud of gold illumination, a pair of human-like hands emerged, driving downward. As quick as lightning a colossal burst of energy, a sonic wave in all its ferocity, struck the surrounding four, who then jetted from the scene. Once the four vanished, a witch-like cackle made the hairs on the back of Frank’s neck stand on end.

Cleopatra said something in Egyptian, probably, “Ra, boat, house, rock, Anubis.”

Sol continued to speak in his head. “Cleopatra wants to know what she’s seeing, and why she should believe us. What you just saw is The Shattering of the Family. The Golden One, in an attempt to destroy the Siblings, has scattered them across the whole of space and time, trapping them in such a way we cannot find them. The choice to believe us or not is yours to make, but we must ask for your aid. Find the Siblings, and free them from their traps.”

“And where shall we find such places?” asked George. Frank couldn’t take his eyes off the teen.

The scene in the fountain’s water changed again. This time, Frank saw a mass of rock and gas swirling at a fixed point in outer space. The gas shimmered like a heat-driven mirage. Frank recognized this scene without being told.

“This is … the beginning of Earth,” he said. He looked around, the other’s as wide-eyed with astonishment as he felt.

“This is the result of the Golden One’s treachery. The same feat that shattered the Family has also created another planet – your Earth.” Its tone almost sounded as though it blamed them for the planet’s existence. “We know not where the Siblings are trapped. Other Seraphim search for them, but have found nothing. However, we believe one of them is there.” A wingtip pointed, indicating the twirling mass that would one day be their home. “All of you have the power to change the world, and for the better. We have faith that one of you will find the gods before it’s too late.”

Frank raised a hand. “What do you mean ‘too late’?”

Sol turned to him, its eyes narrowed. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost wished he hadn’t asked.

“I mean the Golden One also hunts for the Siblings with followers under her command. Either we find them before she does, or we face annihilation on a universal scale. I beg of you, please help us save the world, before no world exists to save.”

Frank wanted to ask more, but a force pulled him backwards before he had the chance. It dragged him back into the doorway through which he’d entered. Darkness entombed him. He reappeared not in his room, but at the top of the stairwell. He tried to catch himself, but the wooden steps loomed before him. Grasping nothing but air, he fell forward, his body crashing as he cascaded to the proceeding stair. The blur of white light and brown wood blended together. The carpet at the bottom caught him. His head felt split in two, and the world around him spun.

He raised a hand to his crown. When he drew it back, blood coated his fingers. A nearby door opened, and just as Tom and Carol ran to him, the world spun harder. Finally, he took one deep breath, and blacked out.
Logged
Pandean
Hero Member
*****

Karma: 474
Offline Offline

Posts: 8692


Panic in human form


« Reply #1 on: June 21, 2016, 07:24:50 PM »

From reading through this I didn't encounter many problems other than the fact that this sounds a lot more like MG than it does YA.
Logged

WHITE STAG, an internet phenomenon, has been acquired by St. Martin's Press/Wednesday Books for publication in Winter 2019
JaeDarcy
Jr. Member
**

Karma: 6
Offline Offline

Posts: 38



« Reply #2 on: June 23, 2016, 08:20:08 PM »

Hi there!

This is fairly smooth, but I would look to your dialogue. It doesn't feel quite natural to me in many places and you're sneaking exposition in in a way that pulls it off track (e.g. "With her new meds an earthquake couldn’t wake her")  Maybe read it aloud and see if you agree.
Logged
TigerAsh
Hero Member
*****

Karma: 48
Offline Offline

Posts: 271



« Reply #3 on: June 24, 2016, 05:03:43 PM »

I pretty much agree with what's already been said.

I could see this being comfortably pitched as an upper middle grade; but of course that would depend on a lot of other factors that we may not get from this first chapter alone.

There were some points when the dialogue didn't seem as natural as it could have been. I agree that reading it out loud would probably help you pick and choose where you can tweak it.

I also just wanted to say that I like your description; it kept me engaged.

Hope this helps!  Smiley
Logged
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #4 on: June 25, 2016, 03:01:45 PM »

Hi everyone!

I just wanted to give you a quick thank you for taking a look at this. Honestly I was expecting the feedback to be a lot harsher than what I've received, which is a big plus in my book. *ba dum psh*  Thumbs Up I really appreciate everyone's comments and I hope to post a revision within the next week.
Logged
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #5 on: October 01, 2016, 11:01:10 PM »

So I decided I'm going to do another rewrite of the book. I hope this is more YA than my previous draft. Please note I just wrote it today so if course it needs work but I hope it starts to get me where I hope to go.

Chapter 1: The Shattering
Springfield, Illinois
Sunday, August 27th

As Frank Williams read his favorite scene in his favorite book, his arm mimicked the movement of the curse-shattering sword-fight. Unfortunately for him, the only curse he encountered in real life came in the form of an unjust bedtime.

“Are you freaking serious?” he asked, stomping into the T-shaped hallway where his parents gathered at the bottom of the steps.

“Yes,” I’m freaking serious said his mother, Carol. “You don’t need to be late for your first day of school.”

School, Frank thought with disdain. Who needs it?

“Come on, Mom. I’m fifteen. Not even third-graders have bedtimes these days.”

“That may be, but when these third graders are smoking crack and living in boxes, they’ll wonder why their parents didn’t care enough to give them bedtimes.”

All Frank could do was roll his eyes. Either way, he faced no choice. “All right, all right,” he said, turning back down the hallway.

“And no going to the roof to read either, mister,” came his dad Tom’s voice.

“I haven’t gone up there since summer started. I didn’t have to.”

“And don’t wake up Naomi.”

“Dad, she slept through that tornado, remember? Besides, you’re the one yelling up the steps.”

After a moment of silence his father’s chuckling voice said,” Good night, Champ.”

“Night.”

Frank returned to his room, where he returned his book, “The Wizard and the Knightmare”, to its proper place on his over-stuffed bookshelf. Before shutting off the light he noted a mental pathway around Nintendo Controller Mountain and the Swamp of Stinky Socks. One quick glance to the scantily-clad ogress poster and he shut off the light, casting his room in incessant darkness. The mental map proved useful as he only stepped on three things as opposed to seventeen while crossing Bookpile Forest.

Finally, he reached the enchanted kingdom of “Oh-Yes-Comfy-Bed.”

Once he lay down, he placed a second pillow between his legs, imagining it with a wagging tail and lolling its tongue in pleasure.

“Good night, Urr-Gur-Thur,” he said to the poster, smiling as the thought of her half-mile chest.

He lay there for a moment before he removed his glasses, placing them on the bedside table. In his mind he replayed the exciting scene from the day before, and he couldn’t quell his heart drumming in his chest.

Soon, however, the Sandman made his nightly rounds, and Frank’s eyes grew heavy enough to close. With visions of flint-sparked swords dancing in his head, he drifted off while counting “sheep.”

One dead knight. Two dead knights. Three dead —

Before sleep spirited him away completely, an intense light of pure white interrupted the prelude, turning his room into a blind man’s paradise. Brighter than any room should ever be ever in the history of ever.

“What in King Arthur’s name…?” he asked, blinking against the light. A raised hand managed to block some of the rays bursting from his doorway. “Mom?” Silence. “Dad?” Still no answer.

Frank rolled from his bed to stand on the floor. Once his glasses gave his sight back, he needed no magic to tell him some freaky crap was going down. Once his eyes adjusted to the never-ending illumination, the doorway gave an unobstructed view of the hallway. Except what he saw wasn’t the hallway; it wasn’t even his house.

What looked back at him was a white-floored expanse of some fluffy, cottony material, the center of which contained a silver fountain. A single jet of crystalline water shot up at the center, over which hung a holographic orange sphere.

He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then replaced them on the perch of his nose. Nope, all still there.

Curiosity didn’t just kill the cat, it body-slammed the poor thing. Frank moved forward for a closer look. Bravery filled his veins as he ran a finger along the spines of his fantasy books, siphoning courage from the heroes of his novels. Then he stood at the threshold between his doorway and the alien expanse. No other figures moved, nothing of note except the floor and the fountain. If Frank didn’t know any better, he’d almost think the terrain wasn’t even ground but … clouds?

Okay, go back to bed, Frank, you’re obviously dreaming, he told himself. But his body wouldn’t follow the command of his brain. Instead, he continued onward, passing through the doorway and into the new realm. It felt no different than passing from one room to another.

The material of the floor surprised him, cool and springy under his bare feet. He needed only a short moment to adjust his balance, and it maintained his weight with ease. Above him, an arc of translucent light formed the roof of a dome. The scene beyond that took his breath away. A whole universe greeted him, stars upon stars upon billions of stars. He gasped in awe at this impossible view of the heavens.

All around the rim of the dome, the edging of the cloud-like base, more and more rectangles opened, six in all. Through them, teenagers roughly his own age traversed the dome, each donning garments from a bygone era.

One girl appeared in a flowing dress of gold. Her earlobes sported expensive gold-and-turquoise earrings which dangled to her shoulder. She walked upright and unafraid. Her jet hair gleamed as radiant as the midnight sky around them. Next to her a girl with a dirt-smeared face wearing a torn smock walked in, taking tiny steps as she looked around to all sides. Scars and calluses made up the majority of the skin on her hands. She kept her arms around her, shaking from anything but cold. She whimpered a little, though said nothing. The other in the gold dress said something to her, but her words were not ones Frank recognized. Indeed, a part of brain felt she were speaking Ancient Egyptian. Because logic and all.

“Oh, goodness,” said a young man in English, making Frank’s heart leap with relief. This fellow wore a blue-and-white striped nightgown which flowed past his knees. A matching stocking cap fell to the small of his back, complete with white pom-pom at the point. “One such truth I fear I mustn’t tell.”

“Do my eyes deceive me?” This question came from a tall, lanky guy in overalls. Sweat dripped from his brow, as though he just finished hard labor. Apparently it wasn’t night where some of them came from. “What goes on here?”

“Thou speaketh my English?” asked a woman directly opposite Frank. A gold-and-ruby tiara nestled in her ginger locks glinted in the starlight. “‘Tis rude to appear before a princess without proper introductions. Who art thou?”

With all seven converged around the fountain, Frank responded first, pointing to himself for those who did not speak English.

“Frank. I am Frank.”

A young dark-skinned teen next to him, faint traces of a mustache on his upper lip, said, “I am Martin. Martin Luther King.”

Frank felt himself grow dizzy for a moment, but fought hard to maintain focus. His mouth ran desert dry and his heartbeat nearly drowned out the rest of the introductions.

Another male next to Martin, a short teen wearing green stockings, pointed and said, “Ich bin Johannes.”

“I am Princess Elizabeth Tudor.”

“Cleopatra.”

“Je m’appelle Jeanne d’Arc.”

“Ishkandaar.”

“George Washington.”

“Abraham Lincoln.”

Words exploded from Frank before he could stop them.

“You! All of you! I know who you are!”

Johannes Guttenberg created the first printing press, a marvel which allowed the mass production of the written word. Alexander the Great conquered the world to create one of the most powerful empires to ever cover the Earth. And Joan of Arc led an army during the war between France and Britain. It was said she once heard the voice of God. Perhaps she referred to this moment?

From the center of the fountain burst forth two figures, though one would never know they entered from the water. The liquid created no waves, no ripples disturbed the surface. At their emergence, the holographic sphere, a representation of the sun near as Frank could tell, vanished.

The two newcomers were identical, though Frank had to double-take because neither of them were human. Each was a circular, golden metal body with eyes running along the outer surface. A pair of beautiful, fluffy, snow-white wings waxed and waned in a most majestic, fluid manner.

So I’m standing with people from all across history, as well as a pair of winged wedding rings with eyes. Sure, why not?

Both rings hovered over the fountain, staring at the teens, though whether with remorse or satisfaction it was impossible to tell. Did wedding rings display emotions? Each eye blinked in unison and the wings fluttered in slow rhythm. Then, without a sound, one of the rings spun away, shooting off at such a speed it left a white-hot streak in its wake. The remaining ring spun to take in every teen in its presence.

“Please excuse our abrupt summons,” the ring said in Frank’s head, a soft feminine voice sounding clear as day. “But believe me when I say our need is urgent. I will explain all I can to you. You will hear my words in your own language, the dialect of your time. I know you must wonder who I am, and why I have brought you here. My name is Sol, and I am the leader of a group of beings known as the Seraphim.” A few teens around the fountain gasped as if this meant something to them, though none interrupted further. “You are currently in the Dome of the Divine, our … central hub, if you will. This is where we survey and report on all matters in the universe. We guide every comet and watch over every star to ensure each celestial body continues its natural duties until its end.

“But we have not brought you here for such reasons.” Its voice changed now, becoming more morose now that proper introductions closed. “We have brought you here to plead our case because … because we need your help.”

The creature’s silvery wings flapped once, and the being rose higher into the air. With it, another hologram emerged from the fountain’s water. The image displayed five figures positioned like a five-eyed die. In each corner, human-esque silhouettes bathed in dazzling red, silver, purple, and blue luminescence.
Unfortunately for them, their magnificence vanished in comparison to the metallic gold awesomeness of the being in the center. Frank watched with bated breath as the four attacked the being of golden light. In the blink of an eye, a set of golden human hands drove downward, creating a massive disk of supersonic energy. The very next instant, all four others blasted off-screen, leaving behind the golden silhouette and a witch-like cackle.

Cleopatra spoke, looking up at Sol. Her words sounded awkward and guttural, though Frank couldn’t help but think of her words as, “Rock, house, boat, owl, yay Anubis.”

“Cleopatra desires to know what she watches, and why she should believe we need your aid. What you just saw was the Shattering of the Family. The golden goddess in the middle has gone rogue. In an attempt to cease her cruelty, the Golden One’s … children, for lack of a better term, attempted to reunite with her. But the Golden One was capable of much more power than we feared, and she struck back ten-fold. Now those four gods, the only ones capable of stopping the Golden One’s teachery, are lost, scattered not only among the stars, but across the very essence of time itself.

Sol’s body spun, which in turn changed the scene above the fountain once more. This time the hologram showed a swirling, glimmering sphere of brown and yellow gas, around which particles of hardened substances converged Without hesitating, Frank knew exactly what he was looking at.

“This … this is the Big Bang. The beginning of Earth.”

“A big bang indeed. The Golden One’s attack unleashed so much power it resulted in the creation of a new planet: yours.” It looked at them with narrowed eyes and spoke in an accusatory tone, as though it blamed them for their planet’s creation. “And this is why we have summoned you. Each of you will rise to greatness in your own right. We believe one of the Siblings will find its way to Earth.” An ethereal wing pointed to the hologram.

“But here lies the caveat: the Golden One knows the Siblings have only been displaced, not destroyed. She will surely seek out her own agents to hunt them, just as we have asked of you. The difference is she needs to only destroy one of the Siblings. If she does so we cannot stop her, and she will destroy this universe and all others, remaking them as she sees fit. As such, we must find all four trapped gods before she can find even one.

“The attack left the Siblings in a weakened state, and they will not heal until they are freed, making them easier targets for the Golden One than we suspected. As they are weak, we cannot sense their power, and thus have no idea where to begin to look. We must rely on you to find the one who may end up on your planet, if none of the others. We will recruit others from distant galaxies in hopes of finding them.”

All seven teens stared at one another in wide-eyed horror, each as pale and opaque as the next. Frank felt breathless, the words — no, the whole situation too incredible to believe. Even if the pinch to his arm hurt, that didn’t mean he couldn’t wake up now, thank you very much.
Jeanne and Johannes spoke in unison, the French-German concoction running together to form a headache soup. But Sol seemed to be able to differentiate their languages, and answered accordingly.

“I do not know how much time we have. The Golden One awaits the Great Cataclysm, an event only she knows of. It will be an event of cosmic disaster, when and what we cannot say. But do not fear, for I am sure we can find the Siblings and unite them once more to stop the Golden One. Until we meet again, be vigilant. Farewell.”

Before Frank could say any more, a force pulled as his back. The same must have happened to the others, for they too struggled against the invisible tether. The next thing Frank knew he was encased in darkness. In the following second, the interior of his home came into sight.

But he did not reappear in his bedroom.

Instead, the hallway stairwell loomed before him. Try as he might to catch himself, his hands would not cooperate. His fingers missed the banister just as he lurched forward. His body landed with a crash on the hardwood steps. He cascaded to the proceeding stair, continuing the process in a whirlwind of brown wood and white light.

Finally, he landed as the foot of the stairwell, the soft carpet a much-needed respite from the wood his body assaulted. He placed a hand to his crown. When he drew it back, red-black blood coated his fingers in a sticky mess.

“Frank!” a voice nearby called. His mom and dad filed out from their room, but all he could do was lay there. The world spun harder and harder, and then everything went black.
Logged
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #6 on: October 07, 2016, 01:43:12 PM »

I would like to know what "This is not a story" means.
Logged
gckatz
Hero Member
*****

Karma: 276
Offline Offline

Posts: 1587



WWW
« Reply #7 on: October 07, 2016, 01:46:02 PM »

I would like to know what "This is not a story" means.

We all would.
Logged

JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #8 on: October 07, 2016, 01:52:47 PM »

I really hope this isn't a troll. Constructive criticism is one thing. The same cryptic message on several posts, however...
Logged
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #9 on: October 07, 2016, 02:12:19 PM »

You obviously did not read the chapter so your comment is being ignored.
Logged
JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #10 on: October 07, 2016, 02:42:05 PM »

The past is not the only thing that paints a picture, and in this day and age irrelevant backstory is a novel killer. What needs to be clear is the intent of the novel and the inciting incident. Here we have the inciting incident. THAT is the only thing that HAS to be in the beginning. You cannot expect someone to tell the entire story in the opening pages. Then there would be no novel.
Logged
gckatz
Hero Member
*****

Karma: 276
Offline Offline

Posts: 1587



WWW
« Reply #11 on: October 07, 2016, 03:23:16 PM »

Quote
To paint that sketch you need two things: a black pen and a white paper. You could also draw the sketch with a white pen on a black paper. But you can't draw it on a white paper with a white pen, or on a black paper with a black pen.

Well, I still have no idea what you're on about, but now I have Three Dog Night stuck in my head.
Logged

JEC112
Full Member
***

Karma: 15
Offline Offline

Posts: 95


« Reply #12 on: October 07, 2016, 03:36:55 PM »

That might be great for YOUR novel, but it doesn't work with all novels, especially not at the beginning. And considering characters throughout history appear with the MC in the chapter, it doesn't have to be his personal past, which has no current relevance to anything in the chapter.
Logged
gckatz
Hero Member
*****

Karma: 276
Offline Offline

Posts: 1587



WWW
« Reply #13 on: October 07, 2016, 06:19:00 PM »

Quote
When he held the gold medal in his hand, he felt it was too heavy for its size. But he wasn’t surprised, as he remembered that gold had a higher density rate. After all he was a scientist who had won the noble prize for chemistry.
The clamor of a thousand people seated in the seat behind him brought him back to the present. He realized in front of him was standing the king of Sweden. His highness who had just awarded him the prize.
He turn his back and looked at them all. A thousand gentlemen and ladies, dressed in most expensive and formal clothes, all in black, clapping for him, praising him for his knowledge and for his achievement. And in that moment he felt as if time stopped. He felt as if a door opened in front of him and stepped into the past, into the laboratory where he had been for the first time, thirty years ago. He blinked and was back in the present, in front of a thousand people with the Nobel Prize round his kneck. He had done it.

Wow, that is...impressively bad. Every sentence you added I would immediately delete. You're stuffing a nice, clean scene that's already perfectly clear full of turgid backstory. "After all he was a scientist." I cannot possibly imagine a duller way to communicate that someone is a scientist.

For the benefit of the peanut gallery: Don't do this.
Logged

Pages: [1]   Go Up
  Print  
 
Jump to:  

Powered by MySQL Powered by PHP Powered by SMF 1.1.2 | SMF © 2006-2007, Simple Machines LLC Valid XHTML 1.0! Valid CSS!