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Hi William - I think you have the makings of a great story. One thing you need to do is pare down the descriptives. There are a lot of them and it is distracting from the action. They slow the reader down, making him/her aware of the writing rather than the story.Thank you for sharing this with us.
Mod
The chapter you posted sounds like a really interesting story. So far, so good. But, I do agree with Megan that some of the details could be taken out. Maybe leave some extra details to the imagination of the reader.
William -I would avoid it in a novel - it makes a reader too conscious of the writing.
Susan wrote: "I thought of starting a discussion to see what everyone else is working on. Plus, perhaps we could possible get/give a little feedback.If you have any works in progress, share them here. I'll sta..."
Hi Susan,
great topic, thanks for starting. My suggestion for your book would be to not worry about how long it should be before you start. It will be as long as it needs to be. One idea, however, could be a trilogy of: The Plague, The Rise of The Zyfoids and The Revolution.
This would flesh out each stage of the story and also answer 2 crucial questions:
Why do they need to fill the gaps in society?
Why are they so important to society?
On the first question you could show society falling apart, etc. due to underpopulation. Show unsuccessful solutions before coming to the Zyfoid solution.
On the second Question,there has to be an iron clad reason for the zyfoids being detained and not destroyed or re-programmed. Maybe they're being resuced by their inventor. Maybe they're being stolen so the technology can be replicated. Maybe a madman is stockpiling them for a private army.
I'd suggest locking these two points in before doing anything more.
William wrote: "Sounds pretty awesome sci-fi! I'd go for a massive single book or plump for a trilogy - two part series perhaps seem a little odd?Since we are here (and thanks Susan for starting this) I could re..."
Hi William,
I agree with the others in reagrds to the excessive use of adjectives and adverbs. The more you use, the less descriptive it becomes.
One thing I've done which has improved my writing more than anything else, is to take your first draft and highlight every adjective and adverb. Then ask yourself if it needs to be there. I would never use more than one adjective at a time and I wouldn't use more than one adverb per paragraph (if at all). More often than not, you can find a better verb.
One example is "sipped slightly". slightly is reduntant. A sip is slight by definition, as opposed to gargled, wolfed, skulled, etc.
One thing that is evident in your writing is a passion and instinct for writing. It clearly has a pulse, it just needs some of the layers removed.
Good luck!
Hope this helps.
The book I'm mapping out at the moment is based on the true story of Kitty Genovese. She was murdered on the street outside her apartment building while, according to some reports, 38 witnesses did nothing.It's broken down into 38 stories, one for each witness. Some had their reasons, some didn't, some tried and failed, some were titilated, some were scared.
The thing I'm having issues with is how the book should flow. Do I just do the 38 interlinked stories or does something need to drive the overall narrative along.
Each story will reveal a little more about the murder, the victim and each one of them. Maybe this will be enough?
Mod
It would be awesome if you could intertwine the stories of the witnesses somehow but I think if you did that with all 38, it may become monotonous. I wonder if its possible to intertwine some of them but then use a narrative for others (perhaps from the police investigating the crime).
Chris - I would try writing each story separately first. If you use first person, which I would, the difference in the voices and perspectives may be enough. There is a book called "A Few Corrections," which uses an obituary to tell the story. Each character alters the obit from their perspective. It's fiction, but might be worth checking out for technique.
Susan wrote: "I thought of starting a discussion to see what everyone else is working on. Plus, perhaps we could possible get/give a little feedback.If you have any works in progress, share them here. I'll sta..."
Hey Susan,
I'm working on a post-apocalyptic novel, but just wanted to say your story idea sounds awesome and if I were you, I'd totally make it one big book and decide at the end or once you're towards the end, whether or not to divide it. I have a blog in regards to publishing (self or traditional) and I talk briefly about word count (just in case you're thinking about going traditional).--->http://dawnhusted.weebly.com/blog.html
it might be helpful in your decision to split it or keep it as one.
goodluck!
Dawn
Susan wrote: "Thanks for your feeback. The story about the murder seems like it would be a really interesting story. I think I know which murder that was too. was it the one that occurred in the 1930s or 40s?I..."
Thanks Susan,
Yes it happened in 1964 I think. There's a book called Good Neighbours also based on these events which is a straight narrative.
I'm aiming to be slightly different in the narrative. For example, one chapter might be a police witness statement. One will be a short story written by a witness. One will be a letter written years later by a witness who was only a child and who's parents didn't believe him/her. Some will also be straight narratives.
There's a book called 253 which tells the story of 253 passengers on a train, and Gunter Grass' book Century which contains a short story for each year of the 20 th century. This is sort of what I'm going for so we'll see how it turns out!
Megan wrote: "Chris - I would try writing each story separately first. If you use first person, which I would, the difference in the voices and perspectives may be enough. There is a book called "A Few Correct..."
Hi Megan,
Sounds interesting, I'll have to hunt down a copy.
Thanks
Yay! I have finally finished the final edits for Strange Worlds. I can now go back to being torn between my fantasy novel and my sci-fi novella!
I just finished part one of a YA set in Florida. (the typical, school drama, boys, family life stuff) I'm hoping the final edits will be complete soon so it can be put out there. XD
I am working on a sequel to The Rift, my first book. It's an angel/ demon horror YA with some seriously twisted and demented stuff in it.
Chris wrote: "The book I'm mapping out at the moment is based on the true story of Kitty Genovese. She was murdered on the street outside her apartment building while, according to some reports, 38 witnesses did..."That sounds awesome! Maybe have an emotion, or a mark on the sidewalk that each person walks by on a daily basis. I think that something should tie them together whether by a sight or a smell or some kind of trigger.
I'm writing the sequel to my very first novel!
And yours sounds interesting even w/o a title!
I know the feeling lol I hate trying to describe the genre my book would fit into b/c it just feels so narrowed or pigeon-holed
Haha I bet. Good for you for doing what you want.
Self published. I've been writing creatively for as ling ad I can remember. For a big chunk of time during grad school and after when I had to work two jobs I didn't write much. After stuff is settled down I was determined to write my book and actually did it! What about you?
lol Yeah that's what I did. Its only been just under a month. It was pretty easy. The self-marketing has been the hard part.
So far I've been relying on word of mouth and lists, etc lol. Its only been a month so I'm still figuring that bit out.
I like Blood Will Tell. But if it doesnt feel right then it doesn't.
Just published my YA. I'm working on the sequel now. It's so hard to write about mundane things. I miss my fairies, genies and werewolves. ~sighs~
I'm writing my first novel 'The Gargoyle Of St Johns' at the moment, which is being serialised for free on Jukepop.com. And there are always little bits of things hanging around on my hard-drive! I have storyboards for the main ones over on Pinterest if anyone's interested (http://pinterest.com/alicepaladin/boa...)@ Susan: I really like the sound of that! Reminds me a bit of The Flesh from Doctor Who. And I've always been fond of trilogies.
@ S.K.N: Sounds very cool!
@ Keshena: I'd agree that Blood Will Tell sounds a bit more mystery - but I like it regardless :)
Blood Will Tell does sound a tad like mystery, but I think that can work for you. It's not as limiting right off. It might draw in a wider audience.
I'm currently writing a book about witches. For as long as I can remember, witches have always been the best sort of outlet to me for telling a horror story. The thought of being able to do fantastical things with the blink of an eye was as frightening as it is amazing. The main character of my novel and her friends are witchess.Evanthe Burton has seen the ugly sides of magic. Her family is considered ruthless and dark in the wizarding world of Vinland. But Vinland is a long ways from Ancient Oaks, Virgina and Evanthe is far away from their manipulative mgic - or so she thought. Evil has a way of clinging to you, in the most unlikely form such as a dark witch who has fallen in love with a younge brother, or the menacing black form of a red eyed dog. Evanthe can't run from the darkness around her, nor can she ignore the secrets that are unfurling in front of her in the form of wild chaos. Evanthe can't fight her fears- but she'll have to learn what it takes to conquer them if she wants to keep the ones she loves safe.
This will be my first novel. I'm only 30 pages in, but I feel like this is something that can grow into a pretty strong story. I wanted to explore fear in this novel and have magic as the catalyst to show someone conquering their darkest fears.
I'm currently writing a book about witches. For as long as I can remember, witches have always been the best sort of outlet to me for telling a horror story. The thought of being able to do fantastical things with the blink of an eye was as frightening as it is amazing. The main character of my novel and her friends are witchess.Evanthe Burton has seen the ugly sides of magic. Her family is considered ruthless and dark in the wizarding world of Vinland. But Vinland is a long ways from Ancient Oaks, Virgina and Evanthe is far away from their manipulative mgic - or so she thought. Evil has a way of clinging to you, in the most unlikely form such as a dark witch who has fallen in love with a younge brother, or the menacing black form of a red eyed dog. Evanthe can't run from the darkness around her, nor can she ignore the secrets that are unfurling in front of her in the form of wild chaos. Evanthe can't fight her fears- but she'll have to learn what it takes to conquer them if she wants to keep the ones she loves safe.
This will be my first novel. I'm only 30 pages in, but I feel like this is something that can grow into a pretty strong story. I wanted to explore fear in this novel and have magic as the catalyst to show someone conquering their darkest fears.
Mod
I originally thought that the back story of the plague would only be a few chapters. Wrong lol. I'm on chapter 17 and the Zyfoids have just been introduced to the world and are just beginning to deal with the aftermath of the disease. They're cleaning up the streets, putting shops back together again and filling in the jobs that many left behind. A third of the world died in a short amount of time so it did create quite a chaotic scene (looters, not enough supplies delivered to stores, grieving families, children left without parents, etc.)
I've introduced three of the main characters so far (The Zyfoids) and I LOVE them all, lol. Since they're brand new to the world at the moment, they are almost like children in the way they percieve everything and they get their feelings hurt easily when people don't accept them. I've been keeping up with my blog here on Goodreads about it as well.
I have far too many works in progress. There are three stories I'm closest to finishing.The first is about a social worker in the Philippines who ends up being drawn into a fight with an aswang (a kind of traditional folk monster that slides its tongue into you and sucks out your internal organs). I'm in the middle of a plot revamp because one of the characters feels like she needs to be more active.
The other two are rather strange things which I'm unsure of, but I can't stop. One is about an incubus and an ex-gay ministry (which is trying to use him to cure lesbians), and the other one is about a woman who's entered into a relationship with a very strange woman and comes close to writing herself to death.
I'm very impressed with all of the novelists! It's rare for me to have a story that can hit ten thousand words without padding, let alone reach novel length.
Hi all :)I am currently working on a YA fantasy novel. I have actually completed it and started sending it off to agents, but I am always tweaking it and re reading it to make it the absolute best that it can be. I would like to post the first chapter here but it is quite long. Is there a better place to do that? Or is the best location for it?
Thanks!
Okay...so here is a sample of the first chapter of my novel. (It's too long to post the whole thing sadly, and it has also messed up my formatting!)Anyway...I would love to hear your thoughts/criticisms/advice.
The Wolf's Cry
Chapter One
The Mouth of the Forest
Kammy frowned as the stone bounced once and disappeared into the shifting water. She looked down at her boots and scooped up another, this one smooth and light. She pulled back her arm and flung it out to sea. Normally her stones would skim the surface, setting off a stream of ripples that granted her a second of satisfaction. Today her stones seemed to do nothing but sink. Kammy looked up at the sky and sighed. The clouds were gathering; thick and dark with the promise of rain. The wind was stronger with every gust and the sea was beginning to churn, sending waves full of seaweed rolling towards her, each wave bigger than the last. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched the storm grow, letting the wind catch her hair and carry it out behind her.
The mainland was a shadow on the horizon, a distant world to Kammy Helseth. Kammy squinted at it, pretending that she could see London; the land of her dreams. She pictured the Shard, an impossible structure to her mind. She pictured the Thames running alongside Westminster, as she had seen them when watching the Olympics. Her home was an insignificant blot in comparison to such grandeur. She glanced to the western most point of her little island, just able to make out the dock from where she stood. That was her gateway to freedom. She frowned and glanced at her watch. The ferry was nowhere in sight, but it should have arrived five minutes ago. A drop of rain splashed at the end of her nose to disturb her thoughts and Kammy turned her back on the waves with reluctance. If she did not start home before the downpour she might end up stuck in the village, and that was not worth a few extra moments of solitude.
Kammy pushed London out of her mind and picked her way across the rock pools. Their surfaces reflected the furious sky until they were disturbed by the off spit of rain. The crabs scuttled back and forth seeking out shelter. The air was sharp with the tang of salt and Kammy sucked in long breaths as she navigated her way with ease. She quickly left the pools behind and started towards the sandy bluffs that were coated with patches of dry grass as tall as her knees. She heard a faint rumble overhead and quickened her pace, her attention focused solely on her feet and the steep climb ahead of her. When she reached the top she walked right into something. She jerked backwards and almost lost her footing.
‘Watch where you’re going.’
Kammy’s cheeks flushed and she glared up at the girl before her.
Esme Cooper was proud to be the exact opposite of Kammy in every way. She was tall, fair and had bright green eyes that looked almost luminous in the growing darkness, eyes that were narrowed to slits beneath her hood.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Kammy, her small voice almost lost within the whistling wind.
‘You don’t own this beach, Kammy, despite the fact that you spend most of your miserable existence here.’
Kammy’s flush deepened. Thunder growled again and the rain began to fall more heavily. Kammy pulled her hood up and dropped her eyes to her feet as she stepped towards the path that would take her home.
Esme’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, pinching her skin through the material of her coat sleeve. ‘I wish you would just do it and leave. I wish you’d stop thinking about it and that you’d actually go. It’s a shame you don’t have the guts.’
Kammy tried to twist away. ‘Let go of me.’
Esme’s grip tightened and her nails dug in deeper. She did not speak until Kammy looked her in the eye. Her lip curled. ‘We don’t want you here.’
She flung Kammy’s arm away from her as if it were something rotten and Kammy stumbled, her boots slipping in sand and dirt that was already turning to mud. Esme laughed and Kammy could feel every inch of her skin burning with humiliation.
‘What the hell?’
Kammy sagged with relief. Jamie was jogging towards them, his face twisted into a frown. Esme scowled.
‘What’s going on?’ he said, a little out of breath.
Esme shot a dark look at Kammy and said, ‘Nothing,’ before rearranging her hood and stalking away from them, back towards the village. Kammy watched her go in silence, biting down on her bottom lip and avoiding Jamie’s searching gaze.
‘You okay?’ said Jamie.
Kammy nodded and hid her trembling hands in her pockets.
‘Are you going to tell me what that was about?’
Kammy sighed and tried to smile. ‘The same as always. There’s nothing to tell.’
‘They’re just jealous, Esme and the others. They’re threatened by you.’
‘Oh, sure, because I’m terrifying.’
Jamie grinned at her. ‘You are, actually.’
Kammy felt the beginnings of a true smile and tried to stifle it, always aware that Jamie’s ego needed to be kept in check. She eyed him with affection even so. He was a lanky thing, all arms and legs and terrible coordination. He towered over Kammy, often using her head as an elbow rest. His sandy curls had been ironed out by the rain and his jumper was halfway to drenched.
‘What are you doing out here anyway? I didn’t see the ferry come in.’
He pushed his sopping fringe out of his eyes. ‘I came back on an earlier one, because of this,’ he pointed at the sky. ‘Guess it’s stuck at Felixstowe now. Anyway, I thought I’d come up and see you, and your Gran told me you were down here. I should have known, really.’
Kammy ducked behind him and started pushing him towards the path.
‘Well, now you need to get home. You’re not even wearing a coat.’
‘Yes, mum.’
‘I’m thinking of your mum actually. She’ll go mad when she sees you.’
Jamie spun away from her; his warm brown eyes sparkled with their usual mischief. ‘I’ll make sure to tell her that it’s all your fault.’
Kammy punched his arm and he laughed before squinting through the rain towards the village. There was a loud boom overhead and when Kammy looked up the clouds were so black that it felt as though night had arrived early.
Jamie ran a hand through his hair and pouted, ‘it pains me to admit you’re right. It looks bad. You’re sure you’re okay?’
Kammy offered him an assured smile. ‘Yes, it’s nothing I can’t handle. Go.’
‘Are you working tomorrow?’
‘In the afternoon.’
‘I’ll pop in then.’
‘Good. Now, go away.’
‘But she’s going to make me fill in more job applications,’ he whined.
As though with a turn of a tap, the rain began to drive towards them like a river surging from the sky. Kammy let out a squeal and laughed while Jamie yelped and started to back away.
‘Thank you,’ Kammy shouted, ‘for before.’
He shouted back but it was a struggle to hear him, ‘Always here for you, freak.’ Then he tossed her a quick wave before leaping off down the path that led to the cluster of buildings that made up the village of Lumbersdale.
Kammy tried to watch him splash off but he was lost to her in a few blinks of an eye. She turned the opposite way and she took a deep breath. Without him, her smile faded and the memory of her confrontation with Esme pushed itself back into the forefront of her mind. It was funny that they hated each other so much, yet both wanted the same thing; Kammy gone to the mainland. She glanced to her left, at the strip of ocean that divided the Isle of Daleswick from the eastern coast of England. The waves were slamming together now, shooting foam up into the sky. The water looked like black ice and Kammy felt her stomach turn. Just the thought of the crossing made her knees tremble. She did not have the guts; Esme was right.
A flash illuminated the sky and Kammy swore. She tried to move faster but the path had turned into an oozing stream of mud. Her boots slurped at it, sticking and sinking. She pulled them free and struggled on, bowing against the wind that buffeted her.
She could see her home sat at the top of the hill, alone but for the forest behind it. It looked defenceless against the backdrop of the storm but the flickering glow from the kitchen window promised a fire and warmth. Kammy jogged the final distance. Her Gran was incapable of remembering to lock the door so she darted inside quickly. The storm continued to rage just as loudly from inside, but the log fire coated everything with a hazy warmth that made Kammy smile.
The kitchen was a simple square full of wooden surfaces and peeling yellow wallpaper. There was a vase of dying flowers on the dining table and stained mesh curtains hung on the windows. Kammy kicked her boots off, leaving them by the door so that the mud would dry, and hung her coat on the hook. She crossed the room to crouch before the fireplace.
The wind rattled the windows and Kammy glanced back at the darkness, entertaining the possibility that her grandmother was out in the storm. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard a muffled curse. Laughing to herself, Kammy straightened and started to fill the kettle.
Irena came striding into the kitchen, her trim figure clothed in a pair of old dungarees and a red jumped. ‘Kam, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.’ Her grey hair was pulled up into a scruffy bun and there was a line on her brow that told Kammy she was incredibly frustrated. She dropped herself into a chair at the table and huffed.
Smiling, Kammy pulled two mugs from the cupboard and asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘That bloody wardrobe. Heavier than I thought.’
‘Gran,’ Kammy groaned, placing the mugs down with more force than she had intended. ‘I told you that Harry offered to help, if you really must move the thing.’
Irena wave a hand, ignoring Kammy completely, and fixed moss green eyes on her granddaughter. ‘You look ill.’
Kammy snorted. ‘Thanks.’
‘Seriously Kam, you look ever so pale.’
The kettle began to whistle. ‘I am pale. This is what I always look like.’
Irena’s silence was not comforting, and Kammy focused on making the tea. She placed the mugs onto the table and Irena thanked her. Kammy sank into the other chair and curled her fingers around her own mug.
She sighed, ‘Go on, and say it.’
Irena stared, and then shrugged her innocence. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jamie stopped here by the way. Did he catch you?’
Kammy was suspicious. Her Gran was usually quick to pick at the various aspects of Kammy’s life that she disagreed with, namely her tendency to spend her time alone. Jamie and his importance to Kammy seemed to be the only thing they agreed on in that regard.
‘He found me just as that started up,’ she looked out the window. When she turned back to her Gran, she flinched. Irena’s eyes were alight in that way that Kammy knew all too well. It was a look that made her feel as though all her thoughts and feelings could be drawn out of her on a string.
‘You should have gone back to his for once. You’re always around here.’
‘I didn’t know you were so keen to get rid of me.’
Irena raised a thin eyebrow. ‘It is my life ambition.’
Kammy laughed. ‘I might have gotten stuck in the village. I had to come home.’
‘You could have stayed at his.’
‘Gran.’
‘Kammy.’
Kammy was in the mood to be stubborn, but she had never been able to outmanoeuvre her grandmother when it came to stubbornness and she did not suppose she would start now.
‘His mum hates me.’
Irena’s eyebrows disappeared altogether. ‘Helen? Why on earth do you think that?’
Kammy slouched back in her chair and mumbled, ‘Because she does.’
‘That is ridiculous,’ said Irena, and her tone told Kammy that there would be no arguing such a statement. So, Kammy took a sip of tea and stayed silent. Her Gran could believe what she wanted about Helen Powell but Kammy knew the truth...
I am currently working on the second book of a YA trilogy. Here is an excerpt. Kiah's Soul-Shifting Journey (2)Prologue
It was written by a great leader and has been passed down through the ages: "A beautiful young leader will emerge and lead an army of young peers to bring peace and unite the Quarters."
Some people believe that I am that young leader. However, I am not convinced. I believe that we are all leaders who have come together to build a force to fight against the oppression of the people. We are The New Freedom Force. Our fight will not end until every quadrant citizen is released from the terror and poverty inflicted upon them by the leaders of the four Cities of Technology.
*****
Six months ago, we took down Grove. Actually, we liberated Grove the same way we had liberated Bell Town almost a year ago. As it turned out, the citizens of Grove were prisoners of Overseer Meyers like the quadrant citizens were. The seeker-beams on top of the eight-foot walls around Grove kept the quadrant citizens out, but they also kept the Grove citizens in. The Grove citizens lived an easier life than the quadrant citizens; yet, they were far from free.
On the night that we liberated the city, the night of the comet as I call it, the Grove citizens welcomed us with opened arms. It would have been a great night… except… once it was all over and the crowds in the street dispersed, Mark Dunner, the overseer of The Eastern Quadrant, and his son, Marcus, sent a message to me on Overseer Meyers’s office computer. “Time is running out,” Overseer Dunner said. Then, they put my dad in front of the camera. With his face badly beaten, Dad looked closer to death than life.
I call that night ‘the night of the comet’ because as we were walking to the Overseer’s mansion, a huge ball of fire streaked through the sky. It had to be a comet…
Chapter 1
Overseer Dunner stares at me with his cold, dark eyes. “So, what’s it going to be?” he says, while holding a gun to Ryker’s head. I have my own pistol aimed at the overseer’s head. “If you shoot me, you will never find your father. I can also guarantee that I will get one last shot in, and your boyfriend will be dead too.”
“Kiah,” Ryker says. “He’s going to shoot us anyway. Do not put your gun down!”
Without breaking eye contact, I relax my hand and lay the gun on Overseer Dunner’s desk. As he laughs loudly and relaxes his gun hand, I drop the dagger from my shirtsleeve and aim straight at his heart. While falling backward, he aims his gun toward Ryker again. In one quick movement, I grab the gun from the desk and shoot the overseer between his eyes. I untie Ryker from the chair, and I cry.
“We’ll find him,” Ryker says as he holds me in his arms.
I focus and pop back into my body. I cling to Ryker. He holds me in his arms, smoothing my hair out of my face. “Any change?” he asks.
“No.” I wipe the tears from my eyes. “I killed him again, this time with my dagger, but still no clue where he has Dad hidden.”
I have been soul-shifting almost everyday for the last six months, trying to find the location of my dad. Each time I soul-shift, to see where the overseer is holding Dad, I find the overseer holding Ryker. The overseer always tells me that if I kill him, not only will I never find my dad, but also Ryker will die. No matter how many times I change the events of the scenario, the ending is always the same. I kill the overseer and save Ryker, but I never find any clues as to where he is holding my dad.
“We’ll find him,” Ryker says. “He must have told someone. He has to have some sort of record of where he is keeping him.
“Ryker, I followed him for almost three days. I’ve watched him at his computer. He knows I’m there. That’s why he’s not giving any information. He knows when I’m watching him.”
“Kiah, that doesn’t make sense. How could he possibly know?”
“Why is it so hard for you to believe? You always know when I’m close. When I’m soul-shifting, you always know when I kiss you or tell you goodbye. How do you know?”
Ryker lays back on the pillow and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I think it’s because I love you. I can feel your presence, but the overseer doesn’t have those kind of feelings for you.”
“Ryker, you know I’m there because your love for me is so strong that it has no boundaries. Overseer Dunner’s hatred for me is as strong as your love is for me. His hatred has no boundaries. It doesn’t matter if I’m in this world or my soul-shifter world, his hate connects him to me.” I think I could be dead and his hatred would haunt me.
Ryker turns toward me and rests his head on his hand. “Kiah, this is wearing you out. You need to take a break. We will find your dad. I promise, we won’t give up, but you can’t keep leaving for two and sometimes almost three days at a time. Do you know how many times you’ve almost not made it back in time? Sometimes I think you forget that if your soul doesn’t rejoin your body in three days, you will die.”
I touch his face and try to smooth his worry lines away. When I look deep into his crystal-blue eyes, I melt into his arms. I feel bad because, the truth of the matter is, it is Ryker who is getting worn out. When I soul-shift, my body is sleeping so when I pop back into my body, I am rested. Ryker, on the other hand, stays awake the whole time I am gone. I have urged him to sleep and go about his daily routine while I am gone, but he won’t. He stands guard over my sleeping body like I am a sleeping princess about to be eaten by dragons or something.
“I promise, I will take a week off. I won’t do any soul-shifting for at least a week,” I say.
He smiles and pulls me closer to him. I wrap my arms around his neck. As our mouths meet, his hand slides up my spine under my shirt and electricity surges through my body.
Hey Ann,Just had a quick read. It's a very interesting premise! I am definitely intrigued to know more about soul shifting, why Kiah has the ability, and what is going on with her father!
One thing I would say, and this is just my preference, is that I feel there could be more showing and less telling? We get a lot of information in a short space of time and I think it would feel more natural if it were dispersed more gradually?
Hope you don't mind me making that little suggestion! Good luck with it. :)
Natalie wrote: "Hey Ann,Just had a quick read. It's a very interesting premise! I am definitely intrigued to know more about soul shifting, why Kiah has the ability, and what is going on with her father!
One th..."
I don't mind at all, Natalie. thanks for your feedback. :)
Just finished another YA. (yay) My fantasy world is calling me now. :)
Mod
William wrote: "Do you reckon beginnings or ending are harder?"I would have said endings. So many books are started and so few finished - actually filling in the middle must be the hardest thing.
I am writing a rather gritty tale about an assassin who is betrayed by his employers and basically kills them one by one. His problems are twofold: he doesn't know who they are, so he needs to find them, and he is sick so it is a bit of a race against time. It is a fantasy world, some magic exists but is not fully central to the story.I recently found out there is a name for this subgenre: grimdark, seems about right.
William wrote: "Tura wrote: "William wrote: "Do you reckon beginnings or ending are harder?"I usually know how the story will or is supposed to end. Getting there from the beginning is the hard part - not that I necessarily write down the ending beforehand.
Either that or set aside a certain amount of time, regardless of how much you get done. Some people find that works better, some prefer the word count method, see which suits you. Don't set yourself to fail by setting the bar too high, you can adjust it later, if you feel you could do more set it higher.
Mod
Maybe just having a set amount of time set aside each week to write. Whatever you can spare, just have that time slot to work on your books and don't get overwhelmed by looking at how much you accomplish. Just know that during that time, you'll write as much as you can.
William wrote: "This is the first bit of my first novel, The Symbiot Awakening. I have just given it an edit and i would love to know what anybody thinks :D !“Fatima Khan reporting: Today meteors continued to pi..."
Generally it is well written, I hope it is developing well. I would just say: a bit too much exposition. Could maybe move the description of Vladimir, his living arrangements etc somewhere later? Break it up a bit? Some of it could come up in dialogue? I don't think we need to know all that about Veronica's family just yet either, it might add to the mystery (and interest for reader) if there was just an exotic stranger delivering an invitation to hotel, to discuss a vacancy.
I hate writing exposition - it is such a nuisance, but at the same time you have to stuff it somewhere, especially in fantasy or scifi where you have a lot of the world to describe. I tend to dress it up in dialogue if I can, hiding the broccoli under the mashed potatoes... hoping reader will eat it without paying much attention to it. I find in narrative it is often better if there is a slow reveal of the character, I watched the extended version of Wicker Man, and listened to the commentary where C. Lee and someone twitter on how much better it is with the preliminary scenes that establish the constable as an insufferable religious bore. I completely disagreed. The constable ACTS like a stiff-necked puritan all the time, so we get the picture pretty well without all the blah blah, and the beginning of the mutilated version opens just about perfect: arrival by boat. Can you get much more classical than that?
I do have a lot of backstory for the characters that I do not write down... generally the characters insist on telling me what a horrible childhood they had :) - I can't find a place to put it all, even if I wanted to. I usually know my characters quite well before I write, the main ones at least. Some side characters are recruited on the way, to do a specific job, and often surprise me when they develop.
If you have any works in progress, share them here. I'll start:
I'm getting ready to start writing my next book (I've done a lot of thinking/brain storming). I don't have a name just yet but it's going to be a sci-fi that takes place in the year 2325.
By the year 2245, a third of the population has been wiped out by a plague. Once they have a cure and stop the disease in its tracks, the leaders of the world decide to release "Zyfoids" into the population in order to fill the gaps in society left behind by so many deaths. Zyfoids are robots of the future that look, act, feel and learn just like humans do.
However, there's an 'incident' in Japan where a small group of Zyfoids try to take over. They're subdued right away but the humans realize that this could happen again. The government begins taking the Zyfoids out of society over a period of time and placing them into a confined factory type of place. They can't destroy them because they are too important to society. They keep them under watch and confined at all times.
The four main characters, which are Zyfoids, only want their old lives back. They had homes, jobs, friends, etc and they simply want to return to that once again. Eventually, the four lead a revolution against the humans and fight for their old lives. It quickly becomes an epic battle between robots and humans.
Who will win in the end? Will the humans overcome yet another obstacle and remain the dominant race of the universe? Or will the Zyfoids defeat the humans and one day inherit the Earth?
I've been working on the outline to the book and it may have to be broken down into two books or be a door stopper. Not sure yet how it will turn out. Any feedback or thoughts are very much appreciated.