Boarders Writing a Novel, Part 9

[Myrddin]

I am on FM already. :) More active in the chat than in the forums, and right now I'm not in any of the critique circles, but I had a good one a few years ago.

I've tried to put some life into the Historical Fiction forum, but that's as much a Sysiphos work than putting some life in that other dead board. At some point you realise that it's a waste of time flogging a dead horse. At least FM has some pretty active subforums.

You're that Gabrielle! Good to know. I've been posting in your threads and didn't know it. :)

I agree. Absolute Write has more active boards than FM.

[Gabriele]

You're that Gabrielle!

There can only be one. :)

[Gabriele]

I have to echo what Mryddin said - i use absolute write to seek in depth advicebon my opening chapters and, most recently, my synopsis. Theres some really knowledgeable folk there willing to give lots of time but you have to give back too. They dont take kindky to newbs arrivibg and straight away asking for a beta reader.

I still go there for the market and scam warning stuff, but I've had some problems with people being dead set against omniscient POV in the critique places; so I prefer FM for that (and a lot of it is private via email with some members these days).

[Jaime's Wench]

I still go there for the market and scam warning stuff, but I've had some problems with people being dead set against omniscient POV in the critique places; so I prefer FM for that (and a lot of it is private via email with some members these days).

AW critics are very set in their ideas, but most of them are good ones. It's hard, thiugh, when you have something fundamental like pov to agree and work through to something constructive.

[AndrewBaelish]

I'm turning that script into a short story, which I hope to expand back into a novella or script. I just need to get a handle on the story. It sped along a lot faster than I was wanting.

[Zoë Sumra]

Whew. Just finished STAS's line edit in two days flat. Someone remind me to always write short books...

*is doing the happy happy joy joy dance* IDK about anyone else, but I always love or hate any given piece of my writing: I rarely feel ambivalent about it. I'm on the up-swing with this one at the moment. It won't last, but I'll enjoy it while I can.

[Francis Buck]

I wrote five pages in three days.

Non-double spaced.

[Francis Buck]

I actually have a prose question. One paragraph I have starts with:

In fact, Cithrich shouldn't even be there at all. As Commander of the Silver-Wolf Guard, the elite personal guard of the Emperor Euräqeon Iguviwa (may he reign for a thousand years), Cithrich's rightful place was back in Orthigar, by the Emperor's side.

That first sentence, is the "there" correct? At first I had "here", and that didn't seem right, but now I've been over thinking it and neither of them sound right to me. The story at large is written in third-person omniscient, but it does still stick within the characters' POVs for the most part. But I guess since it's technically the narrator speaking, "there" is the right way to go?

I suppose I could just replace the word with "in Ambany" (the name of the country).

ETA: Just read it again and realized that two sentences later I have:

Cithrich knew that, if he could have his way, the Emperor himself would be here.

which, for some reason, doesn't sound as weird? Or at least it didn't, but now I'm thinking about it again and neither word seems right.

[Galleymac]

If you're doing omniscient-subjective (tight focus on a single character at a time, per scene) I'd go with "here." Don't overthink it, though -- neither is really grammatically incorrect, and you don't want to get stuck on it.

I tend to think of myself as a sort of camera -- if I'm doing a big pan over an entire scene and my "camera" pulls up, I'll use more distant, narrator-y, omniscient-objective language. But when I drop down into a character's head/heart really emphasizing their specific POV, I shift to using the more intimate language.

[Francis Buck]

If you're doing omniscient-subjective (tight focus on a single character at a time, per scene) I'd go with "here." Don't overthink it, though -- neither is really grammatically incorrect, and you don't want to get stuck on it.

I tend to think of myself as a sort of camera -- if I'm doing a big pan over an entire scene and my "camera" pulls up, I'll use more distant, narrator-y, omniscient-objective language. But when I drop down into a character's head/heart really emphasizing their specific POV, I shift to using the more intimate language.

Awesome advice. I get exactly what you're saying and, in a way, I think that was precisely my issue. I stopped looking at it from the perspective of the reader, or more specifically what I the writer was presenting to the reader, realized through a particular character, and then focused instead on the perspective of myself as the writer again. That may sound really wonky and convoluted, but anyway it made sense to me! Thank you very much.

[Starkess]

I wanted to finish my draft in July, but alas, I did not. I'm close, though! Only one more chapter to go. Tomorrow is going to be a writing day--this is going to be conquered!

[Datepalm]

In fact, Cithrich shouldn't even be there at all

Hard to say without the context, but what bothers me in that sentence is the tense. Feels like it should be either:

- Cithrich shouldn't have been there at all.

or

- Cithrich shouldn't be here at all.

[Ebenstone]

Wrote a blog post a few days ago about abandoning a project and moving on to a new one.

http://johnzeleznik.blogspot.com/2013/08/the-short-life-of-dead-project.html

[First of My Name]

I'm back from vacation now, and I can't wait to get started on writing again.

Also, I need advice:

The prologue for one of my books feels like it could be better. It's about a 5 year-old boy shooting and killing his father, as he thinks death is only a better place which someone goes to. I'm wondering if it's over the top. Could anyone give advice or opinion?

Here it is:

Prologue:

Death to the family

Papa had to die.

The boy stalked toward the closed door, set on killing his father today.

He walked down the hallway like a predator closing in on prey. This day was already a long time coming. But now the time had finally come.

He was five years old, and his mother was not home. His brother was downstairs. His father was alone in that room there. And he had finally managed to get the gun that his father stored in the attic for emergencies. It was too big for his small hands, but he knew how to operate it. Two weeks ago there had been a break-in, and he had seen his father retrieve the weapon to fight the intruders. The thieves, who had thought that no one was home, had been shot after a short chase. They were taken away and his father had said that they now no one would hurt him: they were dead, a word that the boy had heard before, but he now knew the full significance of. If someone was dead, you were rid of him, they could not annoy you. That was what it meant. That was what papa said. Sometimes you had to kill someone to get rid of them, so they wouldn’t annoy you anymore. They were "in a better place" or something and the killer was happy, so killing was fine, something good.

And he remembered very well, what had happened next: his father explained that if bad men came again and there was no adult at home, he had to grab the weapon immediately. It was something that you could punish people with. Naughty people. He had told him where it was stored and explained to him how to use it. His mother had been furious. But she was not here now.

Never again would his father impose his will. He was fed up. Never again would he say what the boy should and should not do. He was not in charge of the boy. The boy was his own boss, and no one would ever play the boss over him. It was finally time.

Autem Holden sat in his den, at the end of the same corridor where his son was now. He sat hunched over at his desk, filled with regret and sorrow, and he cried. What had he done? What had he done?

Ame would never forgive him. He had betrayed her, and could not undo it. He had cheated on her, and he wanted with all his heart that he had not done it. If Ame found out, their marriage was over, he was sure of it. She was too proud to stay with him. What would he do? Remain with this cursed woman, Lia? But she had left the city a few days ago, that was not an option ... what if Ame would never know? Could he talk with her, be with her, in the knowledge that he had her trust and betrayed his promises?

No, I could not ... and he would not tell her lies. Even these minutes had been unbearable. Cheated on her ... and Ame was always so good to him ... how could he do this?

In his mind immediately all kinds of excuses begun to form - I didn’t know what I was doing, I was out of my mind, she made me - but he knew that he himself was responsible for this.

And he owed Ame truth. That was the least he could do.

In fact, he would do it now. He could hold this out no longer. He would get his coat, and immediately go after her. She was with her friend, Cori, who lived nearby ...

His coat was in his bedroom, he remembered. Get it, and then find his wife to say, I'm cheating on you with Lia Surfer.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. Damn, the children, that he had forgotten. He walked down the corridor, but he saw no one. "Kyp?" He cried. "Is that you? Dal?"

On the way to Ame, he would ask their neighbor, Mrs. Cora, to keep an eye on things, she always did that with pleasure.

He walked to the bedroom door ... which was already open ... why, he wondered ....

"Dad?" The boy opened the door. He saw no one.

He walked carefully, silently, inside.

The bed against the wall. The large window on the right. Cupboard in the wall opposite him.

Where is he?

If his father saw him with the gun, he would take it immediately. It had to happen quickly and unexpectedly.

Where are you? The boy became frustrated.

Suddenly he heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy footsteps. That could be only one person.

He pointed the weapon at the doorway.

"Kyp?" came the voice of his father. "Is that you? Dal? "

The boy did not respond to the mention of his name, but stilled his thoughts and focused only on death.

His father came closer ... closer ... a little ...

The boy pulled the trigger.

The next moment Autem hit the ground while a furious pain took possession of his body. He clutched his chest. When he saw Dal, with Autem's own gun in his tiny hands, an endless series of questions and panic, and that horrific white-hot pain were the only things he knew ...

He wanted to scream ...

And the last thing his gray eyes saw was his eldest son who looked happy, triumphant, for what he had done. The pain was less now but Autem knew he was dying, and he wanted to cry, to Ame and Kyp and Lia, a warning or a message, last words ... but it wouldn’t come. They were not there.

And vaguely he wondered what would happen to the world, what would happen if he was not there, as he looked into the eyes of his son, and died.

[Hallyington]

Probably change 50 to 5 first.

[First of My Name]

Probably change 50 to 5 first.

Noted!

[The Marquis de Leech]

Cut the stuff in bold.

Prologue:

Death to the family

Papa had to die.

The boy stalked toward the closed door, set on killing his father today.

He walked down the hallway like a predator closing in on prey. This day was already a long time coming. But now the time had finally come.

He was five years old, and his mother was not home. His brother was downstairs. His father was alone in that room there. And he had finally managed to get the gun that his father stored in from the attic for emergencies. It was too big for his small hands, but he knew how to operate it. Two weeks ago there had been a break-in, and he had seen his father retrieve the weapon to fight the intruders. The thieves, who had thought that no one was home, had been shot after a short chase. They were taken away and his father had said that they now no one would hurt him: they were dead, a word that the boy had heard before, but he now knew the full significance of. If someone was dead, you were rid of him, they could not annoy you. That was what it meant. That was what papa said. Sometimes you had to kill someone to get rid of them, so they wouldn’t annoy you anymore. They were "in a better place" or something and the killer was happy, so killing was fine, something good.

And he remembered very well, what had happened next: his father explained that if bad men came again and there was no adult at home, he had to grab the weapon immediately. It was something that you could punish people with. Naughty people. He His father had told him where it was stored and explained to him how to use it. His mother had been furious. But she was not here now.

Never again would his father impose his will. He was fed up. Never again would he his father say what the boy should and should not do. He was not in charge of the boy. The boy was his own boss, and no one would ever play the boss over him. It was finally time.

Autem Holden sat in his den, at the end of the same corridor where his son was now. He sat hunched over at his desk, filled with regret and sorrow, and he cried. What had he done? What had he done?

Ame would never forgive him. He had betrayed her, and could not undo it. He had cheated on her, and he wanted with all his heart that he had not done it. If Ame found out, their marriage was over, he was sure of it. She was too proud to stay with him. What would he do? Remain with this cursed woman, Lia? But she had left the city a few days ago, that was not an option ... what if Ame would never know? Could he talk with her, be with her, in the knowledge that he had her trust and betrayed his promises?

No, I could not ... and he would not tell her lies. Even these minutes had been unbearable. Cheated on her ... and Ame was always so good to him ... how could he do this?

In his mind immediately all kinds of excuses begun to form - I didn’t know what I was doing, I was out of my mind, she made me - but he knew that he himself was responsible for this.

And he owed Ame truth. That was the least he could do.

In fact, he would do it now. He could hold this out no longer. He would get his coat, and immediately go after her. She was with her friend, Cori, who lived nearby ...

His coat was in his bedroom, he remembered. Get it, and then find his wife to say, I'm cheating on you with Lia Surfer.

He heard footsteps in the hallway. Damn, the children, that he had forgotten. He walked down the corridor, but he saw no one. "Kyp?" He cried. "Is that you? Dal?"

On the way to Ame, he would ask their neighbor, Mrs. Cora, to keep an eye on things, she always did that with pleasure.

He walked to the bedroom door ... which was already open ... why, he wondered ....

"Dad?" The boy opened the door. He saw no one.

He walked carefully, silently, inside.

The bed against the wall. The large window on the right. Cupboard in the wall opposite him.

Where is he?

If his father saw him with the gun, he would take it immediately. It had to happen quickly and unexpectedly.

Where are you? The boy became frustrated.

Suddenly he heard footsteps in the hallway. Heavy footsteps. That could be only one person.

He pointed the weapon at the doorway.

"Kyp?" came the voice of his father. "Is that you? Dal? "

The boy did not respond to the mention of his name, but stilled his thoughts and focused only on death.

His father came closer ... closer ... a little ...

The boy pulled the trigger.

The next moment Autem hit the ground while a furious pain took possession of his body. He clutched his chest. When he saw Dal, with Autem's own gun in his tiny hands, an endless series of questions and panic, and that horrific white-hot pain were the only things he knew ...

He wanted to scream ...

And the last thing his gray eyes he saw was his eldest son who looked happy, looking triumphant, for what he had done. The pain was less now but Autem knew he was dying, and he wanted to cry, to Ame and Kyp and Lia, a warning or a message, last words ... but it wouldn’t come. They were not there.

And vaguely he wondered what would happen to the world, what would happen if he was not there, as he looked into the eyes of his son, and died.

[The Marquis de Leech]

Also, be careful in switching between point of views. Who is "he" in a given context?

[Ebenstone]

Can we keep the excerpts and requests for advice to the writing board? Thanks.

[First of My Name]

Cut the stuff in bold.

Also, be careful in switching between point of views. Who is "he" in a given context?

Thank you for the feedback.

The points of view are Dal-Autem-Dal-Autem. Maybe I need to name their names more often.