I currently have a WIP sitting at around 20k words. It was my first ever attempt at writing, and I did that in around three days - but over those three days my writing style significantly changed as to how I was writing (I guess that makes it sound like I moved from sitting down to doing a handstand while typing, but that's an accurate mental metaphor I suppose). My problem being, I like both parts of that one piece of work, and I can see flaws in both which I can work on. The issue at hand, is that I am deliberating over whether to use that as a tool. Each part is significantly dominated by two different characters, and I'm wondering whether to use that to highlight their sections in the book, although my concern lies with the whiplash of two different styles and whether they will be jarring, or compete with each other.
Please correct me if I misunderstand, but it appears you're asking: "My writing style changed dramatically while writing a WIP story. In one half, there are these problems in that style. In the other half, there are problems in that style as well." If my interpretation of this is correct, then I must say you should go with one character and re-mold the story to where it revolves around them. That is, if you desire. There are books where there is two or more main protagonists, and they work well. I am certain it won't be "jarring" readers and they certainly won't "compete with each other." I hope this helps.
Each character is completely different, one's a scientist, one's a prototype combat robot. The skinny is: The scientist's daughter so far has been kidnapped by criminals with a psychic asset (they're extremely rare, and their extra abilities potent but random). He signed himself up to a psychic defence project with the story's science bureau to develop anti-psychic weapons. He develops an experimental robot that is highly robust and capable of defending and detecting psionic attacks. The robot develops a consciousness and is slated for deactivation and salvage, at which point it escapes. The scientist is a major character, but the robot is the main character The scientist is incredibly jaded, and the robot has never experienced life or the world before, so every place and emotion is new to it. The idea is the robot shows us the world and the raw emotion it feels at every sight, and the scientist shows us the deeper, darker and more complex grander picture of the world. Edit: Saying all that, I might re-write the robot's part just to clean it up and homogenize it with the other sections slightly.
Here's an example of both: Scientist - Daddy? Her voice echoes through the recesses of his memory as he stares out of the window in his office. Aerial cars whizz by below him from his seat in the high-rise building, the fluorescent, neon glow of shop signs, advertisements and street lights illuminate the streets far below to the point that nothing is discernable except for the shifting change of coloured light. Years had passed since she was taken. His face has aged, his hair grey, the wrinkles on his face etched onto his face a frown, and not a trace of ever having smiled. The terminal on his desk trills a steady beat. He lets it ring for a while before answering, still staring out of the window in lost thought around what is about to happen. The culmination and final destination of his life’s work. “What?” He answers rudely as he depresses the communicate button, any trace of the loving tone that filled his voice before lost to time since passed. “Sorry for the disturbance Dr. Friedman. Team 6 has readied the cage and are prepared and standing by, as you requested.” His assistant replied, clearly used to his tone. He let go of the communicator, ending the call, and returned to stare out of the window before getting up and casually walking out of his dark office and into the halogen white network of halls interconnecting the facility around him. Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness, a sneer creeps onto his face, and he opens his bloodshot eyes, the shadow of his palm only emphasising the dark bags shadowing them. He reaches out and grabs a tablet notepad from the wall recess next to his door and tucks it under his arm before marching off down the hallway, his white coat flourishing behind him at his furious pace. He turns halls, passing chevroned door after door, before coming to a set of huge double doors with ‘Secure Containment’ emblazoned along hazard markings. “Open the bloody door.” He says aggressively after he thumbs down on the keypad next to it. It bleeps at him shortly after he releases the button and the mechanisms in the door hiss and whine as the secure locks disengage and the door slowly and heavily rolls out of the way for him. The room before him is dark like his office, but the bustle and rush of people moving about the dimly flashing terminals is a harsh contrast to the distance and solitude of his office hideaway. One of them spots his silhouette at the door, their conversation masked by the surgical helmets most of them are wearing. Gradually, they all begin noticing, and the business that preceded his presence fades away as they all stand to stare at the wide open door flooding the room with light. Walking nonchalantly into the room he stops as the doors automatically slide together. “Well, keep going. Let's get this freakshow on the road shall we?” The grinding of the security doors locks punctuating his question, he claps his hands together. “COME ON PEOPLE.” He shouts, startling a few as they jump from inaction back to their respective terminals. The sheer disdain on his face unhidden, he ambles slowly into the center of the room. Gradually turning on the spot he surveys the room around him, like a hawk staring at it’s prey. “Such insufferable incompetence…” He sighs as he massages his forehead. Robot - Liquid. I feel liquid around me, floating in it. It feels warm, it feels safe. A gentle hum builds in my ears, clicking and crackling gently, like feedback, then sharply comes back in full. I can hear the muted voices of people, their clarity failing to penetrate the viscous fluid surrounding me in suspension. There's more than one of them, more like a small crowd. Maybe twenty people? No. Twenty five to the person. Seven female, eighteen male. I don't know how I know this, It seems odd knowing that with such certainty. I feel a gentle tug that pulls on me from below, the liquid around me shifts. It's draining away, and with some internal admonition, I regret that it's leaving me. I can feel myself getting heavier, no longer dangling in that warm cocoon. I am dangling. Why am I dangling? What's holding me up? I'm not standing up but….I can't feel the floor. I open my eyes tentatively, and am greeted by nothing but solid and implacable darkness. Where before I felt safe in the darkness, now I feel uncertain. I begin to move gently, but my muscles are heavy and leaden. If it were my choice I would be probing with my arms wildly, just to achieve some kind of purchase, and feel something solid around me. They feel heavy, like they've never been used before, and it's difficult for me to co-ordinate myself, but I feel myself struggling loosely against thin air. There's nothing surrounding my body. “Release interface chords, two through ten.” A voice commands out of the blackness. Pain. Such pain as I have never felt before. Punctuated by a hiss and a slow whir, I feel my weight shift as the cords release and unscrew themselves from my back. My mind screams in terror flecked and spurred to ever increasing heights with the pain. An eternity passes by as they gradually release and sickeningly pop free, shifting my weight back to me, and leaving me swaying in the air with each one, the vertigo of that endless black plaguing my vision making me sick. My struggling dies away in the face of this, and leaves me hanging limp in the hope it will be over soon. “Disengage suspension couplings and begin bringing on primary nodes three through ten.” That same voice again. A new wave of panic comes over me as the connection of that voice and the pain reinforces itself in my mind, I begin to attempt to struggle again, but the loud noise of metal snapping against metal punctuates my release. I fall. It feels like forever, descending through an endless void with no light to mark my fall, until I slam heavily against the floor with a resounding thud that leaves the air reverberating, as if contained in a small space. I lie there on the ground, afraid to move for the consequence of angering the unknown voice, and feel parts of my body start to gently whirr. “Beginning primary node boot-up. Nodes three through seven, green.” A different voice now. “Nodes eight and nine halted at 65%, node ten not recognising boot-up sequence. Re-initialising boolean stream…..Showing 100% packet loss. Node ten is non responsive.” The voices are back, murmuring in the background. “Stream through the other nodes,” The voice of pain. My body convulses as white hot agony courses through it, like lightning. Over and over again. “Reroute the stream through node eight and nine, see if we can get those to 100%.” I am tortured by the sound of that voice. When will it stop? When will I be spared from the pain? Why do I deserve this? What did I do?
Ah, I understand now. All you have to do is spellcheck it, and revise any grammatical mistakes. As long as it's written right, these two perspectives shouldn't conflict with each other.
