Discussion in 'General Writing' started by Masked Mole, Apr 22, 2016.
That cheeky fiendish bastard!
Ohh don't worry... All of my grandparents were/are Catholic, so at least one of them is bound to meet the minimum requirements for resurrection. They'll pass it on. Though, you may have to wait till the Judgement Day. I hear North Koreans are already putting on the nice pair of shoes (if only they had some), but I put my money (if only they had some of that too) on John Connor.
EDIT: LOL I totally forgot. Someone from my personal harem can do that. Catholics and their Judgement Day are not needed.
The last three from my first middle sized novel.
"Dima gave a sigh, watching his new homeland. It would take some time to get used to happiness, but they were ready to give a try.
And with the seasickness gone for the moment, Dimitri, the former mobster, and Kirilo, the former street boy, fell asleep as little birds resting on the most beautiful tree on the neighborhood, after a long travel across the ocean."
James let the gun fall an inch, which Thomas noticed, and took as a sign of weakness. He leaned in closer to James, “Do it,” He rasped, lips only inches from James’s ear, “He killed George, he killed your best friend.” he insisted, but James knew he probably didn’t kill him, there were so many people shooting, but something about Thomas’s knavish voice made James lift the gun and pull the trigger.
"You mean to tell me all of the blood, sweat and tears we have put into this place are for nothing?" Hannah asked.
"Not nothing, it's meaningful to you," replied Kang.
Hannah said nothing and gazed over the hard-won habitat, verdant green manicured landscapes curved majestically overhead and she was soothed by sounds from the nearby babbling brook; Kang was right, she was home and it mattered.
I'd avoid the repeat of "nothing" in the final sentence, as it's used in the second sentence. Reading it aloud sounds awkward. Perhaps "Hannah silently gazed..." ??
From the ending of a historical novel:
Martens shifted his weight and a sliver of discomfort coursed through his side, a reminder of the bruised ribs he had suffered that first night in combat. A subtle hint, perhaps, of what he was returning to. The nonplussed railway officials stared at the motionless soldiers lining the platform and Martens could only wonder who would be first to stand up.
Feel like perhaps you could reword this to be smoother and/or simpler.
Perhaps you could cut the first sentence down to "a reminder of what he had suffered that first night in combat." given you would already have had that detail earlier. The context already gives a sense of the injury and where it is without that. I wouldn't say you need to cut it as it isn't that long, or particularly tedious, but my first reaction to this segment was that sense of just a little too many details and adjectives. If nothing else, you could improve the rhythm. On that note, are you using nonplussed in the original, or modern american sense? If the first, are they really that surprised the soldiers are being sent to war? Seems like the kind of thing that's hard not to see coming. And if the second, I'd consider something like "dour railway officials watched the soldiers lining the platform". Less attempt at specificity but smoother and more atmospheric. I find, particularly as someone with an Aspergers literalism, that the instinct can be to write with specific and literal details more often than you actually should. Sometimes the even-slightly more poetic style will create more neat and interesting sentences. Of course, sometimes there's the temptation to be flowery in detailed ways when a sort of bluntness can be more evocative in that case. It can be surprisingly obvious what the solution is sometimes when you come at it with a different angle.
The last three-ish lines from chapter two...
“I’ll see you after the show,” Rosemarie said, very softly, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. In the faint distance the orchestra began to play something sweet and melodic.
“Hell’s bells!” Rosemarie turned hard on her heel and made a mad dash in the opposite direction. Gael will have my hide!
The last three lines from chapter three...
The ending will likely be one neither of us sees coming, Valerie thought. She felt inside the placket of her dress and found the ivory handle of her switchblade. The scar on her left buttock twitched in protest.
To tell that you would say: She felt..... to show it you might say: Putting her hand on the smooth ivory handled switch blade, she opened it as it exited her placket. The scar on her left butt cheek twitched in protest.
'Daddy, hurry up, it's starting!'
I smiled, all sense of foreboding suddenly melting away, and took a swig of my tea. Finding myself feeling both much more at ease and more keenly aware of the cold I closed the door, shutting out the storm and the darkness, and headed back into the light.
Without knowing how it applies to the story you can't say much, but I like the flow and the artistry of each line.
I'm not sure how foreboding (a feeling that something bad will happen) and suddenly go together also I would drop one of the 'more' maybe the 'more keenly'.
From WIP . . .
I had to stoke the fire, haul wood to dry cover. The southern sky's the purple-black of a bruised liver. Going to be a hell of a storm.
It's an epistolatory piece written as a radio recording. The MC has just broken his transmission to prepare for the storm, so this line is something of an apology as he returns to the mike. The recording is his confession. He's detailing his part in ending the world while he tries to avoid the inevitable. The story's sci-fi/horror. I'm 4000 words in . . . 4000 to go?
I've got this idea for a series of related shorts revolving around a university. It's kind of like Arkham U (in spirit but non-Mythos). Because of how I've written these, the stories overlap and can borrow from one another too, even if a particular story ends in doomsday (they usually do). That way I can have recurring characters, but the MC is never plot-armored, safe from harm.
"There's a reason God made the devil stronger than man." The wind swept around Ara. "I think we'll rule a long time."
"Do not try and come for us, you will not succeed!” Isake dropped his voice, “men take their heads, then leave, go via the tunnels out of here, Caspiar, Kilnir and I will lead.” They nodded and the three of them set off at a run, going past where Kilnir kept Isake’s belongings, they grabbed them along with the things that Kilnir needed, jumped onto horses and headed into the tunnels and off towards Jasmithr.
this is the last three sentences of Order Of The Black, which I'm currently giving a huge overhaul to, so this may not actually be the last three lines of this book once I'm done with the rewrite
As with my post on this thread's inspiration, this is from my most recent short horror story.
It was done, I lost. I could finally rest. As the blackness engulfed my vision and I felt my legs starting to give out, I saw a sinister smile inadvertently creep across my face, and then, nothing.
I posted the beginning of my prologue in the first three sentences thread, and since I haven't finished the last chapter, I guess it's best to post the last three sentences of the prologue as well!
A gentle hand turned his face away from the pyre. Tears had carved their way through the dust on Selaphiel’s cheeks.
“Come with me,” she murmured, as the bells continued to ring all around them.
I hugged her, and asked her what was wrong. She told me she was homesick, and dreaded what had become of her mother. I missed my parents as well, but dwelling on it wouldn't do me any good. Emo much?
I am nowhere near finished with my book, but here is the last three sentences I have written:
Finally, he donned his vest, and stepped in front of his mirror, but he didn’t look at his suit, or tie, or hair. The scar on his neck was hideously distracting, coiled around his collar and kissing his chin and left ear, blazing from underneath his shirt. It was a harsh reminder of the dreadful choices he had made, leaving scraps of a guilt-riddled man behind.
@ThyRivalPoet I liked it. I would drop 'his mirror' and replace it with 'a mirror.'
ETA Welcome to the forum
Some time had passed since Miguel had shipped out, and with his help, we bought our own place and set up a medical office. A smile crossed my face when I thought about my life. I understood that this might not have been the family I had dreamed of, but it was the best one I could have hoped for.
Work in progress .
I'm not going to bore you with all the details, it's McCluckin's. Hot grease burns skin, Zack is a fucking fairy, and the place smells like fish. Now let's focus on the important stuff, the superhero stuff.
@frigocc That feels like a leading line instead of a conclusion, Is there a book 2?
Nope. Still a work in progress This is like page 4 lol
Since my story is fished I’ll give this another crack. Sorry for the spoilers. (not sorry)
A withered wreath lay agianst the stone. “Lyla made this with Rose,” Isabella said. Violet nodded, smiling as tears dropped from her cheeks. “It’s time for us to make our own wreath.”
Separate names with a comma.