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Let me offer you a second pair of eyes! In general the advice for a draft is to cut words wherever possible, so i'll focus on suggestions for that.Abundant Atrophy posted:“Now approaching,” The conductor said over the intercom. He paused and a different, deeper voice finished, “Frostivale, station 55.” Too many words for such a mundane detail, you could cut it and not lose anything. quote:For those in the dining car it was a last call on orders both alcohol and food. How about "That meant last call for orders in the dining car" quote:The stout man across from Pars took a sip of red wine from his glass, “Ah, almost there; are ye excite?” "Pars' coach took a sip..." "responding to the stout man in..." This construction explains his identity first, it's not a mystery and gives a clearer first impression than a physical description. quote:The man nodded. His green vest complimented the red cushioned booth. Her prior winnings had paid for winter-wear for both he and she, and he wore the goose-down coat wrapped around his shoulders. “Well ye could stand to look it.” He went back to his dinner of fish and potatoes, “bah, I don’t know what’s colder, out there,” he motioned with his fork, “this food, or your attitude.” I recommend omitting background details like this if they don't evoke a strong image or relate to something else. If the coach was a fashionista or they were eating an unusual regional specialty, it might be worth pointing out. Otherwise let the reader do the work of imagining. quote:Pars took no offense and let her mind wander back to the passing scenery. Snow covered pines passed in an evergreen blur with the purple mountain range as a backdrop. I like this description better because she's actively looking out the window and it gives important information about where we are. I don't care that the cushion is red, but this is a nice image that situates things. quote:Regrettably, she didn't know the name of the mountains. The skies were a stark blue and through spots in the moving tree line she spotted a flock of birds. They were specks against the blue flying toward station 55. Were they migratory? Were they coming home or fleeing worse weather elsewhere. Pars found it fascinating any animal could scrape a living up here in Snow Country. It was tundra for half the year and only a few months would there be any tourism. Pars wrapped her new scarf tighter around her neck to prevent a shiver. She’d be glad to get this tournament over with and be back below the border. Regrettably for who? "She wished she knew the mountain's name" would be active and tell us a tiny bit about Pars' character. quote:“Excuse me?” Since they left the smoggy urban cities of New Prolix, Pars’ mind ran through the rules and strategies she’d seen at the Frozen Blade Arena. While they were old memories, she knew none of which involved being on ice or clobbering. I don't understand the bolded sentence. Also New Prolix is not a good-sounding name IMO, a good rule of thumb for fantasy names is to say it out loud and see if it comes off your tongue naturally. quote:Dale studied her face; he abruptly leaned in close, almost whispering with the bitter wine on his breath, “you’re competing in the Ice Maul Arena, the no-holds-barred, all-for-one fight on a frozen lake.” The image of the coach that's emerging naturally from your descriptions throughout the passage is that he's an aggressive jerk who's using Pars as his meal ticket, and she doesn't feel comfortable around him. If this isn't your intention, revise the words you're using for their descriptions and interactions to be more of a genial, lovable oaf than a guy with "bitter wine on his breath" (which would be a very evocative description for someone Pars dislikes) who's wearing the fine clothes he bought with her winnings. quote:Pars sat back in her seat thinking how this arena would go. How many people is all-for-one? No-holds-barred on a frozen lake sounded like a death sentence. Chillingly, that was likely the point. I understand from watching Pokemon and your references to Arena Names with special rules what Pars is involved in generally, but I don't know what's actually going on in these arenas. Is it like, battle fencing? If it's fencing, you should make that clearer after the "Fencing isn't gonna draw a crowd" line. If it's not fencing, I don't know what these rules apply to and i'm lost. Is "Chillingly" a pun? This sentence isn't really working either way, how about "Or was that the idea?" "Even with the Venom..." sentence doesn't make sense. I think you mean more like "Even the Venom Fang Arena uses a 'non-lethal paralyzing agent', as they put it." quote:“No need to shout.” Dale said, not looking her in the eyes. “So far there have been five deaths: two hypothermia, two drowning, and one to a fight in the audience.” You can just say like "Dale quickly added," it's already clear that he's trying to justify it. quote:She was in disbelief. She buried her face in her hands, “Why is this place still open?” This could be cut to Pars just saying once "How is this death trap still open?!" The "what was that?" exchange doesn't add anything. --- My overall impression of the passage is that you're setting up a world with a negative tone where things are in decline. Apart from your descriptions of the coach as mentioned, i'm getting this from phrases like "glad to get this tournament over with", "smoggy urban cities", "bitter wine on his breath" (protip: there's never anything good "on someone's breath"), "people want more blood sports" because "fencing ain't gonna draw a crowd like it used to sweetie", and generally how Dale very casually talks about death and poisoning and blood sports that Pars is uncomfortable with. I'm getting "Pars doesn't really want to be involved in all this", not "Oh man, what shenanigans has ol' Dale gotten her into this time??" With that mood in mind, that whole early paragraph about weather and Pars wondering about migratory birds is the strongest section of the piece, suggesting a character who vaguely wants to escape her situation but doesn't see a way how- it's a very good little "show" of her inner thoughts that lets the reader draw their own conclusions, nice job! I'm telling you all that so you can compare it to the impression you wanted to create and see if the reader is getting what you want out of your writing. The piece as you've structured it doesn't work as a story in its own right, as there's clearly more to say, but it would be a decent chapter opener or the very first chunk of a short story about the events in Frostivale. Like, from the first line the entire scene is anticipating "Then the train came to a halt and they stepped off into Frostivale." If you were intending for this to be a brief little story in its own right, just a little glimpse into this world, you would want a stronger beat at the very end. Maybe Pars stands up and runs off after the current last line because she's not down with death sports, and Dale knows she'll be back because where would she go. Or maybe you could play on the lack of clarity about what happens in the arena and only confirm that it's a death match at the very end instead of having them discuss it for a paragraph and draw out the shock.
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May 10, 2015 07:46
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I also have something i'd like people to look at. I might submit this to something, so please don't quote the whole thing as a block in case I need to remove it! Specific things I would like crits on: this is 500 words and i'd like it to be <450, where can I cut 50-75? In general, is it clear what's going on moment to moment or do you ever feel lost? Is it clear enough what the woman's "deal" and motives are or does she feel more like an obstacle or nonentity? Should there be a more explicit sense of when and where this is taking place? Are there any lines or phrases that sound bad or make you roll your eyes? Thanks for reading! --- Resurrection Body “Do you still know the way out?” The woman didn't answer him. His soldiers and their British rifles didn't seem to disturb her. Arslan grasped fruitlessly at the air. “Out of...here. The flesh. Death.” Her perfect face was uncomprehending, eyes downcast behind a gauzy veil. Was this the muse from the old days? She had to be. How many green-eyed women who trailed sandstorms wherever they walked could there be in Altishahr? “Your 'resurrection body',” he growled. “What you promised him.” An impatient footman tore the veil from her head, she flinched. As the warlord rose to his feet she finally looked up and said: “You mean the Khan.” His mind rippled when their eyes met. But he dismissed it, spat his tobacco past the spitoon, and laughed like a distant uncle one didn't know so well. “Safiya, wayward little moonbeam! All these years, and all that's changed in my domain,” he spread his arms to indicate both the threadbare canvas tent and the bandit-ridden pass outside it, “I thought you'd finished wandering for good. But I still have so much to learn from you!” He could smell it now, scratching his rotten throat: that strange incense the old bastard had always burned so thickly in his traveling court. It somehow stayed on her, all these years later. The footman tentatively reached out, hoping to caress her this time, but Arslan slapped the hand away as he stepped closer. “I don't need all the things you did for him. The poems, the dancing. Nothing soft. Only your alchemy.” Safiya's expression stayed dead as marble, but the sandstorm began to thrash louder against the tent. The men stumbled like drunks to secure the ropes. “You killed your own lord, cut out my heart, and still didn't get what you wanted?” “I am lord now!” Arslan licked his lips, tasting grit. He felt like cutting that tongue out as well, but she had grown too beautiful to draw his dagger. “I made a potion from your shining blood, and I haven't aged a year in a century. But I still bleed. I still scar, and piss, and fear. I'm still mortal!” She wouldn't break eye contact, her eyes emerald, her lips moving. The soldiers were pulling up the tentpoles. Why couldn't he stop talking? “You told the court you knew a way out of your flesh. You promised the Khan an escape from death- a body as pure as the Resurrection. Why only him? I worshiped you! Your sorcery, your grace, your power...” The stars outside danced before his eyes and his soldiers laughed and spun with them. The collapsing tent was choked with stinging dust and sweet incense. Arslan said, “God, I wanted to become you.” Safiya was touching him at last. “Then carry my storm, and i'll carry your skin all the way to resurrection day." And the storm howled as his soul filled up with sand.
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May 10, 2015 08:11
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Thanks! Those are both really helpful and insightful crits, I sincerely appreciated them. I didn't even realize the "Arslan/him/the warlord" referents were confusing, but I completely see it now.
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May 11, 2015 01:28
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