Critique #134 — Lucien Frost
Kevin Andrew Murphy June 15th, 2007
Golden light swept the extravagant walls in waves. Paintings and silhouettes created streamed pathways that pulsed in the coming night. A singe breeze swept across the floor. Intertwining between his toes and for the next moments not even the fire could stop his chill.
Dark is a night when nothing feels right.
He thought the words without even meaning to. A product of his life, that phrase had always been with him, it seemed. It was pressed into his subconscious for reasons he couldn’t remember, by people he could not recall. His breath was heavy with many of them, all dark inside his closed eyes, but he couldn’t speak. His breath caught in a gasp as the chill reached his lungs. The boy was close. Would they come for him as they so promised they would, would they search the very dungeons of the world for the sole purpose of snuffing out a single insignificant life? Was a solitary soul not insignificant in the scope of a lifetime of the world?
Lucien,
I’m generally a sucker for grandiloquent trappings except when the fade into pompous waffle. Add misspellings and bad grammar in the first paragraph and you really turn me off.
First off, “singe” in place of “single” in the third sentence? Bad lazy writer who can’t be bothered to proofread their own work, leaving it to an idiot spellchecking program which unsurprisingly proofreads like an idiot. I’m already smarting from that when I stumble across a sentence fragment: “Intertwining between his toes and for the next moments not even the fire could stop his chill.”
Why on earth did you choose this construction? The sentences fit together easily as “A single breeze swept across the floor, intertwining between his toes. For the next [few] moments, not even the fire could stop his chill.”
Of course I had to drop in the missing “few.”
Anyway, getting back to the beginning: I was intrigued by the “extravagant walls,” but we heard nothing more about them, and I don’t know whether they’re covered with watered silk, rosewood paneling, or exquisite frescoes by medieval monks. Instead, I hear about “paintings” which do not denote “extravagant walls” but at best “extravagantly ornamented walls.”
Anyway, the portentiously rhyming “Dark is a night when nothing feels right” line alone by itself could work if everything else before had been clicking along, but since it isn’t, it reads at pretentious rather than portentious, and that’s not a good thing.
Then on to the next paragraph, where, after hearing that he’s been hearing the portentious/pretentious line his whole life, we get this inadvertent horror story:
WTF? He’s not only eaten the people he can’t recall, but he’s breathing inside his eyelids? No, that’s not what you meant, but it’s what I’m reading. Grammar. Syntax. Please, learn to use them.
The thing that really annoys me, however, is the fact that I’m perfectly happy with your premise. The boy alone by the fire at sunset in the lavish room with the wind coming in and touching his toes while he shivers in dread about the distantly remembered creepy people who are coming to get him? That’s all good fun suspense. But it’s falling down with bad grammar, bad spelling, clunky syntax, and various other infelicities which make the Sturm und Drang mood laughable rather than evocative.
In short, I’m not turning the page. Not because I don’t want to hear the story, but because I can’t bring myself to wince through the way you’re telling it.
Lucien,
I very much like the mood in this piece–I have this clear sense of dread and regret from the POV character, which would be enough to draw me into the story, but like Kevin, I stumbled over the many typos and prose glitches.
Kevin has noted the main problems. I would only add that, apart from the intriguing mood, I found the setting and setup somewhat vague. So I have some questions you might want to ask yourself, to see what kind of (if any) specifics you could add to anchor this piece in a particular time and setting and story.
Where is this scene taking place–a palace? A mansion? A temple?
If the golden light is sweeping the walls, why all this talk about darkness? Or is the light lamplight?
Who *is* the viewpoint character? What is he doing here? Are “they” coming for him, or for the boy? Does anyone here have a name?
You have an intro with a lot of potential. It just needs polish and clarity to snap into focus.
–Beth
I’m not sure I understood the premise. “The boy was close” made me think that the boy was close to the PoV character, not that he thought of himself (or that the narrator thought of him) as “the boy:. It sounds like you’re trying too hard to “sounds like a writer.” Just sound like you’re trying to tell a story and be done with the purple prose. I’d like more details and less generalizations. The cold wind freezing his toes is good. I couldn’t picture “Paintings and silhouettes created streamed pathways that pulsed in the coming night.” Paintings of what?
Kevin,
I needed to take a step back for a moment to take in your critique. I will not play at being an English major. I surely have much to learn in the way of Syntax.
As I read in pieces what you had to say I could not decide whether I wanted to throttle you or thank you. I am aware of much of the grammatical catastrophes present in my work (more now than ever). In my angst to see an exquisite set of writers critique my work. I most definitely laid a lazy hand across my old work.
The thought of only having thirteen lines to turn an interest is a new concept to me. Exasperating as it may be I never thought of it that way. I will lay a more careful hand down in the future. I pray I do not disappoint in such a way again, and that I can bring that latent interest back to spark and blaze.
Lucien,
Not meaning to pile on here, but I keep coming back to this because, like Ivy and Beth, I like the mood. It’s the prose trappings that are getting in the way.
Beth rightly points out that we don’t know the exact setting: a mansion, a temple, a palace, a what? And Ivy also points out that we don’t know what the paintings are of. What you’re missing here is one of the oldest and richest tricks in the book, the one that lets you imply the setting by quickly describing items in it. Also, you can get a clearer image just by snapping focus with the right words. For example, you could rewrite the first two sentences to something like:
Golden light slanted across the extravagantly ornamented walls. Paintings/Portraits/Icons of faded emperors/distant ancestors/forgotten saints created silhouettes, portending the coming night.
It’s not just a matter of using lush verbiage but using the right lush verbiage, conjuring the exact image you want to project at the same time as the mood you wish to invoke.
I’d really like to read this cleaned up and polished to what it could be.
Lucien,
Cross-posted with your last.
You can want to throttle me if you like, but it’s generally best form just to thank someone and grit your teeth.
The point of the whole exercise here is that we’re going to tell you what the editors may think but will be too polite to say–sometimes. There are some editors who are famous for not mincing words, and I will report that I once won a contest for “nastiest rejection letter” that I’d personally received (I was told however that was only because everyone else there hadn’t dared show their letters from another editor, who was even nastier).
Anyway, with “I will not play at being an English major,” being an English major is easy: It just takes a bunch of classes, a pile of reading and a pile of essays. And it’s also worth noting that formal education is hardly necessary; I know plenty of published writers who taught themselves grammar and syntax in addition to plain ordinary writing.
Looking forward to your next sample.
Kevin
Kevin, Ivy, and Beth
I appreciate all that you have said and pointed out. I’ve been working longer than I have in a very long time on my work. To be honest I haven’t touched storytelling for near half a year now, though it’s never out of my mind. Your comments were refreshing to say the least! You can consider the throttling a most sincer form of thank you. As for the revision, there is alot that everyone seemed to misunderstand about the whole senario so I will try again with all of your suggestions as well. Its going to be very different (i think) for you. So open mind everyone.
Golden light from the caves fireplace swept the gaudily embellished rock in waves. Heraldic tapestries of each tribe fell from the celings; Severn, Waloc, even the banished Darine were represented. Swords and mirrors pinned at unmeasured intervals spread light where the fire did not reach. Yet the finest Grandar craftsmen hands had been laid upon his cliff face hide out, so as to give it a royal look. Where rock did not suffice to adequately fill in a portion of wall, polished Tensiron Redwood took its place.Tile laid on the floor was designed in Cheiftain fashion, and surrounding the mantle piece, paintings and silhouettes were placed and hung. In an odd manner, the layout created streamed pathways between them, which pulsed in the coming night. The light seemed to lead from one great struggle to the next, one mighty hero to his mighty offspring. The starry night of Din Dolvek, where Luko Ulvec clashed with the thousand snakes of Darklin valley. The black night of Din Finl Ni…Jarak…Belial. His mind halted as they sratched on thoughts to dangerous to remember. A single breeze swept across the floor intertwining between his toes. For the next few moments not even the fire could stop his chill. “Dark is a night when nothing feels right…” Jerran spoke the words without even meaning to. The quirks of his old age seemed utterly afflicted by craft. Phrase was a product of habit as a Chronicler. Wrinkled flaps began to flutter with prose but he couldn’t speak.The boy was nearby.
Lucien,
Your new version is much improved, but needs to be pared back and also punctuated and spelled correctly. For example, “the caves fireplace” should be “the cave’s fireplace” and “mantle piece” should be “mantelpiece,” one word, not two, and remember that “mantel” is the shelf over a fireplace whereas “mantle” a cloak worn about the shoulders. Similarly, “his cliff face hide out” should be “his cliff-face hideout.”
Check dictionary.com
Dictionary.com is your friend.
http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hideout
I get very cross when I see misspellings and bad punctuation because they make me question my own spelling and punctuation, and that’s something I don’t want to have to do. Moreover, many editors have the same reaction, so why do it? It’s not like it wins you any points. Certainly not in this business.
Anyway, on to the rewrite. This is much better and more interesting except for being overwritten. Cut it down to about half the details and sentences. You can convey the scene in less easily.
Also, on syntax. It is worth pointing out this line here:
A single breeze swept across the floor intertwining between his toes.
You’re missing a comma after “floor.” Without it, it’s the floor intertwining between his toes, as opposed to the breeze intertwining between his toes.
If you don’t understand why this is, read it aloud. The comma goes where you put a natural pause to indicate the proper syntax.
I’m having trouble picturing a cave with a fireplace (which would, I think, necessitate a chimney). A firepit and a smokehole, sure.
“His mind halted as they sratched on thoughts to dangerous to remember.”
In what way is memory dangerous? I like the idea. I just want to know why.
I’m curious, but I feel like I’m being held at arm’s length. I don’t know what any of the in-world references like Chronicler, Darine, Cheiftain fashion. So I feel like I’m not quite being allowed into the story. OTOH I want to be allowed in. I think there’s a good story sitting there.
Ivy,
The real problem here is that Kevin is asking for less to make more and your asking for more to make more. I know you don’t understand the in-world references Chronicler in an actual context is simply someone who records information, don’t think to deeply on it. The actual job of a Chronicler isn’t much more than that. Darine is one of the tribes of the world.
Heraldic tapestries of each tribe fell from the ceilings; Severn, Waloc, even the banished Darine were represented.
Darine is essentially a group of people, like the Waloc and the Severn. I know you don’t know why they were banished but you find out, the main point of mentioning them is more to show wthat the old man you are hearing about has seen the world, as he has memorabilia from all of these places.
If the peoples of the world communities are in tribes the most common name for the leader is a Chieftain. To say that its in the Chieftain fashion is just to show the importance of the old man that his place of hiding would be designed as a “Kings”.
I know that you would like to know why memories are dangerous or how that’s even possible. That takes a bit more explaining than thirteen lines can give you.(Actually I think the revise was more like 15 *cringes*) As a matter of fact it’s kind of one of the main points of the story. Unfortunately I think you shall have to turn the page. You want in, so I think you will turn.
I’m flattered by your interest.
I love the story.
OTOH to pare it back is a daunting thought, I find that I see perhaps some words that could fall away or maybe some sentences that could be combined, but is there something that is out of place in the thirteen lines?
Punctuation and grammar I think I can find my way to working out those bad habits with my new friend Dictionary.com.
The cutting it down is throwing me for a loop…
I have to say I’m blown away by this community it seems very helpful and a lot of fun to be apart of.
Lucien,
I sympathize with your frustration about how much detail to keep or pare away.
The key is to choose vivid details that will sketch the scene for the reader. But, especially at the start of your story, you need to keep that number small. Otherwise, the story gets lost in the description, the pacing slows too much, and if you include lots of unfamiliar terms or backstory, you risk raising too many questions in the reader’s mind.
So here, what you want to do is trim away the excess, not add more explanation. Leave only the details that advance the story and establish character and setting. And if there’s a question about what to keep, ask yourself if the reader really needs to know that particular detail in that particular scene.
I, too, wondered about a fancy fireplace set up in a cave. But it probably is possible. Anyway, I think the point that people are trying to make is: “say more with less.” For example, ‘Chieftain fashion’ may mean something to you, but it doesn’t help us visualize the scene. The details I use are wrong, of course, but this is an example that might help demonstrate:
I agree with Debbie. The chieftan line doesn’t say much. What would be typical for akha tribe would seem odd for an Apache tribe. I didn’t even catch that it was his memorabelia. I thought the place was designed for him.
Let me play with a few things.
Golden light from the caves fireplace swept the gaudily embellished rock in waves.
“Gaudily embellished” doesn’t tell me anything. This can shrink to “The gold-encrusted walls of the cave undulated with reflected firelight.”
“Heraldic tapestries of each tribe fell from the celings; Severn, Waloc, even the banished Darine were represented. ”
I would kill everything after the semi-colon. You don’t need it yet. I would change “fell” to “draped” or “hung” but I don’t think it’s all that important.
Swords and mirrors pinned at unmeasured intervals spread light where the fire did not reach.
I like that line.
Yet the finest Grandar craftsmen hands had been laid upon his cliff face hide out, so as to give it a royal look.
This tells me nothing. Grandar craftsmen can think a royal look is bare, with a single ink painting or flower in the corner to hold the eye ala a Japanese tea room or could favor an explosion of color in a style more typical of Mexico. I don’t need a lot here, but a bit would be nice. “so as to give it a royal look” is excess in the face of “the finest Grandar craftsmen” so maybe
Yet the finest Grandar craftmen had carved the cliff face hide out so in tune with the stone so as not to know where man’s work ended and nature’s bagan.
I’m not sure what kind of thing your craftsmen did.
Where rock did not suffice to adequately fill in a portion of wall, polished Tensiron Redwood took its place.
Nice.
Tile laid on the floor was designed in Cheiftain fashion, and surrounding the mantle piece, paintings and silhouettes were placed and hung.
I dislike how the second part of the sentence is inverted. ”
“The floor was tiled in ivory and rare turquoise; paintings of long-dead chieftains framed the mantelpiece” That gives you more detail in fewer words.
In an odd manner, the layout created streamed pathways between them, which pulsed in the coming night.
I don’t understand. Light moves, that’s true, but it doesn’t appear to move. So perhaps it’s just that the eye is drawn along from one painting to another? I’m a little lost here.
The light seemed to lead from one great struggle to the next, one mighty hero to his mighty offspring. The starry night of Din Dolvek, where Luko Ulvec clashed with the thousand snakes of Darklin valley.
I’m fine with this because we have just a hint of what we need to know.
The black night of Din Finl Ni…Jarak…Belial.
I’m lost once the ellipses begin. Jarak is a villiage in Serbia. Okay. Belial’s a pretty well known demon. If you’re using them as king’s names, I’d avoid Belial unless you want the person to be perceived as evil.
His mind halted as they sratched on thoughts to dangerous to remember.
I don’t see how thoughts can scratch. I guess I just want a hint here as to how thoughts can be dangerous.
He stopped himself. They would hear such thoughts.
Or
He snapped himself to the present with force before the trance of the Chroniclers could overtake him.
Something like that.
A single breeze swept across the floor intertwining between his toes.
I like the image here.
For the next few moments not even the fire could stop his chill. “Dark is a night when nothing feels right…†Jerran spoke the words without even meaning to.
I like this part.
The quirks of his old age seemed utterly afflicted by craft.
I don’t understand this sentence.
Phrase was a product of habit as a Chronicler.
Again, I’m not sure what you mean.
Wrinkled flaps began to flutter with prose but he couldn’t speak.The boy was nearby.
I take it wrinkled flaps are his lips? I like Debbie’s rewrite on this line a lot.
By choosing specific details you can tell us a lot more, often with fewer words.
My 2 cents anyway.
Ivy, Beth, and Debbie,
I can see your points and I am adjusting some things accordingly. I’m working all day today so this is the only moment I have free. You won’t see anything new on this matter until a few days from now. I’ll post another revise, I hope my reposting doesn’t bother anyone as to I’m trying to take what everyone is saying and learn what lesson can be taught. The site says to wait a week to submit new material so in that time I’ll put up a new piece to argue over. I’m very grateful for everyone’s input. See everyone soon.
Everyone,
We all know that I’m not quite versed in syntax as a professional should be, but I thought I’d give this one more stab. This will be the last revision of this particular thirteen lines. As I’m sure we are all ready for something new.
Smokeless flames of the grotto fireplace flounced upon the rock wall. The charmed light danced upon swords, mirrors, heraldic tapestries; and flashed their indignant symbols into dark corners. All seven tribes were equally represented in his collection. To each the old man offered a scowl, and the flame diminished a shade accordingly. “What a pity.â€
Where rock did not fill in missing wall or caved ground, polished redwood took its place. Golden tile left the impression of fiery circles that shimmered like portals to other times and places. Paintings of great deeds were hung near the mantelpiece. Light guided his gaze from one great struggle to the next, one great hero to greater offspring.
“The starry night of Din Dolvek when Luko Ulvec clashed with the thousand snakes of Darklin Valley. The black night of Din Finl Ni when—“
A single breeze swept across the floor, intertwining between his toes. For the next few moments not even the fire could stop his chill.
“Jarak Ulvec–”
His memory halted too late.
“Death…â€