StillStunned
Scruffy word herder
- Joined
- Jun 4, 2023
- Posts
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What always strikes me about the best sword & sorcery stories is when the opening paragraphs paint such a vivid picture of the local colour and the mood that for the rest of the story the author only needs to provide the sparsest of detail. This means that when the action begins you're not getting bogged down in describing the background.Ok, fair enough. But I still think the practise of using one intensely described detail in the opening of the scene, to get the reader in the intense focusing mood, is a tool that can be used to great advantage.
I make no claims to be anywhere near as good as RE Howard - the opening of "The Tower of the Elephant" is a perfect example of how this works - but I'm quite proud of these efforts:
From Orgy of Death:
South and east of Arnhol, beyond the carefully cultivated estates, a vast empty countryside separated the city from its larger cousin, the Imperial capital of Taridhol. Farmland gave way to scrubby woodland, which in turn became a featureless plain before rising to meet the foothills of the Trada mountains.
It was a lawless country, despite being so close to the centre of power. Successive rulers had sent soldiers into the wasteland to keep the road clear, with only limited success, and no lasting effect. The patrols returned to their barracks, leaving behind them corpses impaled on stakes and swinging from makeshift gibbets, and immediately the vacuum was filled with new robbers, rapists and murderers.
Travel across the plain was rare, as a result, and limited to the old Third Empire road that ran as straight as possible between the hills and crags. It was a venture usually reserved for units of soldiers and heavily-guarded caravans. A pair of travellers astride an eight-legged riding lizard for instance would raise eyebrows, although the words being muttered seemed to fit right in.
"Fuck you, Sligh." The woman was slim, with short, spiky hair and an angry look on her face. Her hands were staying conspicuously away from the short spear strapped to the saddle by her leg, and from the bow-shaped sheath slung on her other side. "Fuck you for dragging me into this mess. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."
And from The Sightless Watcher:
Night lay on the temple complex like a silk blanket. Beyond the tall walls, the desert wind whispered the secrets of the sands to the small settlement, but here silence reigned.
It crept through halls and passages and echoed around courtyards. It lurked in black corners like a predator lying in wait for its prey. It swallowed the tiniest sound alive.
Orra preferred the place at night. It was stifling during the day, both from the heat and from the press of bodies. Priests, servants and supplicants rubbed shoulders -- literally, on the days of the High Sun. Even hushed, their voices battered against the walls and ceilings until Orra sometimes felt she might suffocate.
But at night it was empty. Orra could roam the halls, losing herself inside her mind, letting her fingers trail along the cool stones. Her only companions as she made her way through the dark were the soft sounds of feet padding on the bare flags.
The idea being to start big and wide, and narrow the focus down to the POV character. Show your reader what world to imagine, and then the character in that world.