Rip me to shreds!

[Zeronix]

Ooh I definitely want some unfiltered criticism! Here’s a snippet from the opening scene of a draft I’m working on for Yay Team 2025.

The main character is a grizzled, older Olympic diver who has to turn to OnlyFans in order to pay for his training. Lmk what you think!

———————

Not for the first time that day, I was contemplating manslaughter.

I stood in Cameron’s small studio like a right muppet—bare chest out, jeans slung low, trying not to look like I’d wandered onto the set of a dodgy calendar shoot. Cameron was doing his thing with the lens, head tilted, fingers fiddling with some little dial like it mattered.

I hated this. Not in the I feel silly way. No—this was proper, bone-deep hate. I hated the lighting, too soft and too warm. I hated how the denim stuck to my thighs. Hated the way I felt like a preened boytoy, posing for the camera like a cheap tart in a Topman ad.

Cameron sighed, finally lifting his head. “Could you, I don’t know… smile a little?”

Christ, it got on my nerves how he pronounced every syllable down to a tee. He sounded like a posh grammar school wanker who’d drank too much chamomile tea.

“You’ve got that look like you’re about to chew someone’s ear off,” he continued.

“Maybe I am,” I muttered. “No promises.” He sighed again, letting it drop, thin lips pressed to a line.

OnlyFans hadn’t been my first idea. It hadn’t been my tenth, either. It hadn’t been on the list at all, until some friend-of-a-friend had mentioned how their younger sister was raking in ten thousand quid a month. All for a few bloody feet pics a day.

Christ knew I could use that kind of cash flow. At thirty-four, I wasn’t pulling sponsors like I used to. For a while I’d scraped by on contract renewals and old royalties—until some fresh-faced lad with abs like smooth marble came along and smiled for the cameras.

That was it for me. Chucked aside like expired milk.

With no marketable skills to speak of, all I had to offer was the body I spent honing six days a week until it rippled and bulged like a Greek god. I looked bloody good and I damn well knew it. I’d found myself thinking—it wouldn’t be so bad. I’d modelled before. And a photo was what it was, didn’t matter if you were selling to Calvin Klein or… others.

But now, standing before the camera, I found the notion unbearable. Like I was nothing more than sleazy tabloid fodder.

 

[StillStunned]

Ooh I definitely want some unfiltered criticism! Here’s a snippet from the opening scene of a draft I’m working on for Yay Team 2025.

I'll have a look after I've finished a bit of work.

Meanwhile, thanks for being brave enough to join the fun.

 

[MelissaBaby]

Ooh I definitely want some unfiltered criticism! Here’s a snippet from the opening scene of a draft I’m working on for Yay Team 2025.

The main character is a grizzled, older Olympic diver who has to turn to OnlyFans in order to pay for his training. Lmk what you think!

———————

Not for the first time that day, I was contemplating manslaughter.

I'd open with a bigger bang.

I was contemplating manslaughter, and not for the first time that day

 

[StillStunned]

Ooh I definitely want some unfiltered criticism! Here’s a snippet from the opening scene of a draft I’m working on for Yay Team 2025.

The main character is a grizzled, older Olympic diver who has to turn to OnlyFans in order to pay for his training. Lmk what you think!

Good stuff. A strong character, a plausible situation, lots of possibilities.

Not for the first time that day, I was contemplating manslaughter.

I agree with @MelissaBaby on this.

I stood in Cameron’s small studio feeling like a right muppet—bare chest out, jeans slung low, trying not to look out of place, like I’d wandered onto the set of a dodgy calendar shoot. Cameron was doing his thing with the lens, head tilted, fingers fiddling with some little dial like it mattered.

A few small additions here that I think bring the reader into the narrator's mind a bit faster.

“Maybe I am,” I muttered. “No promises.” He sighed again, letting it drop, thin lips pressed to a line.

I'd put a paragraph break here. The narrator's actions and Cameron's actions shouldn't be in the same paragraph. Then maybe add a few more words about Cameron going back to fiddling with his camera to provide a better bridge to the next sentence.

Christ knew I could use that kind of cash flow. At thirty-four, I wasn’t pulling sponsors like I used to. For a while I’d scraped by on contract renewals and old royalties—until some fresh-faced lad with abs like smooth marble came along and smiled for the cameras.

I'd emphasise the smiling here. Maybe something like "and flashed a dazzling smile at the cameras."

With no marketable skills to speak of, all I had to offer was the body I spent honing six days a week until it rippled and bulged like a Greek god. I looked bloody good and I damn well knew it. I’d found myself thinking—it wouldn’t be so bad. I’d modelled before. And a photo was what it was, didn’t matter if you were selling to Calvin Klein or… others.

This paragraph is tricky. I might say something like "no immediately marketable skills" - he's got his swimming, and that's brought in money before and presumably he's hoping it will again.

The main problem is how he describes his body, only a few lines after complaining about the younger lads having abs like smooth marble. You might want to say something like "...all I had to offer was my body. Despite my grumbles about the younger kids' abs, I knew I looked just as good. For the past two decades I'd spent six days a week honing my physique. It might not look like smooth marble, but underneath my rough skin I could pass for a Greek god."

Or something like that, if you get what I mean.

 

[Zeronix]

Good stuff. A strong character, a plausible situation, lots of possibilities.

I agree with @MelissaBaby on this.

A few small additions here that I think bring the reader into the narrator's mind a bit faster.

I'd put a paragraph break here. The narrator's actions and Cameron's actions shouldn't be in the same paragraph. Then maybe add a few more words about Cameron going back to fiddling with his camera to provide a better bridge to the next sentence.

I'd emphasise the smiling here. Maybe something like "and flashed a dazzling smile at the cameras."

This paragraph is tricky. I might say something like "no immediately marketable skills" - he's got his swimming, and that's brought in money before and presumably he's hoping it will again.

The main problem is how he describes his body, only a few lines after complaining about the younger lads having abs like smooth marble. You might want to say something like "...all I had to offer was my body. Despite my grumbles about the younger kids' abs, I knew I looked just as good. For the past two decades I'd spent six days a week honing my physique. It might not look like smooth marble, but underneath my rough skin I could pass for a Greek god."

Or something like that, if you get what I mean.

All great comments, thanks!

I see what you mean about how he describes his body. He does look ripped but we want to keep it consistent with him not being selected for the modeling gigs, and a big part of that might just be that he's got older / rougher skin. I'll play around with some wording here.

 

[PapaRomantic]

That was it for me. Chucked aside like expired milk.

But now, standing before the camera, I found the notion unbearable. Like I was nothing more than sleazy tabloid fodder.

This is my own personal gripe, and I see so many authors doing it, but it goes back to the debate about "proper grammar" verses "how we talk." I see so many stories with sentence fragments like this, and I hate it, because my English teacher in high school (who's still alive in real life and in my head) drilled this into us. I would much rather see, "That was it for me - checked aside like expired milk."

But like I said, so many others are doing it, and it's not going to stop. I'll close the vent in my mind now...

 

[TheLobster]

This is my own personal gripe, and I see so many authors doing it (…)

People do it because it’s a quick and dirty way to speed up the narrative. Most readers don’t notice this, they just get the impression that the story “flows well.”

 

[Zeronix]

This is my own personal gripe, and I see so many authors doing it, but it goes back to the debate about "proper grammar" verses "how we talk." I see so many stories with sentence fragments like this, and I hate it, because my English teacher in high school (who's still alive in real life and in my head) drilled this into us. I would much rather see, "That was it for me - checked aside like expired milk."

But like I said, so many others are doing it, and it's not going to stop. I'll close the vent in my mind now...

Good point! I normally agree, but in this case I think “how I talk” IS how I want to write the prose; because it’s the character narrating. Of course they’d write like they talk! They are talking

 

[pink_silk_glove]

This is my own personal gripe, and I see so many authors doing it, but it goes back to the debate about "proper grammar" verses "how we talk." I see so many stories with sentence fragments like this, and I hate it, because my English teacher in high school (who's still alive in real life and in my head) drilled this into us. I would much rather see, "That was it for me - checked aside like expired milk."

But like I said, so many others are doing it, and it's not going to stop. I'll close the vent in my mind now...

I agree with this. For the most part writers use waaay too many fragments and my brain trips on them all the time when I read. This can get rather annoying or even unpleasant. I always take care to have one subject and one predicate before every period when I write.

Unless ... once in a blue moon, if it works for the voicing, a first person narrative can use fragments for a more natural flow. I believe that this could be one of those cases where broken sentences and fragments are okay. If you ever read Bukowski, it's all first person and full of improper grammar/sentence structure, but it works because his style is that of some guy sitting next to you at the bar spinning you some yarn, and it flows perfectly despite all of the errors. Additionally, perhaps the best example of bad grammar first person is Flowers for Algernon.

 

[VallesMarineris]

My excerpt:

===

There’s a place in Spain where you can walk all day and never see another human being. Where your only companions are the snake gliding through the brush, the ibex clinging to the cliff, the eagle soaring overhead.

The sound of this place is the soft wind as it mourns an abandoned farmstead or a shrine to a long-dead pilgrim. <em>Iago Blas, obit. 1458.</em>

The landscape is drawn in harsh contours, unsoftened by any thickness of the air. The moisture has been sucked out of it by a sun so greedy that it’s leeched the colour from the rocks and plants.

It’s a hard land, and lonely. The rocks beneath your feet are the very bones of the mountains. It’s a bleak place, where the spirits of nature feel very close.

It was still early when I set out on this particular day. I’d spent the night at a small farm perched midway up a slope, with stone walls so thick I had to lean out of the window to get any signal on my phone. The full moon painted the fields below a glowing silver and softened the hard lines of the day.

I made my farewells to my landlady, responding to the words I recognised in her regular salvos of speech and nodding and smiling through the rest. Her husband’s tractor stood in the distance, perched at an impossible angle on the slope, but the man himself was nowhere in sight. I tried to be polite and keep my gaze away from the valley of cleavage that was on display, but I promised myself to revisit the memory later.

Stuffing the lunch she’d prepared for me in my pack and waving one last time – and enjoying the movement as she waved back – I stepped onto a narrow path uphill. It led me over the crest, then down into a gorge. The birds that populated the farm and its fields soon fell silent in the morning’s heat, and I left the place behind as I put one foot in front of the other, again and again and again, and let my mind wander.

Besides the occasional crunch of gravel under my feet and the low murmur of the stream further below, all I heard was silence. It was like a constant whisper in my ear, growing louder, somehow, as the sounds of the water also grew bolder.

By midmorning I’d reached the point where the path crossed the river. Ancient stones, of a bluey-grey that seemed alien to these mountains, lay across the stream like the dolmens that stood scattered across the landscape.

The stream had come awake with the climbing sun. It sang and chortled its way over its rocky bed, hemmed in by steep sides above and below me. Far off in the distance, a dark spot moved in lazy circles against the full blue of the sky. An eagle. For a while I watched it: king of the morning’s warm air.

===

My problem with the scene, assuming it's the first in the story, is that you haven't started the story yet. You need hints, foreboding, foreshadowing, something, to let the reader know why they should care. It's very well done, but it's what a writing teacher once called "throat clearing". If it's not the beginning of the story, then I don't see any connections to the rest of the story.

But that's me and the way I read. I still keep in mind what an editor wrote when he rejected Proust's submission for Swann's Way: "I fail to see why I should spend the first thirty pages of the novel hearing about the character's ruminations as he's falling asleep in his bed." Or words to that effect-- I don't recall the exact quote. The editor was right. But also wrong. My first time reading I was fascinated by Proust's writing and enjoyed it all thoroughly. I didn't care about the plot.

But Proust was a genius. Maybe you are too.

One compliment: you have good taste in music. Ms. Harry has been a musical crush of mine for a long time.

 

[StillStunned]

My problem with the scene, assuming it's the first in the story, is that you haven't started the story yet. You need hints, foreboding, foreshadowing, something, to let the reader know why they should care. It's very well done, but it's what a writing teacher once called "throat clearing". If it's not the beginning of the story, then I don't see any connections to the rest of the story.

I see what you mean, and normally I'd agree with you. I don't usually begin my stories with a chunk of exposition like this. But in this case it was a deliberate attempt to create a sense of place. In fact, the entire story (Upstream) is more about the natural surroundings than anything else.

But Proust was a genius. Maybe you are too.

Some of the comments on that story are flattering enough to almost make me think so.

One compliment: you have good taste in music. Ms. Harry has been a musical crush of mine for a long time.

Debbie Harry... *swoon*

 

[StillStunned]

This is my own personal gripe, and I see so many authors doing it, but it goes back to the debate about "proper grammar" verses "how we talk." I see so many stories with sentence fragments like this, and I hate it, because my English teacher in high school (who's still alive in real life and in my head) drilled this into us. I would much rather see, "That was it for me - checked aside like expired milk."

But like I said, so many others are doing it, and it's not going to stop. I'll close the vent in my mind now...

People do it because it’s a quick and dirty way to speed up the narrative. Most readers don’t notice this, they just get the impression that the story “flows well.”

Good point! I normally agree, but in this case I think “how I talk” IS how I want to write the prose; because it’s the character narrating. Of course they’d write like they talk! They are talking

I think this depends on the narrator. In 1P, and close 3P, it's important to present the narration in their voice, and that often comes close to how you'd write dialogue. And even then, emotions might change how they narrate. For instance, in the lines quoted above:

That was it for me. Chucked aside like expired milk.
[...]
But now, standing before the camera, I found the notion unbearable. Like I was nothing more than sleazy tabloid fodder.

This is the narrator being angry and bitter, and these half sentences convey the idea that they're almost spitting out the words. You wouldn't get that with traditional perfect grammar.

 

[VallesMarineris]

Debbie Harry... *swoon*

In the spirit of @StillStunned, I'll step into the ring to the sound of another musical crush, Emily Haines of Metric:

Every living thing
Pushed into the ring
Fight it out to wow the crowd
Guess you thought
You could just watch
No one's getting out

Without stadium love
Without stadium love

This excerpt is the opening scene of a WIP, intended to be at least novella length. Working title is "Alien Abduction". It's a bit long at 800 words, but I thought I should continue until there's a break in the action, as you'll see:

My ridiculous nephew Dennis convinced me, after nagging me for months, to come out with him to this deserted spot one dark night to look for UFOs. We were sitting in his pickup truck at the end of a dirt road that was mostly just tire tracks in the moonlight. “Uncle Mark,” he explained, “really, the guys on the reddit sub all said it’s high con.”

‘High con’ was his subreddit-speak for high confidence. I had a different idea what the ‘con’ meant. But I went along finally, if only to shut him up and show him what an idiot he was. “Fine,” I agreed after some pestering, “It’s a nice, clear night. We can watch for UAPs.” I’d brought my binoculars, thinking at least I could do some stargazing.

“Come on, Uncle Mark,” he corrected me, “you know that ‘unidentified aerial phenomena’ bullshit is just to confuse the masses. They are objects and they are flying.”

“Fine,” I agreed again to silence him. But I started taking some notes on my phone. I was a science writer by profession. If nothing else, this could potentially make a human interest story about UFO-hunters. I would have to figure out how to anonymize my nephew, but that could be managed for a fluff piece. I even had a title, courtesy of Dennis: They are objects and they are flying! My editor would probably reject it.

Ufology is not science. It’s mythology, urban legend, conspiracy theory. I explained all this in the simplest terms I could manage while we sat in his pickup truck in the dark, on the edge of a desolate stretch of land so useless even squatters and the government didn’t know what to do with it.

“Watch for their lights,” Dennis said. He was checking his phone, some sky view app. We were in the deadest of dead zones.

“Why would they light up?” I asked, pointing out the absurdity of his observational plan. “It’s not as if they have to follow some FAA regulation.” He wasn’t listening. I went on. “And why, if they’ve traveled here from some other planet somewhere, millions or billions of miles away, would they decide to land here—” I pointed through the windshield at the empty playa and the dark line of mountains in the distance— “of all places?”

“Almost time,” he announced. I didn’t think he’d even heard me. Or my cogent arguments against the very idea of what he’d somehow talked me into doing. At least the moon was out, rising behind us, nearly full, and illuminating the wide valley where we’d parked, which glowed silver in the moonlight. My eyes had adjusted and the stars, even through the dirty windshield, were magnificent. It was really quite pretty. I’d read my share of science fiction as well as studying science at university, and wondered if humanity would ever reach the stars. Totally impossible, I’d regretfully concluded.

“There!” he whispered as he pointed through the windshield. There was, of course, no need to whisper since there were no other humans within miles. But yes, there was a strange light in the sky.

He started the truck. “Whoa!” I said, “Where are you going?”, but we were already lurching along the dirt track left by some off-roader. We bounced and skidded scarily into the playa— he was driving way too fast for a pickup in this terrain— toward the light. I had a hard time keeping it in view. It wasn’t what I’d expected. First, the light was bluish. I’d read up a bit on UAPs and they tended to be white or yellow. And it was coming toward us through a gap in the mountain range on the other side, the way a private aircraft might, not zipping across the sky. “It’s just a private aircraft,” I told him. But who would be taking their Cessna out now? Here?

At a big dip in the dirt, a dried up creek bed, I lost track of the light. Sand sprayed around us as Dennis gunned the motor and downshifted to get us up the opposite bank. We bounced hard onto a level patch and he stopped the truck.

I was trying to relocate the light, which seemed to have grown brighter at my last sighting, when Dennis opened the driver’s door and jumped out.

“Wait, Dennis! What are you—” but he was already out front and running toward it.

It? It! The faint blue light brightened and expanded as I watched, widening to a bluish scintillation around a slim, dark mass that descended to the earth. I got out. “Dennis!” I yelled. “Stop! It could be dangerous!” To no effect. I trudged after him.

The blue scintillations abruptly vanished and at first I thought we’d just witnessed a true aerial phenomenon, some kind of meteorological effect, maybe static electricity in the dry air. Something that could explain what I’d just seen. But as my eyes adjusted to the increased darkness I could just make out a shape, a not quite totally black, skinny ovoid, against the black mountains.

Fuck! I thought. What else was there to think?

So what do you all think?

 

[StillStunned]

So what do you all think?

Besides a reminder about not pushing the limits of how much story we're allowed to include in posts (my own snippet was probably a bit more than prudent), here are a couple of suggestions:

My ridiculous nephew Dennis convinced me, after nagging me for months, to come out with him to this deserted spot one dark night to look for UFOs. We were sitting in his pickup truck at the end of a dirt road that was mostly just tire tracks in the moonlight. “Uncle Mark,” he explained, “really, the guys on the reddit sub all said it’s high con.”

I see why you want to include the narrator's name, but it's a bit clumsy. As I was reading I was wondering why Dennis wants his uncle to come along so badly, so perhaps you could combine these two issues. Something like, "It wasn't really my thing at all, but Dennis thought he'd get some cred for getting his favourite Uncle Mark, the science writer, to go accompany him." Or something. I just think that explaining Dennis's motivation is an opportunity for naming the narrator in a more subtle way.

‘High con’ was his subreddit-speak for high confidence. I had a different idea what the ‘con’ meant. But I went along finally, if only to shut him up and show him what an idiot he was. “Fine,” I agreed after some pestering, “It’s a nice, clear night. We can watch for UAPs.” I’d brought my binoculars, thinking at least I could do some stargazing.

“Come on, Uncle Mark,” he corrected me, “you know that ‘unidentified aerial phenomena’ bullshit is just to confuse the masses. They are objects and they are flying.”

Again, the explanation of the abbreviation is a bit clumsy. It might be a bit more natural if it was something like "Why can't you just call them UFOs? They're objects and they're flying. What value does it add to call them "unidentified aerial phenomena"? That's just what they call them to confuse the masses."

“There!” he whispered as he pointed through the windshield. There was, of course, no need to whisper since there were no other humans within miles. But yes, there was a strange light in the sky.

He started the truck. “Whoa!” I said, “Where are you going?”, but we were already lurching along the dirt track left by some off-roader.

This is a bit underwhelming. I'd expect there to be some wondering about what the light is, some denial of it being a UAP, perhaps a secret thrill at the thought that it might actually be one...

I was trying to relocate the light, which seemed to have grown brighter at my last sighting,

Your narrator needs to relocate the light before noticing that it's brighter. "I finally relocated the light, which seemed to..."

It? It! The faint blue light brightened and expanded as I watched, widening to a bluish scintillation around a slim, dark mass that descended to the earth. I got out. “Dennis!” I yelled. “Stop! It could be dangerous!” To no effect. I trudged after him.

"Trudged" probably isn't the word your looking for here. "Slogged", perhaps, or "stumbled". Trudged implies hopelessness, unwillingness or disinterest.

The blue scintillations abruptly vanished and at first I thought we’d just witnessed a true aerial phenomenon, some kind of meteorological effect, maybe static electricity in the dry air.

I'd break up this sentence after "vanished". It's too long, and it presents two separate sets of information.

Hope this is useful. And thanks for putting your snippet out here!

 

[VallesMarineris]

Besides a reminder about not pushing the limits of how much story we're allowed to include in posts (my own snippet was probably a bit more than prudent), here are a couple of suggestions:


I see why you want to include the narrator's name, but it's a bit clumsy. As I was reading I was wondering why Dennis wants his uncle to come along so badly, so perhaps you could combine these two issues. Something like, "It wasn't really my thing at all, but Dennis thought he'd get some cred for getting his favourite Uncle Mark, the science writer, to go accompany him." Or something. I just think that explaining Dennis's motivation is an opportunity for naming the narrator in a more subtle way.

Again, the explanation of the abbreviation is a bit clumsy. It might be a bit more natural if it was something like "Why can't you just call them UFOs? They're objects and they're flying. What value does it add to call them "unidentified aerial phenomena"? That's just what they call them to confuse the masses."

This is a bit underwhelming. I'd expect there to be some wondering about what the light is, some denial of it being a UAP, perhaps a secret thrill at the thought that it might actually be one...

Your narrator needs to relocate the light before noticing that it's brighter. "I finally relocated the light, which seemed to..."

"Trudged" probably isn't the word your looking for here. "Slogged", perhaps, or "stumbled". Trudged implies hopelessness, unwillingness or disinterest.

I'd break up this sentence after "vanished". It's too long, and it presents two separate sets of information.

Hope this is useful. And thanks for putting your snippet out here!

Thanks a lot. This is very useful. My apologies for running beyond the expected length, but there didn't seem to be a place to stop before that point that wouldn't draw questions and complaints.

 

[AG31]

Alright, I'll take a stab at it.

Problem is that this impression doesn't last. Somewhere, maybe around halfway through, it starts to fall flat.

That's not true for me. It seemed all of a piece.

Some other random points:

• The Prince is on horseback, but I can't know it until third paragraph. By that time, I'm already picturing him approaching the bridge on foot.

Fair.

• You should probably say straight away that Sagely is a troll. Until the narrator says it, it feels like it's meant to be a bit of a mystery (What is the measure of troll?), but then the mystery is abruptly resolved.

Well, the dancing around supports the question of why Sagely had only been a troll "since this morning." That's a plot driving question.

• Sagely's final words in the piece seem a bit off. I expected him to say something more profound, like "As far as we can".
  • Also, a small consistency issue: Prince says the quest will take him "most of the day" but then wonders how far they'd get by nightfall, meaning he knows he won't be returning tonight

I think that would tie up a thread too early. I very much like Sagely's last remark. It keeps us looking forward.

 

[StillStunned]

Well, the dancing around supports the question of why Sagely had only been a troll "since this morning." That's a plot driving question.

I think that would tie up a thread too early. I very much like Sagely's last remark. It keeps us looking forward.

Thanks for replying! One of the problems with these snippets is that you don't get the rest of the context. Sagely's trollness is one of those things that's a mystery to the reader at first. The business about the quest lasting all day is an indication of the Prince's foolishness, and Sagely has more realistic expectations. Again, those are elements that don't come across without the rest of the story.

I've started reworking the scene, and I'll post it here when it's done.

 

[StillStunned]

New snippet. This is the opening paragraph of a sword & sorcery story I began a while ago.

One of my tricks with fantasy is to use the opening paragraphs to paint the background. The more vivid it is, the less you need to describe the scenery as the story progresses.

But with this story, the actual action doesn't take place in this town. What I want to do here is set the mood. I want the reader to get a sense of the place in just a few words, so that I can move the story forward as quickly as possible.

What do you think? As always, don't hold back with any valid criticism.

===

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilia stepped out onto the balcony. A busy trade town, Port Pensal never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled, and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea carried the soft rushing and rolling of waves as well.

 

[TheLobster]

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilia stepped out onto the balcony. A busy trade town, Port Pensal never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled, and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea carried the soft rushing and rolling of waves as well.

My first thought is, too much 'was'. Second thought, it's too stuttery.
I'd go with something like this:

The sky had just turned purple over the eastern hills when Avilla stepped onto the balcony. Port Pensal, the busy trade town beneath, never truly slept. But perhaps it slumbered now, and in the hour before dawn it seemed almost peaceful. Stilled was the rumble of carts and the cries of both humans and seabirds; and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea likewise carried the rushing and the rolling of the waves.

This saying, it definitely paints a vivid picture in either version.

Edit: Okay, maybe I overdid it with avoiding 'was'. Upon consideration, it's perfectly fine in the first sentence:

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilla stepped onto the balcony. Port Pensal, the busy trade town beneath, never truly slept. But perhaps it slumbered now, and in the hour before dawn it seemed almost peaceful. Stilled was the rumble of carts and the cries of both humans and seabirds; and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea likewise carried the rushing and the rolling of the waves.

 

[filthytrancendence]

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilia stepped out onto the balcony. A busy trade town, Port Pensal never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled, and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea carried the soft rushing and rolling of waves as well.

The first sentence is great. The rest is a little awkward. I expect the awkward sentence structure of the second sentence is an attempt to avoid repeating 'was' in the beginning of the sentence, but it's not worth the cost, in my opinion. Also I don't think you need town because you already have Port. Here's my best attempt:

Port Pensal never truly slept, busy as it was with trade. The closest it came to slumber were these peaceful moments before dawn, before the rumble of carts, cries of humans, and calls of gulls echoed from the piers and warehouses of the port. Dawn brought with it the sharp smell of the sea as the breeze carried over the soft rushing and roiling of the waves.

 

[filthytrancendence]

Okay, rip me apart for my ill-advised double simile in a single sentence. I like them both too much to get rid of either. But if it's a darling I should kill, somebody talk me into it...

The huge man pulled Thatcher off the floor and Thatcher draped an arm around the bouncer’s shoulder. He was glad for the support, because every step felt like a fall in progress, and his head was spinning like he just got off the tilt-a-whirl. They walked to the back of the bar and through the door to the manager’s office. Don plopped Thatcher down on the worn green leather couch against the far wall.

 

[VallesMarineris]

New snippet. This is the opening paragraph of a sword & sorcery story I began a while ago.

One of my tricks with fantasy is to use the opening paragraphs to paint the background. The more vivid it is, the less you need to describe the scenery as the story progresses.

But with this story, the actual action doesn't take place in this town. What I want to do here is set the mood. I want the reader to get a sense of the place in just a few words, so that I can move the story forward as quickly as possible.

What do you think? As always, don't hold back with any valid criticism.

===

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilia stepped out onto the balcony. A busy trade town, Port Pensal never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled, and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea carried the soft rushing and rolling of waves as well.

As usual, I want some action, or the hint of it, in my first paragraph:

Dawn painted the eastern sky above Port Pensai a deep purple like trampled grapes as Avila stepped out onto the balcony, the faint light turning the stains on her thin gloves black. She carefully peeled them off her hands while she scanned the harbor street. The trade town never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled. She dropped the gloves into a disused flower pot and rubbed her hands, as if that action could wipe away what they’d done, and inhaled the chill breeze, as if the sharp smell of the sea and the soft rushing and rolling of waves could wipe away the memory of her night.

The focus on Avila may dilute the effect of the setting's description, but the reader is impelled to keep going on to the second paragraph, giving you the opportunity to slip in a bit more background.

Your first paragraph is not in any way inferior to mine. It all depends on what audience you're aiming for.

 

[Areala-chan]

New snippet. This is the opening paragraph of a sword & sorcery story I began a while ago.

One of my tricks with fantasy is to use the opening paragraphs to paint the background. The more vivid it is, the less you need to describe the scenery as the story progresses.

But with this story, the actual action doesn't take place in this town. What I want to do here is set the mood. I want the reader to get a sense of the place in just a few words, so that I can move the story forward as quickly as possible.

What do you think? As always, don't hold back with any valid criticism.

===

The sky was just turning purple over the eastern hills when Avilia stepped out onto the balcony. A busy trade town, Port Pensal never truly slept. But it slumbered, and in the hour before dawn it was almost peaceful. The rumble of carts and the cries of humans and seabirds were stilled, and the breeze that brought the sharp smell of the sea carried the soft rushing and rolling of waves as well.

Failed to incorporate penile length/girth and down-to-the-centimeter measurement of bosom area within opening sentence. Nary a six- or eight-pack of abs to be seen. No breasts bounced boobily within swaying dresses whilst stairs were descended. Exactly zero family members were described as "ridiculously attractive...despite them being my (mother/brother/sister/son)". Stunningly offensive lack of lesbians. Apparently no one on either the balcony or within the rumbling carts has an ass, much less one that could be described as 'heart-shaped' or 'bubble-like'. Exactly who are you meaning to entice with this apparent love story between humans and seabirds? Zero stars, ignored, blocked, unsubscribed from Patreon, copyright claimed, etc, and I hope you've learned your lesson.

In all seriousness, I see nothing wrong with this opening. But I'm absolute shit at critique, even when people are asking for it, so take that for what it's worth.

 

[StillStunned]

Second thought, it's too stuttery.

I expect the awkward sentence structure of the second sentence is an attempt to avoid repeating 'was' in the beginning of the sentence

Thanks! I agree that the second sentence is where the problem is. As @TheLobster says, too stuttery.

As usual, I want some action, or the hint of it, in my first paragraph:

Me too, normally. But as I explained with the snippet, the action takes place elsewhere. This is supposed to be a gentle opening, like the start of a movie, going from a black screen to the first shot.

This saying, it definitely paints a vivid picture in either version.

Thanks!

 

[StillStunned]

Okay, rip me apart for my ill-advised double simile in a single sentence. I like them both too much to get rid of either. But if it's a darling I should kill, somebody talk me into it...

The huge man pulled Thatcher off the floor and Thatcher draped an arm around the bouncer’s shoulder. He was glad for the support, because every step felt like a fall in progress, and his head was spinning like he just got off the tilt-a-whirl. They walked to the back of the bar and through the door to the manager’s office. Don plopped Thatcher down on the worn green leather couch against the far wall.

I have no problem with the double simile, but repeating "Thatcher" in the opening sentence feels awkward.

"The huge man pulled Thatcher off the floor. Draping an arm around the bouncer's shoulders, glad for the support, Thatcher let himself be guided to the back of the bar. Every step felt like a fall in progress, and his head wad spinning like he just got off a tilt-a-whirl. Once inside the manager's office, Don plopped Thatcher down on the worn green leather couch that stood against the far wall."

I assume that Don's name is used just before this snippet. If not, I'd swap "the huge man" and "Don" around. Or even order them "Don... the huge man... the bouncer".