Opinions needed...

[Guest]

I am stumped at the beginning of a story... thats what I get for losing everything I ever wrote on a PC... (tries hard to ignore the urge to cry)... this is what I rewrote but I am missin something.... anyone up to telling me what they think/feel/see when they read this and what if anything is wrong...

The sky was that reddish orange color that happens after a perfect day. A painter could only hope to mimic the colors if they threw all of their yellow, orange, and red paint against a canvas. The clouds moved in their lazy fashion. The breeze coming across the water pulled the smell of the Pacific ocean onto the porch. The faint smell of the fires that the occupants that lived along the beach made every night began to fill the air.

Somewhere a guitar was strummed and voices joined in to the music of the night. The curtains on the beach house danced like they were gypsies alive with spirit and soul. The leaves of the plants hanging from the ceiling and placed around the room shimmied and settled in a gentle manner. Candle light danced against walls and glowed gently like a beacon in the dusk.

 

[cloudy]

I am stumped at the beginning of a story... thats what I get for losing everything I ever wrote on a PC... (tries hard to ignore the urge to cry)... this is what I rewrote but I am missin something.... anyone up to telling me what they think/feel/see when they read this and what if anything is wrong...

It's very descriptive, and I like that, however....it's missing anything personal, if that makes any sense. Who's there? What's happening with them? Male or female?

 

[TheEarl]

I am stumped at the beginning of a story... thats what I get for losing everything I ever wrote on a PC... (tries hard to ignore the urge to cry)... this is what I rewrote but I am missin something.... anyone up to telling me what they think/feel/see when they read this and what if anything is wrong...

It's very staccato. Each sentence is one clause long and seems to stop very abruptly. That's my definite first impression.

Also, some of your phrasing is a little formal. The "curtains on the beach house danced like they were gypsies" is an example as 'like they were' seems a bit of an awkward phrasing.

Have you tried reading it out loud?

The Earl

 

[Guest]

I read it outloud and I cannot get it to sound right....

I am trying to change up how I usually start stories, I usually fall right into them and begin with the characters... and I was getting negative feedback about it so I was trying to do the whole describe and set the scene before hand this time around... I don't think I am doing it correctly however

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

Lizzy, first of all I feel your pain about the lost material.

As to your opening, my immediate, and admittedly tacky, reaction is, so? After reading those two paragraphs, readers have no idea about the story. The only reason they would continue is the quality of the writing.

The opening also violates Elmore Leonards' first "rule" of writing fiction:

1. Openings

Never open a book with weather. If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Guest]

Lizzy, first of all I feel your pain about the lost material.

As to your opening, my immediate, and admittedly tacky, reaction is, so? After reading those two paragraphs, readers have no idea about the story. The only reason they would continue is the quality of the writing.

The opening also violates Elmore Leonards' first "rule" of writing fiction:

1. Openings

Never open a book with weather. If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.

Rumple Foreskin

hmmmmm
lemme try it again and I will be right back

and um.... where are the rest of the rules?

 

[Guest]

Attempt Number 2

This is where I went... another try....

The sky was that reddish orange color that happens after a perfect day. A painter could only hope to mimic the colors if they threw all of their yellow, orange, and red paint against a canvas. She looked out mesmerized by the hues. Eliza reached up and pushed a curl behind her ear as she took a long cleansing breath. The clouds moved in their lazy fashion. The breeze coming across the water pulled the smell of the Pacific ocean onto the porch. The faint smell of the fires, made every night by the occupants that lived along the beach, began to fill the air. She loved those smells and longed to remember them as she sat down to work that night. She would need the peace of the smoke and clouds but she wished to tap into the wildness of the waves.

Somewhere a guitar was strummed and voices joined in to the music of the night. The curtains on the beach house danced like gypsies alive with spirit and soul. Her blood stirred leaving her restless, her hips swayed to the music as if dancing with the curtains. The leaves of the plants hanging from the ceiling and placed around the room shimmied and settled in a gentle manner. Candle light danced against walls and glowed gently like a beacon in the dusk. She loved this time of night, the time when it was no longer day and not quite the stark blackness of the time of resting or wickedness.

 

[espeteroh]

I am stumped at the beginning of a story... thats what I get for losing everything I ever wrote on a PC... (tries hard to ignore the urge to cry)... this is what I rewrote but I am missin something.... anyone up to telling me what they think/feel/see when they read this and what if anything is wrong...

you're not missing a thing, just continue on, you've got a good start

 

[Typo Fu Master]

I was much more interested in the second version. Adding someone made a difference.

 

[Guest]

thank you to those reading and commenting... my frustration level is higher then normal so I am trying to write and hope that it doesnt come out like poop

 

[cloudy]

The second one is much better.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

hmmmmm
lemme try it again and I will be right back

and um.... where are the rest of the rules?

Ask, and it shall be given.

Rumple Foreskin

Being a good author is a disappearing act.

By ELMORE LEONARD

These are rules I’ve picked up along the way to help me remain invisible when I’m writing a book, to help me show rather than tell what’s taking place in the story. If you have a facility for language and imagery and the sound of your voice pleases you, invisibility is not what you are after, and you can skip the rules. Still, you might look them over.


1. Openings

Never open a book with weather. If it’s only to create atmosphere, and not a character’s reaction to the weather, you don’t want to go on too long. The reader is apt to leaf ahead looking for people. There are exceptions. If you happen to be Barry Lopez, who has more ways to describe ice and snow than an Eskimo, you can do all the weather reporting you want.


2. Avoid prologues.

They can be annoying, especially a prologue following an introduction that comes after a foreword. But these are ordinarily found in nonfiction. A prologue in a novel is backstory, and you can drop it in anywhere you want.

There is a prologue in John Steinbeck’s “Sweet Thursday,” but it’s O.K. because a character in the book makes the point of what my rules are all about. He says: “I like a lot of talk in a book and I don’t like to have nobody tell me what the guy that’s talking looks like. I want to figure out what he looks like from the way he talks. . . . figure out what the guy’s thinking from what he says. I like some description but not too much of that. . . . Sometimes I want a book to break loose with a bunch of hooptedoodle. . . . Spin up some pretty words maybe or sing a little song with language. That’s nice. But I wish it was set aside so I don’t have to read it. I don’t want hooptedoodle to get mixed up with the story.”


3. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.

The line of dialogue belongs to the character; the verb is the writer sticking his nose in. But said is far less intrusive than grumbled, gasped, cautioned, lied. I once noticed Mary McCarthy ending a line of dialogue with “she asseverated,” and had to stop reading to get the dictionary.


4. Never use an adverb to modify the verb “said” . . .

. . . he admonished gravely. To use an adverb this way (or almost any way) is a mortal sin. The writer is now exposing himself in earnest, using a word that distracts and can interrupt the rhythm of the exchange. I have a character in one of my books tell how she used to write historical romances “full of rape and adverbs.”


5. Keep your exclamation points under control.

You are allowed no more than two or three per 100,000 words of prose. If you have the knack of playing with exclaimers the way Tom Wolfe does, you can throw them in by the handful.


6. Never use the words “suddenly” or “all hell broke loose.”

This rule doesn’t require an explanation. I have noticed that writers who use “suddenly” tend to exercise less control in the application of exclamation points.


7. Use regional dialect, patois, sparingly.

Once you start spelling words in dialogue phonetically and loading the page with apostrophes, you won’t be able to stop. Notice the way Annie Proulx captures the flavor of Wyoming voices in her book of short stories “Close Range.”

8. Avoid detailed descriptions of characters.

Which Steinbeck covered. In Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants” what do the “American and the girl with him” look like? “She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.” That’s the only reference to a physical description in the story, and yet we see the couple and know them by their tones of voice, with not one adverb in sight.


9. Don’t go into great detail describing places and things.
Unless you’re Margaret Atwood and can paint scenes with language or write landscapes in the style of Jim Harrison. But even if you’re good at it, you don’t want descriptions that bring the action, the flow of the story, to a standstill.

And finally:


10. Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.

A rule that came to mind in 1983. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. What the writer is doing, he’s writing, perpetrating hooptedoodle, perhaps taking another shot at the weather, or has gone into the character’s head, and the reader either knows what the guy’s thinking or doesn’t care. I’ll bet you don’t skip dialogue.

My most important rule is one that sums up the 10.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can’t allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative. It’s my attempt to remain invisible, not distract the reader from the story with obvious writing. (Joseph Conrad said something about words getting in the way of what you want to say.)

If I write in scenes and always from the point of view of a particular character—the one whose view best brings the scene to life—I’m able to concentrate on the voices of the characters telling you who they are and how they feel about what they see and what’s going on, and I’m nowhere in sight.

What Steinbeck did in “Sweet Thursday” was title his chapters as an indication, though obscure, of what they cover. “Whom the Gods Love They Drive Nuts” is one, “Lousy Wednesday” another. The third chapter is titled “Hooptedoodle 1” and the 38th chapter “Hooptedoodle 2” as warnings to the reader, as if Steinbeck is saying: “Here’s where you’ll see me taking flights of fancy with my writing, and it won’t get in the way of the story. Skip them if you want.”

“Sweet Thursday” came out in 1954, when I was just beginning to be published, and I’ve never forgotten that prologue.

Did I read the hooptedoodle chapters? Every word.

 

[3113]

Ask, and it shall be given.

Some nice rules...but I don't think I want to write like Hemingway...I prefer Fitzgerald.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

Some nice rules...but I don't think I want to write like Hemingway...I prefer Fitzgerald.

IMHO, you can't go wrong either way, although Fitzgerald is more in vogue these days.

Rumple Foreskin

 

[Boxlicker101]

This is where I went... another try....

Quote:
The sky was that reddish orange color that happens after a perfect day. A painter could only hope to mimic the colors if they threw all of their yellow, orange, and red paint against a canvas. She looked out mesmerized by the hues. Eliza reached up and pushed a curl behind her ear as she took a long cleansing breath. The clouds moved in their lazy fashion. The breeze coming across the water pulled the smell of the Pacific ocean onto the porch. The faint smell of the fires, made every night by the occupants that lived along the beach, began to fill the air. She loved those smells and longed to remember them as she sat down to work that night. She would need the peace of the smoke and clouds but she wished to tap into the wildness of the waves.

Somewhere a guitar was strummed and voices joined in to the music of the night. The curtains on the beach house danced like gypsies alive with spirit and soul. Her blood stirred leaving her restless, her hips swayed to the music as if dancing with the curtains. The leaves of the plants hanging from the ceiling and placed around the room shimmied and settled in a gentle manner. Candle light danced against walls and glowed gently like a beacon in the dusk. She loved this time of night, the time when it was no longer day and not quite the stark blackness of the time of resting or wickedness. ....[/QUOTE]

I think this is better but, as The Earl said, you still have too many short sentences. I personally like to intersperse long and short sentences. The third and fourth might read:
"Eliza, mesmerized by the hues, looked out, reached up and pushed a curl behind her ear as she took a long cleansing breath. The clouds moved in their lazy fashion while the breeze coming across the water pulled the smell of the Pacific ocean onto the porch.

You will also be introducing a character by her name, rather than by a pronoun.

 

[Rumple Foreskin]

Lizzy,

Just as a idea starter, and inspired by Box, I took a shot at a re-write of the second version. In the last paragraph, I changed "smell" to "sound" because that paragraph ends with Eliza wanting to "tap into the wildness of the waves" but I don't believe there's any prior mention of them.

Rumple Foreskin

Somewhere a guitar was strummed and voices joined in the music. The curtains on the beach house danced like gypsies alive with spirit and soul. Eliza's blood stirred leaving her restless with her hips swaying to the music as if dancing with the curtains. The leaves of the plants hanging from the ceiling and placed around the room shimmied and settled in a gentle manner. Candlelight danced against walls and glowed gently like a beacon in the dusk. She loved this time of evening, the time when it was no longer day and not quite the stark blackness of the time of resting or wickedness.

The sky was that reddish orange color that happens after a perfect day. Gentle clouds moved in their lazy fashion, framing the scene. A painter could throw all their yellow, orange, and red paint against a canvas and still only hope to mimic the colors. Eliza took a long, cleansing breathe, then pushed a curl behind her ear and forced herself to look away from the mesmerizing hues.

The breeze coming across the water pulled the sound of the Pacific ocean onto the porch. The familiar odor of small beach fires, built every night by local residents, began to fill the air. She loved those smells and longed to remember them as she sat down to work. The peace of the smoke and clouds would be important, but she wished to tap into the wildness of the waves.

 

[Quiet_Cool]

This is where I went... another try....

Much better, the introduction of the character helped it a lot. My suggestion, beyond those that have been mentioned, is this: Consider a simple question before you do another rewrite. Where is the story going, and is the reader aware that it is going somewhere? The best thing I feel that a writer can do is attempt to pull you into the actual story, while introducing the characters needed to do so in the first or second paragraph. Description, no matter how well-written it is (and other han the short, one-clause sentences, which aren't any major crime, it is good). Description is always there to add accent to the story, whether that accent is adding life to a particular scene or is necessary for the forward motion of the story. The story itself must be there from the very beginning. When I read the first one, I saw neither character, nor story. No perspective whatsoever. In the second one, the added character does much to bring the scene into humanist perspective. A third draft may be better if the story is introduced. you don't necessarily have to tell the reader anything concrete, merely let them know that there is a reason that you're writing, that there is some sort of backbone to the words they're reading and that they're being led down some sort of path.

Just a suggestion.

Q_C

 

[elsol]

Two that's...

The sky was that reddish orange color that happens after a perfect day.

versus.

The sky was that reddish orange of a perfect day setting.

But I have severe problem with words repeating in sentences, especially short sentences, and ESPECIALLY the word 'that' which is usually an unnecessary addition.

I would even go farther to kill off 'that' word.

The sky was reddish orange, the color of a perfect day setting.

Again... keep in mind, I have a pathology against 'that'.

Sincerely,
ElSol

 

[gauchecritic]

Thanks Rump. Now I have to go cross out all the adverb modifiers.

Elizabeth. The character introduction read much better. Like Rump quoted 'If you're going to describe the weather, have a reason for describing it.'

The clouds moved in their lazy fashion.

Please do something with that sentence, it's driving me insane.

 

[HungryGuy]

...I usually fall right into them and begin with the characters...

This is just my opinion, but that's how I usually do it. Except for some experimental fiction, every story is told from the perspective of one of the characters. Therefore, it is essential that you put the reader inside the head of that character as quickly as possible, IMO. With few exceptions, I tell the reader the name and gender of the character in the first paragraph, or even the first sentence.

 

[rainyguy]

You have some great input/suggestions in here.

But if you are still looking for feedback or opinions I'll be glad to share just a few.

Your first draft was fine for a first draft. It was quite descriptive and yet flat. But you took care of that nicely in the second draft you posted. A lot of what and how you show is bound to a few things. Your personal style as a writer, what you are trying to "say" and how long you are going to take to say it.

I think you could tighten up the second draft a bit more, play with the presentation of how you show action and tease me, (the reader) into making my curiosity squirm so I want to read more.

Much of the building blocks are here and it's just up to you to decide how you want to build your story.

but I like it so far.

by the way,
I am so sorry you lost your work on your pc.

 

[Guest]

Attempt number 3...

Have I mentioned how very much I love all of you... I took all of what you said, played with some things, messed with others... and came out with this....

Somewhere a guitar was strummed and voices joined in the music. The curtains on the beach house danced like gypsies alive with spirit and soul. Eliza's blood stirred leaving her restless with her hips swaying to the music as if dancing with the curtains. The leaves of the plants hanging from the ceiling and placed around the room shimmied and settled in a gentle manner. Candlelight danced against walls and glowed gently like a beacon in the dusk. She loved this time of evening, the time when it was no longer day and not quite the stark blackness of the time of resting or wickedness.

The sky was reddish orange, the color of a perfect day setting. Clouds stoically marched across the canopy of colors, framing the scene. A painter could throw all their yellow, orange, and red paint against a canvas and still only hope to mimic the colors. Eliza took a long, cleansing breathe, then pushed a curl behind her ear and forced herself to look away from the mesmerizing hues. The manuscript sat where Eliza had left it hours earlier. She hated to not work on it, disliked the feeling of abandoning her characters, but she was so weary and tired. The physical exhaustion was nothing compared to the mental anguish that was rioting through her mind.

The breeze coming across the water pulled the sound of the Pacific ocean onto the porch. The familiar odor of small beach fires, built every night by local residents, began to fill the air. She loved those smells and longed to remember them as she sat down to work. The peace of the smoke and clouds would be important, but she wished to tap into the wildness of the waves. Eliza closed her eyes and blocked out everything except the sounds that spoke to her soul. The waves crashing, the guitar teasing the soul born rhythm of her body, and the gentle ticking of the clock upon the wall.

Thank you for the encouragement to keep going with what is within me to do.

Rumpy... thank you for the rewrite and the rules.

Box thank you for those reworded lines, I am always afraid of running my thoughts together like that because I am worried about run on sentences.

QC and Elsol thank you for your thoughts.

Cloudy I hope that the personalization has come through alittle better.

gauchecritic... I took care of that sentence.

HungryGuy and rainyguy...I hope that you can see Eliza alittle better now.

Typo Fu and espeteroh... thank you

The Earl

 

[Boxlicker101]

Have I mentioned how very much I love all of you... I took all of what you said, played with some things, messed with others... and came out with this....

Thank you for the encouragement to keep going with what is within me to do.

Rumpy... thank you for the rewrite and the rules.

Box thank you for those reworded lines, I am always afraid of running my thoughts together like that because I am worried about run on sentences.

QC and Elsol thank you for your thoughts.

Cloudy I hope that the personalization has come through alittle better.

gauchecritic... I took care of that sentence.

HungryGuy and rainyguy...I hope that you can see Eliza alittle better now.

Typo Fu and espeteroh... thank you

The Earl

You're welcome. In the middle of the second para, you spelled "breath" wrong.

Some additional quibbles: "Then" following "breath" is redundant. Also, "odor" is usually a negative thing, like "the odor of rotten egs", etc. "Aroma" or "scent" would work better.

 

[Guest]

You're welcome. In the middle of the second para, you spelled "breath" wrong.

Some additional quibbles: "Then" following "breath" is redundant. Also, "odor" is usually a negative thing, like "the odor of rotten egs", etc. "Aroma" or "scent" would work better.

Got them... thank you

 

[fifty5]

Have I mentioned how very much I love all of you... I took all of what you said, played with some things, messed with others... and came out with this...

Go one step further (IMHO) - make 'Eliza' (or 'She' etc.) the first word in all 3 paras. Eliza isn't the afterthought, but the essence.

eg "Eliza stood there listening to a guitar being strummed; to voices joining in the music. The curtains on her beach house were dancing like gypsies alive with spirit and soul. Her blood stirred leaving her restless, her hips swaying to the music as if dancing with the curtains."

We (readers) are more interested in Eliza than in her situation, which should follow, not lead.

Just paraphrasing what others have already said...