McAnally's (The Community Pub) > Author Craft

Request for Feedback

<< < (2/4) > >>

Tech L. Me:
This seems like a great idea, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. It's a little rough in places, but I'm sure you will work it out. I can't wait to see where you go with this.

Torvaldr:
Thanks again or the feedback. I am still working things out and hope to post some more in a week or so. The monologues come easy, and I know in a rough way what, where, and how things are happening. Those areas need more work to even be called a rough yet.

That first monologue, I am stuck on deciding if I want to actually lay the scene before or after it. There is a scene. But I kind of like laying the groundwork of the essence of the character first. But we'll see. It is set in current modern times, but there may be flash backs to previous eras. I haven't made up my mind yet as to how many physical lives this character may have had.

Blaze:
You could always make it the forward.

belial.1980:
Great premise!

(I'd worked on something similar awhile back, but it just didn't work--plan to come back to it some day)

The major critique I have--SHOW, don't tell. This is an interesting piece, but it feels like a discertation. The character's physical death launches the story, correct? Show us how he/she died. Make the first paragraph a graphic depiction of MC's physical death. It doesn't have to be gory, but make it visceral. Describe the copper-salty taste of blood, the cold feeling of limb's going numb, the hurt (or lack there of), they feel when the lights go out--that type thing. Does the character have enough self-awareness to realize what's happening? Are they smug? Scared? Angry?

SHOW the Fall. In a single well-crafted paragraph or two, show the readers what it felt like to fall like a shooting star and plunge into the Lake of Fire and crawl out onto the shores, seeing everyone you love most suffering immeasureably after the Fall. Details--blackened wings, armor melted to the bone, screams and the scent of burnt feathers, hair or flesh, the ever present smell of sulphur and smoke. And maybe your version of the Fall is different...either way, show us what it felt like.

I agree with an earlier post that this feels like a voice-over; I can imagine hearing this while watching action on a movie screen. As a writer, though, you don't have the luxury for visual references outside of what you craft upon the page. Again, great premise, and interesting ideas. If you break through the narrative and show the readers what's going on, I think this story can really take flight. (Pun fully intended.  ;))

Good luck! 

Torvaldr:
Still working on it. But here is another piece of the pie.

   I was standing in the hazy gray twilight of the Veil. That nebulous limbo that stands between the physical world, and the spiritual realms of Heaven and Hell. If you look hard enough, you can see the world you came from, or catch glimpses of the other two. Just enough to either tantalize or repulse you. To give you peace, or drive you to madness. It is in this featureless place that the spirits that most people call ghosts dwell. Caught between places, belonging in none, longing for an end.
   As I looked around the familiar haze I watched a very familiar, and very substantial, figure walk towards me. He was rather informally dressed in what looked like dark brown slacks, white polo shirt, and comfortable black loafers. "Hi Tom, back again?" he said.
   I sighed and answered, " Hello, Gabe. Dare I hope that your being here means I get to come home?"
   He shook his head sadly. "While hope is one of His greatest gifts, and I try to encourage it as often as I can, I'm afraid not. In fact I am here for quite the opposite reason."
   "I'm being sent down?" I asked as an icy fear gripped me.
   "No! No, sorry I should have phrased that better. Actually He is rather pleased with you right now. No if things were different, I think He might even have brought you home this time."
   Relief flooded through me, like taking that first sip of hot coffee in the morning. "I truly have been trying." I said.
   "Yes. And He knows. But the situation you have become involved with is both important and delicate. One of Us can't become directly involved. Not without giving the other side more leverage. So He wants you to keep working on it. He has sent me to send you back, but not to be Reborn again. I am to send you back now." He told me.
   I was a bit startled at that. Normally when one of the Reborn is returned to Earth we start all over again. A new body, memories blocked away. We start life anew. He read the surprise in my expression.
   "Yes I know it is unusual. I was a bit surprised myself. But as I said the situation is unusual. So He is bending the rules a bit." He said.
   He turned slightly and raised his hand. A breeze came up, in a world of no wind, and the haze of the Veil parted. We looked through to the alley where my body laid, and I was caught in a moment of detached anxiety. The body is a tool. A physical house for the spirit and soul. It is not me. I look at the wreck of that house with trepidation. It was not in good shape. Being beaten with baseball bats and being tossed off a four story building will do that.
   "Are you going to fix that first?" I asked him, "Not sure how much help I am going to be in that condition. Unless this situation can wait several months of traction, followed by a dozen or more of physical therapy"
   His mouth twitched, and he almost smiled. "No. I am afraid we can't wait that long." He waved his hand again and I watched as broken bones set themselves, and torn flesh flowed together and sealed.
   "Try to keep yourself in one piece Thomiel. I am not sure that I will be sent to do this again any time soon."
   "Thanks Gabriel. Say hi to the Boss for me."

Navigation

[0] Message Index

[#] Next page

[*] Previous page