McAnally's (The Community Pub) > Author Craft
Okay new game: hooked or not hooked.....
thausgt:
--- Quote from: LizW65 on August 13, 2009, 01:18:22 PM ---I would definitely cut the words "in this particular parallel world." First, how would the narrator know he/she is in a parallel world, and second, I think it would be more interesting to show that gradually instead of stating it right off the bat. Otherwise, #3 has my attention.
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This is one of several story-fragments I built around a particular character that I designed for a GURPS: Infinite Worlds campaign.
(For non-GURPS fans: this is an RPG scenario in which cross-dimensional travel is as safe and commonplace as internal-combustion engines are in our world. Most people have to use vehicles or "projectors" to travel across the dimensions, but a double-dozen "worldjumpers" can do so through sheer force of will.)
The character himself ("Zed Starbrucker") is a respected professional worldjumper who is taking a 24-hour leave in a place where his bosses absolutely cannot interrupt him.
The rest of the story-fragment explains that the action takes place in a parallel universe where certain fundamental laws of physics operate differently, creating a dimension that cannot be accessed except by worldjumpers.
Good points in your critique, though; explaining all of this in the first paragraph would require too much jargon. I'll see about adjusting that in another draft.
thausgt:
--- Quote from: Aludra on August 13, 2009, 02:44:56 PM ---I'm with neurovore on that. Also I want to know what the treehouse is, and what someone with the ability to experience multiple worlds would be like. Guess you hooked me. I'd have kept reading, if I'd picked it up at the bookstore to browse (Which I frequently do).
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"Treehouse" is the name that the other worldjumpers use to describe this particular parallel world. There are around two dozen of them on one side or the other (or neither side) of a cross-dimensional war. However, they all found this particular parallel world and declared it neutral ground. Sort of like maintaining diplomatic "back-channels" between the U.S. and Soviet Russia back in the bad old days. They settled on "Treehouse" to describe it based on various aesthetic elements (greater respect for nature, greater cultural preference for using wood in construction and artwork, etc.) and because everyone liked it better than "Manorhouse" or "Cosmic Switzerland".
--- Quote from: Aludra on August 13, 2009, 02:44:56 PM ---I don't like the first two as much.
1. 'Federal' threw me off. It's too mundane and I can quickly get tired of authority protaganists.
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Good point! The speaker is addressing the protagonist. I'll see about making that a little more obvious in the next draft.
--- Quote from: Aludra on August 13, 2009, 02:44:56 PM ---2. I dislike it when the first sentence involves violence. It sets the pace as too fast for my taste and usually implies that there will be little development of character.
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If it helps any, earlier drafts of this scene were much longer and had more action. Basically, imagine the scene in "Blood Rites" where Harry & Co. are heading into the confrontation with Mavra's scourge. Now imagine that scene starting off the book as a flashback, and you'll have some idea of the structure with which I started.
--- Quote from: Aludra on August 13, 2009, 02:44:56 PM ---These are just personal opinions, so don't act on them necessarily. I'm only one potential audience member.
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Never fear, I'm thickening my skin as best I can. All feedback that doesn't descend into impugning the author's genetics and hygiene has at least some merit. Thanks, everybody!
Gritti:
This is fun.
I know I'm being stupid but I'm nervous to put any of my current ideas out into an open forum. I'll try to write something now just as an exercise. I'll try to post it soon. Anyway keep it up all you brave writers.
seekmore:
I almost cheated and put a portion of the climactic chapter where the fairly untrained heroine engages the antagonist in hand to hand combat in a sewer with a three foot piece of rusted rebar, but I decided against that and and went with part of the prologue:
The shadow slides up his hoodie, wrapping itself almost lovingly around his torso. He shivers involuntarily. As the shadow closes around his neck, the tingle of unease at the back of his mind blossoms into full-blown panic. He sprints, desperately making for his apartment and the safety of a locked door.
A sudden clamping of the shadow forces all the air from his lungs in a whoosh. Jacob collapses, falling face first into the road. The unyielding asphalt scrapes painfully against his face, but he doesn't notice as his body now feels likes it is on fire. The creature's tendrils sink into his chest to wrap around his heart and squeeze. His mouth and lungs work in a futile effort to draw breath.
In its haste to feed, the monster let its grip go slack. The pressure redoubles with a rib-cracking crunch. Spots appear before his eyes. His oxygen-deprived limbs begin to convulse despite the monsters efforts to keep him still.
Jacob thrashes soundlessly against the asphalt, but quickly his efforts begin to slow. The blood pools in his limbs and then spots dance before his eyes.
Jacob stares upward. The stars, normally dim spots in the city lights and smog, shine brilliantly in his field of vision before everything goes blissfully dark and quiet.
After a few minutes, the shadow moves again. It glides silently over the sidewalk and down an alley, a fine dust rising in its wake.
It needs some work. The original idea had this in the second person, which wouldn't work for the YA story I'm writing, and so the flow and grammar still needs some work.
Darwinist:
What is YA?
This is the first few paragraphs of the opening chapter to part two of a three part novella I'm writing,
We like to run, it energizes us. Our lungs start to burn and our head gets a little foggy. Adrenaline rushes to our fingertips and the soles of our shoes protest with a numbing agony. The beat in our toes rattles up our spine and our fists pump with deliberation and anxiety. Predator on prey, salivating at the thought of our next meal. The thought drives us to the brink and then we push ourselves over.
Our name is Katon.
We are an ancient people and we are hungry.
Our prey is a small time hood, peddling drugs to school children. It matters not to us who they are or what they do, but to our employer. Interpol. It's amazing what we can get away with if we got a badge, a gun, and a general understanding of how to sidestep the rules.
Here's our target, here's the paperwork. Dead or alive, sounds great to us, it does. Though our prey is usually more dead than alive when the night is through.
But hey, what do us immortals have to fear in this age of bureaucracy. If we screw up, it goes through the hands of about thirty of our superiors before it ever reaches the desk of someone that matters. By then, the issue has blown over and whatever body bag's we left behind are yesterdays news. They just want results, and we gives them results.
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