pchis1 wrote:A pale shadow falls across my desk. A hot hand squeezes the shoulder of my cotton shirt. ‘Curran, come with me. Now, please.’
First line of Red Skies Over Solapur, my novel set in India, 1946/7.
[waits patiently]
How many fiction writers do we have here?
[waits patiently]
i am happy to give feedback on short passages.
be warned, though. my feedback can be blunt... always well intentioned and aimed at helping you improve, but possibly more honest than you are used to.
as such, i will only chip in if directly invited.
be warned, though. my feedback can be blunt... always well intentioned and aimed at helping you improve, but possibly more honest than you are used to.
as such, i will only chip in if directly invited.
Interesting thread although it appears to have stalled.
FWIW, I'll add the 1st paragraph of my novel although it's only a 1st draft.
FWIW, I'll add the 1st paragraph of my novel although it's only a 1st draft.
The Head of Security sits behind the dented, grey metal desk. A man in his sixties and, like the desk in front of him, well past his best. A grey wispy beard struggles to cover his chin and the lines on his face give the appearance of aged leather. Faded epaulets adorn the shoulders of his shirt, the buttons of which are desperately trying to hold his stomach in but seemingly destined to lose the battle.
Thanks in advance for your patience with this non- techie user
Scrivener 3.2
Mac OSX Big Sur 11.0.1
Blog: https://marcfalber.co.uk/
Scrivener 3.2
Mac OSX Big Sur 11.0.1
Blog: https://marcfalber.co.uk/