Haaagghhh!!!Haahhh!!
Canine cousin Scottie, give us a break! Y’ mean irritating yapping…don’t y’?
Cus Fluff
Oh, no, no, no - bless you you misguided kitty: you’re thinking of a Maltese, or maybe a Bichon Frise. You gotta love 'em, they try so hard, but they’re not Westies. No, they’re [size=50]very small dogs[/size] in a [size=85]small dog’s[/size] body. But Westies? We’re [size=150]big[/size] dogs in a little dog’s body. We’re known for our fierce barking that leaves one with the certain knowledge and cold appreciation of our lupine ancestry. My human, bless his soft heart, used to take me into the front yard to meet the children I’d terrified so they’d know that there wasn’t a wolf in the “corner house”. I was pleased to show them what a true Westie could do - to see their smiles at the “cute doggie” brought a wag to my tail. Then I’d fall asleep in the sun streaming through the front gate.
“He would have known that she came from money even if her name had not been entered on his appointment calendar, her body tall and erect, her gate telegraphing a no-nonsense style, moving with the accuracy of a rifle shot from the office door to the chair placed across from his desk, looking neither left or right but with eyes locked on his from the moment she entered the office, and without any hint of the hesitancy, awkwardness, uncertainty, fear, anger, or disgrace with which so many had entered through the door of his office, which even now was simply and discreetly lettered: Personal Investigations.”
Gate or gait? I’d break it up to make it easier to read and to add tension:
He didn’t need to know her name to know she had money.
Her body, tall and erect. Her gait telegraphing her no-nonsense style. Her heels ricocheting as she walked to the chair in front of his desk.
She looked neither left nor right. Locked eyes with him the moment she entered the room.
No hint of hesitancy, awkwardness or uncertainty. No fear or anger. None of the shame that hung about most of his clients.
He eyed the discreet lettering on his office door—Jason Furgloe, Private Investigator.
Felt its dead weight seal the room as it swung closed behind her. Stale air. And silence.
The final line adds to the tension as it puts the two protagonists in a small shared space.
Young Briar Kit,
Correct me if I’m wrong…no doubt you will, but, I was under the impression that an expression like, “… she came from money.” implies that the lady in question comes from a wealthy family background, as opposed to, say, an ex-lap dancer, married to a millionaire, higher echelon member of the UKIP Party.
Fluff
since this one has been brought back up, and i have a rare pocket with a little more time, i thought i,d expand on my earlier comment.
i really like the way you use the passage - which seems to be about the lady - to tell us things indirectly about the investigator - it,s his observations and ability to read her that speak to his experience and insight.
i do have a couple of notes you might find helpful.
He would have known that she came from money even if her name had not been entered on his appointment calendar.
a sentence like this demands a certain following structure. namely…
- why it,s obvious that she came from money, then
- her name and why that name screams money.
i,ll assume that the very next sentence after your passage says what her name is and the one after that explains why that name equals money, and focus here on the ,why it,s obvious, part that you,ve uploaded.
the ,which even now was simply and discreetly lettered: Personal Investigations., doesn,t quite work. firstly, it interupts the structure the first sentence demands. secondly, why ,even now,? thirdly, avoid using more than one adjective (simply and discreetly)
be careful with your description of the lady. anything you put here (before you get to her name) absolutely has to explain why it,s obvious - to an experienced private eye at least - that she has cash. unfortunately, that,s not always the case with what you,ve written. tall and erect? nope. moving with accuracy? goes to her focus and intent, but without some other explanation it doesn,t illustrate wealth. you need to either contextualise and contrast with how every other poor working stiff comes into the office, or explain something like she holds herself with the confidence that only comes from a long time spent in expensive schools. now i know you have put the contast in later, but given that that is 50 words after otherwise unconnected facts you,ve already got me disagreeing. given the hard-boiled style you,re going for that,s too long. consider switching it round to the contrast first and then why she differs.
also, the long list of qualities for the normal visitor doesn,t work for me. try painting the picture in a different way to make it sound less journalistic or technical. something like…
When a working man walks into a PI’s office he looks broken. His shoulders stoop with whatever weight he’s been carrying, and his eyes betray the tired desperation of a guy down to his last roll of the dice.
Think people can be described as coming from money: either old or new.
Maybe the lap dancer comes from old money and chooses to marry the UKIP millionaire.
Maybe the woman in the opening paragraph comes from new money.
I think “she came from money” is not a great expression. The word piano might come from Italian; stress might come from being out of control; Keith might come from Truro; or he might come from a family of philosophers; but no one really “comes from money” unless “money” is extrapolated out to mean something along the lines of “a wealthy family/background”. In which case, I’d suggest “She came from a wealthy family—old money.”
I mainly suggested a change in the first sentence (1) because it was so long, and (2) because simply having her name entered on a calendar doesn’t mean anything in terms of him knowing who she is or whether she is wealthy. It is whether he knows / recognises her name that is important.
“He would have known that she came from old money even if hadn’t already seen [recognised / read] her name on his calendar…”
thirdly, avoid using more than one adjective (simply and discreetly)
cough Furball induced typo, Floss? Adverb…
i,d argue for an adjective here: despite the fact that the author has written the section using form that would suggest an adverb / verb relationship, the prose is intended to imply that it is the letters themselves that are simple and discrete, and not that the decorator snuck in at the dead of night to paint the letters while nobody was looking.
whatever side you fall on semantically, it,s a phrase that could do with some tighter construction.
i don,t have a problem with the phrase ,came from money, of itself. i,m pretty comfortable with the idea that a pi might be able to tell from looking at a broad that she not only had money but also that she was born into it; that money and class was something received and not earned.
i,d be much more worried by ,came from old/new money,. how is someone supposed to tell just by looking at someone how their parents acquired the money? at that point i,d wonder if our pi wasn,t deluding himself with the first statement and it really was the name in the appointment calendar that was giving him this insight.
scratches head
Simple and discrete are adjectives.
Simply and discretely are adverbs.
But I agree with your point in general.
Why do all your apostrophes come out on the forum as commas?
you can come down either side or the argument semantically. i think of them as misspelt adjectives, you think of them as misapplied adverbs. the outcome is the same.
Why do all your apostrophes come out on the forum as commas?
KILL HIM CUS!!!
Cus Fluff
PS beware semantic black holes cus
beware semantic black holes cus
identified, labelled, moved on.
KILL HIM CUS!!!
i do feel like attacking something.
i [size=150]do[/size] feel like attacking something.
I see you’re honing your overstating skills. Like it cus
Cus Fluff
Afternoon all,
please do. i don,t post myself - my writing being restricted to felix and whiskers fan fiction - but in my role as a professional editor i do like to think my comments are helpful even if they aren,t always what the author wishes to hear. feedback is how we grow.
OK then. I’ve procrastinated about this long enough. Here’s the introduction to the short story / novella / novel that’s been kicking around inside my head for the better part of 12 years.
It’s set in the Shadowrun world. (See shadowrun4.com for details of this role-playing game. I’m not going to try and explain it all here. Just go and read the timeline if you want to read the “history of the world” as it relates to the game.)
Oh, if the moderators think this should be moved to it’s own thread or deleted, go right ahead.
V
It isn’t easy to explain or describe what happened to me. Nor is it easy to explain why I made my decision. It would be a trivial effort to say that I had little choice in the matter, but that is a lie. I freely chose, of my own accord.
We were, as we say, very big on the whole “free will” thing.
Who am I?
That is a very interesting question. My name is but a label so that others may identify me.
What is this “I”?
Is it the mass of flesh, blood, muscles and bone? I think not - that is merely a home for me. So, to all intents and purposes, “I” am an ethereal entity that happens to be housed in a body of flesh and blood. Yet I am so much more than that - I am all the experiences I have had, all the knowledge I have gained, and I am also contained in the memories of every person I have ever dealt with. Greater philosophers than I have debated this very point since time began, and suffice to say, this is not the time, nor indeed, the place for such delightful philosophical discussions.
Let us carry on our conversation (if a rambling, one-sided monologue can be construed as conversation) of what happened to me, why, and where it has taken me.
I have many names (or ‘labels’, if you prefer), but you may call me ‘Caine’.
Rei found my philosophical musings “quaint”, teasing me as my stylus moved across the plastic screen, leaving electronic remains of my pondering.
Who was Rei? She was all things to me - my lover, my teacher, my student, my creator.
The tale I am telling has no clear starting point, no definitive nexus that I may point at and say “There! That is the start.” So where shall I begin?
I could begin with a short history of the world, here in the second half of the 21st century. But the changes wrought after 2012 are recorded elsewhere - the rise of the mega-corporations, the multiple viral plagues that decimated the world’s population, the destruction and pollution of the environment, the rise (some say return) of Magic, and last, but not least; the sudden and unexpected separation of the human species into five separate sub-species, with all the explosions of violence and racial hatred that accompanied them.
But I shall leave such documents to those who are best suited to writing them.
I could being my tale with an uneven reminiscing of my life, but I shall defer. What happened earlier in my life plays no part in this tale.
To help you understand me, to aid you in your exploration of my tale, I shall embark upon a small detour, to expand upon what I have said above.
I am what is called an ‘Elf’, one of the new sub-species of humanity. We are not as dreadful as the creatures described by Tolkien, nor are we the ‘little people’ as described in so many children’s tales. Scientists have given us the taxonomy of ‘Homo Sapiens Nobilis’, although there is nothing terribly noble about many of us. On average, we stand about 1.9 metres tall, weigh between 65 and 75 kilograms, and usually have pale skin and very fair hair. Of all the 5 meta-species of humanity, we Elves are the most sensitive to Magic - which partly explains my traveling the painful and torturous path of becoming a Sorcerer.
Now that you have an idea of my physical appearance, and of the state of the world in which I live, I shall return to deciding where to begin my tale.
I think I shall begin in the crypt.
if i was your editor, this entire passage would have a very big red line all the way through it.
i,m sorry to have to put it this bluntly, especially since the writing itself is fine, but it is all - every single word of it - irrelevant. hell, you even describe it as rambling yourself, right there in the middle of your prose.
a couple of things to remember…
1 - if you are writing a genre piece within an established world you do not need to world build. you can assume that anyone buying a shadowrun novel will be familiar with the concepts of shadowrun.
2 - the thing about background is that is exactly where it belongs… in the background. drop any such information in only as required and do it inbetween the bits of story-telling.
in short, don,t tell me ,I think I shall begin in the crypt.,
just begin there. i mean it. actually there. in the crypt.
not eight words earlier when you tell me ,I think I shall begin in the crypt., but actually in the crypt.
not 623 words earlier either.
also, it is great that playing shadowrun has inspired you to tell your own stories. but here is the thing, books that tie-in to established media tend to be commissioned rather than bought. unless you already have a deal with the publisher, you are making it much harder that your writing will be elevated beyond fan fiction.
why not take the same basic premise and build your own world. you,ll do three things…
- improve your odds of publication
- reduce the amount of royalties you have to share with other people
- remove the constraints of fitting into someone else,s idea / world
Hi Floss,
My first thought was “Wow. That was f**king brutal.” My second thought was “You have a damned good set of points there.”
You’ve given me a lot to think about - most of which I hadn’t even considered. I think that some rewriting is in order. Now all I have to do is find the time, motivation and inspiration to do so.
Thanks.
V
I do wonder sometimes whether the black 'n white feline fur-balls that stalk this forum are actually physical manifestations of a certain Stockport gentleman’s left and right hemispheres.
…of a certain Stockport gentleman’s left and right hemispheres.
Master Bedturd, off-topicing, as we are all aware, is the unacceptable face of fora existence, however, the introduction of my human’s testicles to the proceeding, is a disgusting step too far, and assists young Viking, not one jot!
Young Master Viking,
Cousin Floss’ honest and constructive critique of you endeavour, leaves you with much food for thought, your enthusiasm in tact, and what’s more important…stimulated. Go forth, young warrior, and do good…stuff!
Fluff
Look, you furry fetid trollop, you’re only allotted nine you know. Time for some target practice, methinks.