Post the first paragraph of your WIP here and get feedback

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  • #39782
    R.M. Archer
    @r-m-archer

    @jenwriter17 Ooh, interesting. 😀

    Fantasy/dystopian/sci-fi author. Mythology nerd. ENFP. Singer.

    #39885
    Warden
    @nuetrobolt

    @esjohnson

    Actually, the story is not going to be very historically accurate. (Is this not clear? (If so, please tell me)), but everything after the pre-prologue is in the book that Edward is reading. Is that dumb? This is my first serious novel, and so I know I’m not very good at it yet.

    Oh, I shouldn’t have posted so much, I guess.


    @r-m-archer
    , would you care to list a few places with grammatical/spelling mistakes?

     

    Your story is yours and no one else's. Each sunset is different, depending where you stand. -A. Peterson

    #39886
    Warden
    @nuetrobolt

    You all have very interesting stories.

    Your story is yours and no one else's. Each sunset is different, depending where you stand. -A. Peterson

    #39889
    R.M. Archer
    @r-m-archer

    @nuetrobolt I’ll copy the line and then put my edit in italics. (I’m used to commenting on a document where I can comment on specific lines, so this might not be the most efficient way to do this. XP) There are a lot of them, but most of the changes are pretty minor. A lot of the edits are just altered punctuation or capitalization.

    He picked up one weathered piece at random, and gazed at the jagged outlines of the world, and its three continents, Europe, Asia, and Africa.

    He picked up one weathered piece at random and gazed at the jagged outlines of the world and its three continents: Europe, Asia, and Africa.

    All the maps were similar, many of them older and not as updated, and others newer, and more updated.

    All the maps were similar, many of them older and not as updated, others newer and more updated.

    But, the more he had thought about it, the more he realized that it was likely true. He had observed things which could only account in a round earth.

    But the more he had thought about it, the more he realized that it was likely true. He had observed things which could only occur on a round earth.

    What would come of his job, and the jobs of many other cartographers, if the earth was proved round.

    What would come of his job, and the jobs of many other cartographers, if the earth was proven round?

    “In the Shadow of the Falls,” he read, as he looked fondly at the book.

    “In the Shadow of the Falls,” he read as he looked fondly at the book.

    A many masted ship pushed laboriously through the torrent, being tossed about by the waves as though it was a toy sailboat.

    A many-masted ship pushed laboriously through the torrent, tossed about by the waves as though it was a toy sailboat.

    “Everyone! Stay calm!” Came a bellow from the upper decks.

    “Everyone! Stay calm!” came a bellow from the upper decks.

    Wind howled, and an icy blast soared through, forcing the scarlet cloaked speaker to clutch his cape tighter around him.

    Wind howled and an icy blast soared through, forcing the scarlet-cloaked speaker to clutch his cape tighter around himself.

    “Everyone!” The crimson clad man was now joined by another, stouter man. “Everyone!” The short captain bellowed again, “Lord Philip is right! We need every last man to fight this storm! We will not let this storm master us over the edge! How many of you has had nightmares of the edge of the world? Well now, let those nightmares fill your mind! But don’t let yourself give up! We need everyone if we are to break the force of these seas, to ride this storm, and to escape from the strangling of the edge! We will not give up without a fight, will we men?!”

    “Everyone!” The crimson-clad man was joined by another, stouter man. “Everyone!” the short captain bellowed again. “Lord Philip is right! We need every last man to fight in this storm. We will not let this storm master us over the edge. How many of you has had nightmares of the edge of the world? Well now let those nightmares fill your mind! But don’t let yourself give up. We need everyone if we are to break the force of these seas, to ride this storm, and to escape from the strangling of the edge. We will not give up without a fight, will we men?” (I eliminated many of the exclamation marks because it’s clear from the setting/context and the words themselves that he’s speaking powerfully, so it reads smoother with fewer exclamation marks.)

    Philip the first turned, his cape a flash of red, and looked at his captain with admiration. “You handled that nicely.”

    Philip the First turned, his cape a flash of red, and looked at his captain with admiration. “You handled that nicely.”

    A high octave schreech rent the night, followed by sevaral others.

    A high-octave screech rent the night, followed by several others.

    “That’s the biggest darn rat I’ve ever seen,” Philip muttered, and then leapt onto the lower deck, trying to draw his sword as he did.

    “That’s the biggest darn rat I’ve ever seen,” Philip muttered. He leapt onto the lower deck, trying to draw his sword as he did.

    He held the sword menacingly; the thought, that he had absolutely no experience with weapons, only briefly crossing his mind.

    He held the sword menacingly. The thought that he had absolutely no experience with weapons only briefly crossed his mind. (This would be even better if you could show him holding it menacingly rather than tell. Have him hold it up toward the monster and show his expression, for instance.)

    A great alga covered serpentine body had risen out of the water, draped carelessly with sea weed and various mollusks.

    A great, algae-covered, serpentine body had risen out of the water, draped carelessly with seaweed and various mollusks.

    Rufus, nodded astutely, and made his way towards the lower decks in obedience. Plop, his iron-cuffed boots dashed grime about as he plodded through one of the many puddles dampening the rough deck.

    Rufus nodded astutely and made his way toward the lower decks. Plop. His iron-cuffed boots dashed grime about as he plodded through one of the many puddles dampening the rough deck.

    The red caped lord listened to the dying away taps of his manservant, and readied himself for battle, for his death.

    The red-caped lord listened to the dying-away taps of his manservant and readied himself for battle. For his death.

    Philip could hear the rowboat splash the violent ocean as Rufus and his son, his only son, began their escape. He recognized the distinctive splosh of oars, as they cut through the water.

    Philip could hear the rowboat splash the violent ocean as Rufus and his son — his only son — began their escape. He recognized the distinctive splosh of oars as they cut through the water.

    Philip thought back to the most recent time he had held little Philip the second and stroked his adorable pudgy cheeks.

    Philip thought back to the most recent time he had held little Philip the Second and stroked his adorable pudgy cheeks.

    Philip stepped forward, leaned all his weight onto his right foot, and swung, wildly, for the first, yet also the last time.

    Philip stepped forward, leaned all his weight onto his right foot, and swung wildly for the first and last time.

    Fantasy/dystopian/sci-fi author. Mythology nerd. ENFP. Singer.

    #39892
    R.M. Archer
    @r-m-archer

    @nuetrobolt It’s not particularly clear that the majority of the story is the book he’s reading. Does Edward become more important later on? Is part of the book his story and part of it Philip’s? Or is it just Philip’s after the pre-prologue?

    Fantasy/dystopian/sci-fi author. Mythology nerd. ENFP. Singer.

    #39894
    Zachary Holbrook
    @toklaham-veruzia

    There was something deeply wrong about the Rage.

    “Not this time, Dairenat,” Keylori said, fighting back the green-and-black mist that was trying to creep over her eyes. She would have swatted him away, if his form were anything more substantial than an illusion. Instead she raised her soul sword and narrowed her eyes at the invading army.

    “Seriously?” Dairenat pointed at the largest of the landing boats. Two figures, resplendent in gleaming armor reminiscent of Keylori’s own, stood at the helm, weapons raised. “You couldn’t possibly defeat two Zofayn Knights at once without my help, even if they weren’t bonded.”

    “How do you know? You’ve never seen me try,” Keylori responded, assuming a battle stance as Dairenat had taught her to do long ago. The armored skirt of her ferroplate spread out easily, allowing legs to move freely.

    “Because if I had, you’d be dead,” said Dairenat. 

    Keylori assessed the enemy knights. A man and a woman, probably married – among the Zofayn Knights, couples always went into battle together. Only the man had a soul sword. His partner wielded a double-bladed battle-axe. The landing boat bumped against a reef, and the knights leapt out, splashing across the shallows and charging across the beach towards Keylori. Behind them, the rank-and-file soldiers of the Syjanite army disembarked and engaged the troops under Keylori’s command. Both sides gave Keylori and her opponents wide berth, leaving a bubble around them, empty but for the bodies of those who had died in the first wave of the assault strewn across the beach.

    When elephants fought, mice got out of the way. When storm fronts clashed, ships got out of the way. When opposing Paladins brought their soul swords to the field of battle, ordinary soldiers got out of the way. For once the Rage took over, the bladesouls hungered indiscriminately, and would just as soon strike down one of their own side than one of the enemy’s. 

    “I would never do that,” Dairenat said.

    “Stop reading my mind.”

    “Sorry.” Dairenat shrugged, his hands casually folded as he surveyed the battle. “How exactly are you planning to handle this situation?”

    “I haven’t tried intimidating them with my fearsome reputation yet,” Keylori said. She plunged her soul sword down into the sand. Dairenat vanished as she reached up and pulled the helm off her head. Her red hair uncoiled and streamed behind her, identifying her in the eyes of the enemy beyond a shadow of doubt. Female Paladins might not be uncommon among the Zofayn Knights, but there was only one on the Faori side of the war. They hated her, and feared her as well. Keylori hoped the latter passion would triumph in their hearts today.

    It didn’t. The two Zofayn Knights screamed a battle cry and increased the speed of their charge the moment they recognized her. Keylori jammed her helmet back on her head, not bothering to gather her hair up under it before doing so. She reached down and grabbed her soul sword.

    “So, do we get to try things my way now?” Dairenat asked, reappearing beside her. 

    “Your way always leaves a lot more corpses,” murmured Keylori. Dark clouds began to creep over her eyes again. 

    Dairenat sniffed in disdain. “Why do you sound disappointed? It’s a rather admirable trait for a sword, I would say.”

    おはいよう. 日本語は好きです .

    #40156
    Katthewriter
    @katthewriter

    Hey this is the first bit of My book Unknown, that i’m co-authoring with my amazing friend Alyssa. So i write 2 chapters then she writes 1 chapter, she having from her character’s POV. So this chapter is from my character POV.

     

    1

     

    “After her!”

    My blood turned cold when I heard those words. My head and heart were pounding in rhythm with my feet. I ran on and on. I felt like any second I would fall and collapse to the ground, I was so tired. But the fear of what was following me kept me going. I could tell they were gaining on me. I saw a tree with an empty hollow, I made a quick decision, and hid inside it. I held my breath as I heard feet run past. Even after I could hear them no more I sat there for hours, wondering if someone was standing right out there, ready to pounce on me as soon as I got out.

    It started to get dark and still I stayed there, rock still, not moving a muscle. I wasn’t sure if the rustling was someone walking or just the trees moving, and if the whistling was some person waiting for me, or just the wind, and I wasn’t even sure if

    the noise I kept hearing right outside the tree was a person ready to pounce or just a stray animal. And so, that was the thing that kept me there, the unknown.

    I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes it was light. Both of my feet were like pins and needles from being in that position so long, and all my muscles were cramped and sore. I decided to take the chance and peeked out of the hollow. There was no one, so I slowly crawled out, and got to my feet. I was surprised how pretty it looked now that it was morning. The tall grass was covered in the morning dew, and all along it there were little white flowers. Going from flower to flower were fat bumble bees and some monarch butterflies. All I could hear was some chirping birds and the gentle sound of the wind whistling through the trees. It was a wonderful thing after that horrible night.

    Though it was beautiful, it didn’t comfort me in the slightest. I dropped to my knees and collapsed to the ground, and for once, I wanted to, needed to, cry. Because of all the hurt, confusion, and pain the last few days. But I was so used to holding it in, and biting it back that I didn’t know how. So I just laid there, breathing hard, my insides were screaming, but on the outside I was silent.

    I don’t know how long I laid there, but it felt like hours. I sat up, with my stomach knotted up so much from biting back my emotions that I could scream. But I knew I really couldn’t, it was too dangerous for me. Way to dangerous, because as soon as I let it out, they’d be there, on top of me, ready to drag me away. Then they’d tie me up and—I cringed at the thought. No, I wasn’t going to do anything that would allow me to get caught, I’m not going back into that, not again. Not ever again. Though I don’t know about the unknown ahead, I do know that I’m never going back to the known of the past.

    Though I was exhausted I managed to get to my feet, and lean against the tree. I tried hard to ignore the sharp pains of hunger that were gnawing in my stomach, and instead try to think of the way that the men after me were going and which way I should go so I wouldn’t run into them again.

     

    #40162
    Warden
    @nuetrobolt

    @katthewriter, good job. I just wanted to mention you missed a capital at the beginning of the fourth paragraph. I have a lot more punctuation mistakes, but that lowercase ‘t’ was just bugging me.

    Your story is yours and no one else's. Each sunset is different, depending where you stand. -A. Peterson

    #40172
    Katthewriter
    @katthewriter

    @nuetroboit that paragraph is not supposed to be there, let me fix that!

    ugh no.. it’s too late for me to edit, that’s part of the paragraph before, the ‘the’ is supposed to be after the ‘if’

    • This reply was modified 2 years, 4 months ago by Katthewriter.
    #40185
    naomijackson
    @naomijackson

      @katthewriter Hi Kat!

      Looks like you have a great start to your story!

      I thought I would mention a few “content” type things because typos and all that are some of the easiest things to weed out. XD

      A few things I noticed:

      *You began the story with a direct quotation. (Most authors stay away from beginning a book with a direct quotation because the first sentence is so crucial for getting things off on the right foot and setting the foundation of the Who What Where When Why.) I also noticed that the quotation isn’t credited–and the person who spoke it doesn’t seem to be in the next few paragraphs. It just felt a little awkward to have a quotation begin the entire story, without ever knowing who said it.

      *I like how your story is off with a BANG–the main character is already neck deep in whatever is going on and is definitely going someplace fast. The caution I would have with that is not to wait too long to tell your readers what is going on. It can be incredibly frustrating to read about someone being chased and not know WHY.

      *The contrast between night/being scared and then beautiful day/still being scared is great. *high five* I like that it’s not the cliche “Everything seemed better in the morning.” 🙂

      *Writing first person POV means that it can become stream of consciousness very quickly–which can be fine. The trick is to maintain a narrative flow at the same time. Basically, your POV character is playing two roles: them, and narrator. This is a problem when there isn’t anyone else to help quantify your MC. Is it a girl or a boy? Young or old? Human or not (depending on the genre)? These are all questions that need to be answered within the first chapter so your reader can relax into the story itself.

      *One thing I cannot recommend enough is to read your work out loud!! Reading out loud helps you check awkward sentence structure and believability. I can’t count how many times I’ve written something that sounded amazing in my head but became so stupid out loud. 😉 This is also the #1 way I’ve found of getting rid of excess words. If you stumble over a word every time you read it, it most likely doesn’t need to be there at all. 😉

      *If she/he is being chased, why is she/he laying in a field for what seemed like hours right after having slept that night? *an honest question from a curious reader*

      Great job on your start! I would definitely keep reading if there was more!

      (And sorry if I nerded on you too much. Please know that everything was typed in a great spirit of excitement and a true desire to help. I love stories so much I can’t keep myself from trying to help them grow. ;))

      A dreamer who plans, and a planner who dreams; a paradox.

      #40192
      ESJohnson
      @esjohnson

      Great job everyone!

      Don't blame me if I spill the ink of my mind on your carpet. I just figured it needed a makeover.

      #40203
      Warden
      @nuetrobolt

      @katthewriter, I should have noticed that! I see I’m not a very good editor.

      Your story is yours and no one else's. Each sunset is different, depending where you stand. -A. Peterson

      #40245
      Sarah Inkdragon
      @sarah-inkdragon

      Hello again everyone! I’m back with the first few paragraphs of a romance WIP I’m plotting, still unnamed. It’s about a shape-shifting prince and a human princess, with plenty of political intrigue, mistaken identities, a masked ball, and soul colors. Anyhow, here you are:

      The person I’m about to tell you about is possibly the nicest, kindest, most fiery and willful person on the face of the earth.

      I hate her with an equally as fiery passion.

      Why? Simple–she is human. Everything we hate.

      Everything we aren’t.

      She is Tasmania de Exceleste, the heir of the human race.

      And I? I am Ryul de Tsuko, the son of King Rorik de Tsuko, lord of the Mountains of Day and Night. I am the Pale Soul. The next in a line of greats, the one and only heir of the king and the second greatest shape-shifter mage in the world.

      And this world? This world is the world of the War of Day and Night.

      What do you think? I want a slightly biased and prejudiced feel, with some satire, as well as a bit of foreboding towards the end. So go, and butcher it, my wee dragons. 😉

      "A hard heart is no infallible protection against a soft head."

      - C. S. Lewis

      #40280
      ESJohnson
      @esjohnson

      @sarah-inkdragon I’m definitely hooked. Someone’s about to fall in love…. 😏

      Don't blame me if I spill the ink of my mind on your carpet. I just figured it needed a makeover.

      #40289

      Here’s mine: 🙂

      The cheerful, white clapboard church looked out on the brooding bay far below. Warm sunlight glinted on the wild, foaming waves. Rosie King sat on a gravestone, swinging her legs, watching her friends, neighbors, and relatives arrive in their appropriate dark attire. They were all here for Betty Clay.

      Rosie didn’t specifically know how she was related to Betty. She could have been a fourth or fifth cousin twice removed, or a great-aunt’s brother’s sister—no one really knew. The tie was weak but evidently existed.

      She surveyed the gathering townsfolk.

      Mrs. Gleason was loudly sobbing into her handkerchief, intermittently stopping for a breath of air. Rosie smothered a smile. It was surprising  Mrs. Gleason had even come. Of course, she could be crying from happiness.

      The Clays were already inside, as their buggy was tied up at the hitching post.

      The only person who looked happy was Mrs. Thompson, who had always envied Betty for her first prize blueberry pie. She was probably planning on going over to the Clay house today to try to steal the recipe. Unless Betty had the foresight to burn it, Mrs. Thompson would be the new champion of the pie contest this year.

      Rosie could see the Colemans riding slowly up the lane in their buggy, looking as somber as humanly possible. Quite fitting for a funeral, but then they always looked like that. Grandmother always said the Colemans owned was because they believed a Christian was to be serious about all matters. Then they definitely took it to heart. Mr. Coleman’s mouth looked like a prune from so many disapproving looks.

      And there was Hilda. Rosie’s eyes danced. This would be interesting.

      Hilda Coleman strode over to Rosie. At Rosie’s amused look, Hilda arched her eyebrows and pinched her mouth exactly like her father. “I’m so sorry to hear about your…your relative, Rosie,” Hilda said, in her confidential, droning voice. “I’m sure you and your family are desolate from grief.” Her frog-like eyes blinked hypnotically.

      “We are still in mourning, as you can see, Hilda,” Rosie said, dropping her eyes innocently. “I think I’ll be wearing black for a few more days.”

      Hilda’s eyes bulged—even more than they usually did. “Well, I never! You’re going to have to wear it for at least week do be decent! Think about poor Betty, in her grave—“

      “She’s not in her grave yet,” Rosie inserted.

      Hilda cleared her throat. “Think about poor Betty, in her coffin, knowing her own relations don’t care for her enough to wear decent mourning clothes.” She shook her head and looked at the ground. “It’s a sad, sad world,” she said.

      “Don’t you find that interesting, Dirt?” said Rosie, also looking at the ground.

      Hilda looked down her nose at Rosie. “You’re not fit to talk to right now. I’m actually sorry for you, you know. You’re probably so upset you don’t know what you’re saying.” She smiled sugar-sweetly. “Goodbye, Rosie.”

      Rosie watched Hilda clomp indignantly back to her parents. Hilda made life so interesting.

      Spreading God's love until I can see seven billion smiles. 🙂 https://sevenbillionsmiles.home.blog

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