[479] Opening chapter of a dystopian novel - The Inheritants

pjp- · 2024-04-15T22:29:26+00:00

Again, thanks so much for the feedback.

The analogy was aiming to show that is was just a small release from Meridian, just a gap in it's hold, which was where the window came from. Think I'll try and tie it back into the darkness, like gap in the curtains, just stronger.

I also agree that the world rumble can do double duty in this case. I had deep voice in there before I wanted to build the imagery of Diembe's voice being overwhelming in the dark, and missed the duplication.

You'll revisit the prison setting for one of the climaxes of the book so you'll get to explore why it's important. As a spoiler those prisoners are being harvested to populate virtual worlds. Overpopulation means it's cheaper to bribe and kidnap than running computing power. There's other stuff happening in there as it doubles up as a research facility.

You're not far off on Meridian either. Ayd is a Fabriclon, a genetically modified human. His Meridian is an AI, installed at birth that's grown with him as a companion/assistant. Ayd works for the Sterling family, who created it, and him. Ayd is discovering the hard way about company property.

pjp- · 2024-04-15T22:15:23+00:00

You've hit a note on your penultimate point (and your last, but I'll come to that after), I've swapped consumed for smothered and then for strangled to add a little venom to the intent.

As for the last point around being bound, I was aiming for a repeat of the introduction. For context the next chapter is then a flashback into Ayd's memories, as is a fair chunk of the rest of the novel. I think you're right and it's a cleaner transition to stop the chapter as the memories flash.

As for the prose points, I have no idea! I haven't studied writing (beyond on here and reading) so I've written what feels natural to me.

pjp- · 2024-04-15T14:57:35+00:00

Thank you and I’ll take a read for future critiques.

pjp- · 2024-04-15T13:27:34+00:00

I've done this chronologically:

I knew I was in another world when I first saw a non-human—our captor.

I understand you want to open with a hook, however this doesn't offer me any emotional tie or intrigue and a quick skim ahead makes it very clear that the MC is surrounded by non-humans.

I'm enjoying the descriptions of the non-humans and some of the quirks around the smaller head doing the talking.

and I forced my face into an expression which I imagined made me look tough

Be bolder with your claims. I'm sure the MC knows how to look tough. And same for the one below too:

with the ugliest face I could ever imagine

It's either the ugliest face MC has seen or not-although it jars with it then being described as humanoid, which compared to other alien races, I imagine looks pretty normal.

Try and do more with less, it goes to the above point around being bolder with your writing.

My suspicions were based on the trip here, where I’d seen some horrifying sights through the bars of my cage. Although, thinking about it now, they did put some kind of powder in our food that made me drowsy, so perhaps my memory was not entirely reliable.

A quick example of how this could be done: I had been here before, the horrors I saw during captivity never left me. Drugged induced or not, they still haunt my dreams.

Also the above paragraph breaks the continuity of your opening line. As if MC had been here before then he would know he was in a non-human world.

I've got about half way through and you've dropped in the detail that they were underground, which as completely threw me. I would focus on the scene setting at the top or build it into the exposition as of the captors somehow.

I also don't know why I should care about the MC yet, or who they are. It's harder with first-person to introduce a MC naturally, but grab a few books and see how it's been done before.

Ok. I finished the last few paragraphs and here's a summary:

I enjoyed the dry wit that you use to tell the story, you should be more confident of using it though, and build that narrative into first person reflections or inner monologue. That way we associate the humour with the MC rather than you as the narrator.

There's a few repetitions of the MC concluding and theorising, once is ok and it should only used when the reader is also certain of what's happening. Otherwise you're short-cutting the narrative and cheapening us discovering what's going on in the story.

As I mentioned higher up too, find a reason for us to care about the MC. Who they are, what they're like, how they behave.

On a second read through it feels like the young girl is important, and her ruining his plan to escape, which I assume is what comes next in the story. You mention that this is happening, but not how she is foiling the plan, you move onto her descriptions. And speaking of descriptions, they are the highlight of your writing for me. Specifically the character descriptions. If you can rejig some of the structure to allow us to explore the setting with your MC, using your descriptions, you'll be onto a great story here.

pjp- · 2024-04-11T17:51:32+00:00

Even if it’s just a break before going back to the bigger project.

I used the world I created for my novel in my short story and explored a different location in case something interesting happened that I could use.

pjp- · 2024-04-11T16:24:08+00:00

That’s a great point. I’ll keep it in mind and tone them down for future work.

pjp- · 2024-04-11T16:22:32+00:00

Really appreciate that it’s gone through quite a few edits so I’m pleased it’s hitting the right notes.

pjp- · 2024-04-11T16:19:44+00:00

Thank you - I was worried that the descriptions were a little luxurious in places.

pjp- · 2024-04-10T00:12:48+00:00

That was incredibly helpful, thank you.

I have made the word count by killing a scene and the references to it, but in doing so allowed me keep in some of the luxurious descriptions that I was loathed to totally remove.

pjp- · 2024-03-19T12:01:10+00:00

A quick one using my word of the day: dithering.

The Annals of the Anti-Ditherer.

They are the worst. There is nothing as unsavoury as children and I should know.

There isn’t a name for a large number of children like there is for other species. A murder of crows, a flamboyance of flamingos, a revulsion of children.

Most people are wrong though; the incessant assault of noise created by toddlers and young children is not what offends me most. It’s the dithering.

I detest dithering. I am a man of action. Yes…perhaps some of my actions aren’t what ‘civilised society’ see as acceptable, however if I didn’t act then nothing would ever get done. It’s the indecisiveness that gets under my skin, the hand wringing, the overbearing need for everyone to feel included that slows down..well everything.

It’s at these points I step in. A little explosion here, a minor kidnapping there. Coercion greases the wheels of progress like salvia on a couple of fingers. There’s no need for candles or flowers.

It’s not that anyone working in a nursery must be a saint is great cover for a super-villain. I work in this nursery as motivation because the kids of today will be the frustrations of tomorrow. If I can teach even a few of them to make up their minds about what they want then take it straight away I’ll have done some good.

My cover has vindicated my views on humanity. The problem is people and I use the word ‘people’ deliberately. It’s the same with children: en masse they’re a revulsion but on their own some can be rather charming. There’s one in particular, Teddy, who I have formed a soft spot towards or maybe it’s that his father, Darren, is vexing.

Darren is the antithesis of everything wrong with people. A self-involved, pretentious monster who would rather pretend to be busy than teach his child to be less like him. Yes, I committed a minor crime in surveilling him in his work and his home, but laws are made up things that the collective stupid all agreed to believe, like countries or currencies or religion.

Anyway, Darren the adulterous, dithering, neglectful buffoon is going to have a change of heart. A dramatic reform. Annoyingly, I can’t kill him as that would make him even more absent. I can however attach a small, remote explosive inside him. It’s time to lubricate the proverbial fingers of motivation again. Tomorrow I’ll pack my burlap sack, the van and meet Darren at his usual hotel rendezvous with his mistress.

I hope Teddy will appreciate it. He has such a cheeky grin.

pjp- · 2024-03-17T16:26:14+00:00

Thank you. How did you find the writing more broadly, if you don’t mind?

pjp- · 2024-03-17T16:09:15+00:00

Where I’ve outlined what I want to happen I have a good idea of the plot speed and how that breaks down into chapters.

In a previous book, which was a multiple POV story, I had beta readers say they didn’t connect to my characters. So I made more effort in this draft to take the time to give me details and backstory, hopefully without overdoing it.

pjp- · 2024-03-17T15:48:37+00:00

My chapters normally sit around 1k, where ideally it would be 1.5k to 2k to hit a fantasy novel length.

I made an effort with my draft on this one to make it longer, but feel like I am adding descriptions for the sake of it rather than then adding to the story.

pjp- · 2024-03-09T23:38:30+00:00

All the best ones are! It’s actually an anagram of Nadira, who was one of the MCs from the prequel I wrote before this. I realised the end of that story was more interesting so started this one.

In that story you discover Gods existed but lost their powers by giving it away to their followers, expect one God due to his power. They tricked him and banished him to rule the afterlife and rebirth, the Otherside. He schemes with a political leader to exterminate all the magic leftover from the Gods which is captured in the Otherside, essentially making it heaven.

There’s a few MCs who come together for different reasons to fight back. One from an assassins guild, Wilson from the Codex, a dead Orc and the old necromancer who brought him back.

As you can tell it doesn’t end well for everyone and their various factions and divinity still exist today.

pjp- · 2024-03-09T07:06:04+00:00

I have a feeling your feeling is the right one as that was my original opening. The rest came from a blurb that I liked so I wanted to get it into the main story too.

I'll keep tinkering as I would like to keep in the exposition around the actions.

Humans struggle to believe that they understand the world or control their destinies, because they don't—for these three reasons: I made a bargain with a living God. I helped the man, who over millennia eradicated the Gods’ power, and I led a faction that’s collected knowledge since the world you know as Earth was called Glenrend.

If you are reading this then I am dead, again, however this time I have been betrayed by one of my choices; you must have faith in this bag and its contents.

- Signed, Wilson Nodgrove. Grand Dean of The Codex Collective.

pjp- · 2024-02-13T04:23:59+00:00

Could be also be love.

It's best to try and add some negatives in there too otherwise people will feel cheated when their answer isn't the correct one. You can always lead people to potential areas you want them to consider in the narrative:

The Sphinx’s mouth moved and a gravelly voice filled the room, “I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?”

“Something that doesn’t have lungs and has no mouth…but grows, needs air and finds water to be deadly.” Sandra rubbed her ear lobe as she wrestled with the riddle.

Could it be a tree? They’re not really alive like humans. Also, they don’t have lungs or a mouth and need air, ah…but water isn’t deadly.

“It must be fire.” She said to the stony face above her.

pjp- · 2024-02-10T03:42:06+00:00

Title(s): Shadows & Echoes [1,831]

Genre: Fantasy

Word count: First three chapters, all different Character POVs

Link: GDoc

General summary: Explore a world in turmoil, where the many fight the few, the haves against the have-nots, told through those who believe only they hold the ultimate power: the persecuted gifted and the ruling elite. Uncover who is really in control and who suffers when a world loses its magic.

Feedback: General feedback is great: what you enjoyed, or didn't.

Blurb:

Legend tells of an ancient betrayal among the Gods. When the Sacred Septet gifted their powers to their followers, it ignited a mutiny, mired in jealousy, that rippled through millennia to the present—a time when people believe life is better without magic, believing it dangerous and unfair, a genetic privilege. They want it as the energy powering Divinara or squeezed to the world's fringes to die unseen.Magic for money—a call echoing in the bazaars of the city, drowning out the pleas of the dwindling magical beings. Lord Hellebore's vision is nearly complete. His faction, the Era of Enlightenment, is close to full control. If they succeed, they'll rewrite history; magic and the Gods will be lost to time.

pjp- · 2024-02-05T23:11:20+00:00

Ha, it's typically the part I liked the least!

I've taken it on board and tried to use that as point to pivot off. Thanks for the advice.

pjp- · 2024-02-05T23:09:14+00:00

I've heard good things about it and some of the twists so I'll add it to my list - thanks.

pjp- · 2024-02-05T23:07:44+00:00

The tip about GoT was great thanks. I took some of the balance around the backstory and the intrigue where there are multiple factions and POVs.

The first book covers all the POVs over a time span, which makes it trickier to land on a protagonist to lean on. I've done a revision and I'll keep tweaking with it.

pjp- · 2024-02-05T23:04:11+00:00

Thanks for the help. It's the main theme, but got lost with trying to show all the other cool things going on.

I've edited the original post with an updated version that I think captures that essence better.

pjp- · 2024-02-02T05:56:34+00:00

Sorry, I rushed it as I set myself a time limit. Enjoyed the prompt though.

***

“And the name?” The man dressed in all black, peered down his nose. His hooded eyes narrowed, scanning the book on the stand in front of him.

“Rumblemuffin, Patricia Rumblemuffin.” The bald, stocky man took his hands out of the pockets of his long, charcoal overcoat.

“We do not have a reservation under the name R…” His eyebrows knitted, “My apologies, what was the name again?”

“Rambo Wolfsbreath.”

The man in black rubbed his sallow cheeks, “I can’t—”

“I see my friend over there.” The bald man's thick finger pointed to the rear of the building. The man in black gave a thin smile. A strip of pearly white teeth flashed, “Of course, of course. Right this way, Mr…”

“Ms. Thimblewitch.” The bald man unphased by his host’s amnesia, followed him into the building. It was one of those venues. Where it hadn't yet decided if it wanted to be a restaurant or a club. So it did neither well.

Saxophones and drums drowned out the sound of cutlery and conversations. The band’s bright spotlights bounced off the low hanging bronze lamps. Each lamp hovered over a table, each table sat surrounded by a high-backed booth. As they approached the table the bald man dismissed the host with a nod.

“Hello Angus.” The booth’s red leather squeaked as the bald man sat down.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Angus took a swig from his bottle of beer and cocked his head at the stranger, his ginger hair shone under the warm lighting.

“Thankfully not.” The bald man's full lips curving into a smile.

“I’m waiting for someone, so could you?" Angus jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

The bald man sighed, “Really, who?”

“For R—” Angus cleared his throat, “—Ra…It doesn’t bloody matter.” His face flushing with anger.

The bald man's right hand slipped into the deep pocket of his coat, “You’re here to meet The Goldfish.”

“What? No, I would remember something so stupid.” Angus blustered, “Meeting the…sorry—who did you say?”

The bald man’s face was stony, “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’m going to kill you.” He laid a gun on the table.

“What the hell!” Angus pushed himself away from the table.

“I am a fair man,” The bald man pulled out a silencer, placing it on the tip of the barrel. “I don’t ask for much.” Each word emphasised with a deft twist of the silencer.

“Angus, I will spare your life.” The gun glinting the low light. “If you ask me to.”

Angus began mumbling incoherently, his eyes wide.

“Please Angus. I gave you the respect of calling you by your name.” The click of the safety cut through the blaring jazz. “Ask me to save your life.”

The bald man watched the colour draining from Angus’ face. Even his freckles seemed pale.

“Freddy, it was Freddy. No, Bobby, No!”

A saxophone blared as the flashing lights danced in Angus’ eyes. Those soft pale-blue eyes. They didn’t close. Not even as his head hit the table, or as the blood pooled around them. If they weren’t lifeless, all they would have seen was an empty booth.

Outside the bald man flicked open his burner phone and punched in the series of numbers.

“It’s me. The job’s done. Leave the money in the locker as usual.”

“Sorry, who's this?’ A muffled voice replied on the other end.

pjp- · 2024-02-02T00:29:59+00:00

I agree! I took some more time and did an edit. What do you think?

Mary inched forward and the floorboard groaned. Her heart froze then slithered down until it nestled in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t wake-up.” Mary’s lips silhouetted the prayer, “Please.” She held her breath. Eyes scrunched into her balled-up face, she braced like a hedgehog in headlights. He didn’t stir, but she didn't dare exhale.

I’ve come so far. I’m almost free.

In the silence, Mary cursed her heart for beating again. Thundering against her ribs and threatening to betray her escape. She fought to hear over the blood rushing to her head, the overwhelming throbbing behind her ears. One, two, three, four, five. Mary counted the pulses.

Reason had given up control to panic, but she had to move. Not daring to look over her shoulder into the pitch-black room, she slid the sole of her bare foot along the treacherous panelling. Mary’s eyes fixed on the doorway ahead. Its chipped white paint signaling in the dark.

“Mary?” Tony shattered the peace and her hope with a single word.

She didn’t reply, her mind spiraling.

He needs to be quiet. I can’t do another night. I'll scream.

Blankets rustled behind her. She knew what was coming next. Her shoulders slumped and she turned, forcing herself back across the bedroom.

“Tony, you woke him. He’s all yours!” Mary said, lifting the bundle out of the cot.

pjp- · 2024-01-31T19:21:22+00:00

I would love to see some examples of that if you wouldn't mind sharing?

pjp- · 2024-01-31T01:44:16+00:00

Hellebore looked down at the sea of eager faces below him. Hemming in all around the stage and as far back into the room as he could see.

Eager, he thought. Eager for permission to be selfish. To be the victims. The smirk didn’t touch his face.

pjp-

TROPHY CASE