Basically, all i ever wanted while i was growing up was to be a writer (apart from when i wanted to be a palaeontologist after seeing Jurassic Park), But i gave up on the idea when i realised i wasn't particularly talented with words. It was about a month ago i thought that i might as well give it a go and after several drafts i have the first chapter of a story that has been in my head for at least a year. I've seen that there are lots of writers on EC and i was hoping you guys could read it and give me some advice and/or criticisms. Please feel free to be as harsh as you like, if you think its awful then tell me. Thanks in advance. Chapter One Meet Phil It was another one of those days, the same as yesterday and the day before that. The quintessentially English small town street was covered in the familiar fine grey dust, dust which seemed to fall almost constantly from the thick dark clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. The sun rarely ever ventured from behind the clouds anymore, even less than normal for Britain. The row of town houses seemed to be drained of colour, as if the dust had turned the world into an old black and white Victorian drama, the residents had long since given up on keeping their once gleaming windows and doors clean. The street seem devoid of all life, no footprints in the settled dust, no birds singing, the trees didn’t even hold leaves anymore. Britain wasn’t alone in this depressing sight, the dust had stolen life from all corners of the world, leaving those left with a daily struggle. Despite the lack of apparent life, an expensive looking black car with tinted windows was making its way, slowly and carefully, down the street. The driver occasionally slowing to a crawl, clearly looking for a particularly house, until finally coming to a complete stop outside of an unremarkable end terraced house. Without missing a beat, the chauffeur stepped out of the car and retrieved a rather large black umbrella from the boot, moving quickly, he opened the passenger door and held the umbrella open as an elderly gentleman clamoured out of the car. The gentleman was impeccably dressed in a fine, and clearly very expensive, tailored suit. His thick white hair seemed to almost glow against the grey background as he smiled to his chauffeur. “Thank you Frank, but If you don’t mind I think it would be best if I were to go alone.” Said the gentleman in a deep and youthful voice which didn’t match his elderly features “If you think that’s best sir, I’ll wait in the car until you’re finished.” Replied the chauffeur as he handed the umbrella over to the gentleman “Hopefully I shouldn’t be too long, if you could keep the car running until I return” The elderly gentleman had a weathered look about him, deep wrinkles spread over his face like a poorly drawn underground map, the bags under his eyes seemed more of a permanent feature rather than the after effect of no sleep. His eyes were a steely blue, he had the kind of eyes that looked as if they’d seen too much, tired eyes that were ready to give up on seeing constant suffering. Even though his features showed his age, he had the energy and stride of a man half his years, he made his way up the pathway to the house in a flash and made three short knocks on the door. The door, quite like the rest of the house, was generally unremarkable, no signs of anything unusual, a half decent blue paintjob, a cheap but fancy looking plastic knocker and a small “bell broken” sign taped over the buzzer were the only noticeable features. The gentleman seemed restless and after checking his watch, knocked sharply another three times while muttering under his breath. “I don’t care who you are, or what you want, I’m not interested. So go away.” replied a voice almost immediately to knocks. The owner was obviously waiting from behind the door, maybe trying and failing to see who it was through the dust covered peep hole. “I’m afraid, Mr Mitchell, that I wont be going anywhere until I have spoken to you. And I have to say, this dust certainly wont do my health any good.” In an almost immediate response to the gentleman’s voice, the door swung open and revealed the owner of the house. He was a thin and balding man in his 50’s, wearing an old and tatty looking beige dressing gown with slippers to match. His thick rimmed tortoise shell glasses seemed to magnify his eyes to a comical size, giving him a look of constant surprise. He obviously hadn’t had a shave in several days and the gentleman suspected that he probably hadn’t changed out of the dressing gown in just as long. “I’m so sorry sir, p-please come in. If I had known you were coming I would have tidied the house, please forgive my attitude sir…” Stammered Mr Mitchell as he moved aside and allowed the gentleman into his home. “Not at all, I assume you’ve had many unwanted callers just lately and I understand how difficult the pressure must be, you didn’t ask for the attention after all.” “It’s no excuse sir, please make yourself at home, I just need to change into something more acceptable than this grubby old dressing gown.” “Please, There’s no need for that Mr Mitchell, I shan’t be staying long, I’ve only come for a quick chat” Mr Mitchell seemed thoroughly confused by the whole situation and led the gentleman into his cramped living room and offered him a seat on the only chair in the room before rushing off to find a stool from the dining room. It was obvious that Mr Mitchell lived alone, the living room looked like it needed an extremely thorough cleaning, piles and piles of yellowing notes were stacked all over the room. The TV looked as if it hadn’t been turned on in years, the chair wasn’t even facing it, fading pictures of what must have been Mr Mitchells childhood were propped up on the mantle. The only thing in the room that didn’t appear old and abandoned was a complex looking computer sat at cramped desk, it looked as if Mr Mitchell had built it himself out of whatever was lying around the house. Mr Mitchell soon appeared with a chair and sat himself down nervously in front of the gentleman and waited to hear the reason for the surprise visit. “There is no need to look so nervous Mr Mitchell, I’m only here for a chat” “Please, I’d prefer Phillip, sir.” “And I would prefer people to call me Michael but, unfortunately for me, people cant help but feel awkward if they’re not talking to me in a formal manner. But if that is what you prefer, ok. Phillip, Why have you been ignoring our invitations?” “You came all this way just to ask me that sir, I mean M-Michael. For you to take the time to come here and talk to me about this seems a bit strange if I’m honest.” mumbled Philip while avoiding Michaels eyes. Michael seemed to be amused by his response and gave a genuine and warming smile, “But you’re the reason I am able to make this house call Phillip, if it wasn’t for your remarkable programme we wouldn’t have been able to finish the project in twice the time it has taken us. If that isn’t worthy of a place, I don’t know what is.” “I thought all places were allotted by lottery…” “Exceptions are made, we have had to select certain individuals with required skills in order for the mission to be a success. So why haven’t you accepted our invitation?” “But there are thousands of people more qualified than me…” Michael was clearly getting impatient with Phillips avoidance of the issue and started taking a harsher tone, “I don’t mean to seem rude Phillip, but I am a very busy man and you appear to have a skill at avoiding questions as well as your skill with computers, Now I will ask you one last time, why haven’t you accepted our invitation?” With a heavy sigh and deep breath, Phillip started to rub his eyes and explain his reasons, “I’m too old sir, you’re going to need people younger and fitter than me. I’m just an old man who happens to be good with computers, I don’t want to take the place of someone more deserving.” “Phillip, you’re selling yourself rather short. If it wasn’t for CAIT there wouldn’t be a mission, no one knows the programme like you and no one ever will. You’re not just some computer expert who would be quite useful, you’re a genius that is essential. Now if that is truly your reason for ignoring the invitation, I refuse to accept no as an answer. You’re going.” At that, Michael got out of the chair and reached into his pocket, pulling out a rather thick brown envelope and handing it to Phillip, “This contains all the information you need, if you have any questions, any at all, I have written my own personal phone number inside. Now I’m afraid I have a very important meeting to attend that I’m already rather late for.” “Of course, of course, please let me show you to the door.” Phillip sprang up and began showing Michael to the door, quickly peering out of the window and checking the weather. While it never really changes, dust storms are known to occur and they leave a trail of destruction in their wake. “I checked the weather this morning Phillip, there’s no storm due today.” “Force of habit sir” Phillip carefully opened the door and let Michael out into the dust, the car, still sat silently rumbling, had a layer of dust settled on its roof from staying in place for too long. Just as Michael bid his goodbye and was halfway down the path, Phillip thought of a question and called out, “Sir! I was just wondering, would you be joining us on the mission?” Michael turned round and smiled, giving his face a youthful expression “No, I’m afraid not. I withdrew my name from the lottery, I am too old. Besides, I think I will be needed here more.” “I understand, that’s an incredibly selfless decision you’ve made. For what its worth, I think you’d be an excellent addition.” “That is kind of you to say, but alas the deed is done. I bid you farewell Mr Mitchell” “Goodbye and Thank you, Mr Prime Minister, Sir.” After closing the door, Phillip turned round and headed straight to the kitchen. He wasn’t normally a drinker, but he figured if this wasn’t worthy of a drink, then nothing would be. It had been a long time since Phillip had filled his cupboards with anything other than basic rations, but he did manage to find a bottle of old cooking sherry hidden behind a stack of ancient baked beans. Pouring himself a large glass, he shuffled into the living room and sank into his armchair. His mind started racing, The prime-minister, the actual prime minister had just been to his house, had just sat in his chair and offered him a chance to change his life. It all seemed surreal, like a particular strange and lucid dream. His thoughts turned to what he’d have to leave behind, this wasn’t just some quick job, this was a one way trip. Phillip slowly looked around the cramped room and sighed, he didn’t really have a life. No friends, just piles of code and his computer. Groaning, Phillip got out of the chair and walked over to the photographs on the mantle, smiling as he remembered his old life, the one that was really keeping him back. A young couple smiling to the camera, waving on some sunny beach, his honeymoon, the happiest memory he had. He hadn’t told Michael, but the real reason he didn’t want to go was he didn’t want to leave the memories of his wife behind, but seeing her face smiling up at his, he knew deep down that she would want him to go. After gulping down his sherry, Phillip took a last look at the living room and resigned himself to the fact that this wasn’t going to be his home for much longer and he slowly made his way upstairs to pack for his new life.
The content seems good but your sentence structure uses a lot of commas, which can make reading it tiresome. Longer sentences are okay sometimes, but almost all of your sentences are like this. Here I've bolded alternating sentences so you can see how long some of them are: The elderly gentleman had a weathered look about him, deep wrinkles spread over his face like a poorly drawn underground map, the bags under his eyes seemed more of a permanent feature rather than the after effect of no sleep. His eyes were a steely blue, he had the kind of eyes that looked as if they’d seen too much, tired eyes that were ready to give up on seeing constant suffering. Even though his features showed his age, he had the energy and stride of a man half his years, he made his way up the pathway to the house in a flash and made three short knocks on the door. The door, quite like the rest of the house, was generally unremarkable, no signs of anything unusual, a half decent blue paintjob, a cheap but fancy looking plastic knocker and a small “bell broken” sign taped over the buzzer were the only noticeable features. The gentleman seemed restless and after checking his watch, knocked sharply another three times while muttering under his breath. And here I've swapped some for fullstops, dashes, colons or semicolons to change the flow a bit: The elderly gentleman had a weathered look about him. Deep wrinkles were spread over his face like a poorly drawn underground map, and the bags under his eyes seemed more of a permanent feature rather than the after effect of no sleep. His eyes were a steely blue - the kind of eyes that looked as if they’d seen too much, tired eyes that were ready to give up on seeing constant suffering. Even though his features showed his age, he had the energy and stride of a man half his years. He made his way up the pathway to the house in a flash and made three short knocks on the door. The door, quite like the rest of the house, was generally unremarkable: a half decent blue paintjob, a cheap but fancy looking plastic knocker, and a small “bell broken” sign taped over the buzzer were the only noticeable features. The gentleman seemed restless and after checking his watch, knocked sharply another three times while muttering under his breath.
Hello there! Is an interesting story, have to say. Also, it's better written that some "proffesional" writting I've seen, so you are on your way! There are minor things to change, like you should avoid repeating the same word after a comma or a period, like: It's better if you use it like this: "The quintessentially English small town street was covered in the familiar fine grey dust, which seemed to fall almost constantly from the thick dark clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see." Also: Better if you use it like this: "Even though his features showed his age, he had the energy and stride of a man half his years, he made his way up the pathway to the house in a flash and made three short knocks on the door. Quite like the rest of the house, the door was generally unremarkable, no signs of anything unusual, a half decent blue paintjob, a cheap but fancy looking plastic knocker and a small “bell broken” sign taped over the buzzer were the only noticeable features." Also, remember some of the rules of the writter. It doesn't matter if you're not good enough just yet, you just need practice, practice, practice!! - Write. Write when you're bored, write when you're busy, write when you have something to say, write when you have nothing to say, just write, write, write. - Write whatever the circumstances you are into. If you're poor, or rich, on jail or school, it doesn't matter. - Never let people to diminish your enthusiasm, you may not write things that every person will enjoy, but as long as you enjoy writing, everything else doesn't matter. - Writting is an art. And as such, you always look up for your own kind of perfection. Never let other things to govern what you write. - An important rule: if you want to write stories, be aware that stories already exist, the job of the writer is not to create them, but to give them a suitable body to exist on our reality. This also means you have to watch the extention of your writing: if the story is so big (includes a whole universe) that it wouldn't fit on fewer words, you should write a novel, but if the story is limited to an event or ocurrence, you should write a short story, therefore: - Write just the right extention of your story, one too short written like a novel will result in a failed novel. One story too long written like a short story will result in an incomplete story. Hope this help you at all!!(*hug*)
I really enjoy your writing style! Congrats on getting a start on your dream! I know you may have not thought you were a good writer before, but I see great potential, and I myself am looking into becoming a writer! Good advice on the other posts! Keep up the good work!
Thanks for the input guys, it really means alot. I hold no expectations that i'll ever have anything published, but i am enjoying just putting the words down. Its something im actually excited about, improving my skills over time. I've never had a real hobby before and i think i may have actually found one! One thing i feel like i need to mention is my over use of commas. The problem has plagued me since school, teachers always told me that i used them too much. They moaned that i'd clearly been reading too much Dickens lol.
You never know. It's famous the case of Dr. Seuss, he got rejected by more than 30 editorials (or something like that) before getting published for the first time, and of course his books are classics now. If you want to write, then write. Write everything that comes to your mind, keep the things you think are not worth inside a box, but never forget them. When you get enough experience, those could be your next bestseller (Stephen King does this all the time, like 'Under the Dome' wich was based upon a manuscript he wrote 30 years ago). Never stop, and you'll get published, and maybe (why not?) a celebrated author.
I can only hope! But considering this is the first thing i have written since i was at school, i just need to keep writing and developing
Rid and Cass covered all of the writing structure advice I was going to give, so I will just skip that. I think you definitely have potiential here, first of all stop putting yourself down. The only real problem that I see in your writing is that you seem a little tense. Have you ever noticed when someone first starts to learn an instrument, how choppy their music tends to sound. Usually its because of stress. When you look at a beginning piano players fingers they constantlt look for and attack each key, while professional pianist seem as though they could play the piece in their sleep. Luckily, you dont seem too tense. You add a lot of descriptive variety and you seem to really take your time with your sentences. The issue is that there doesnt seem to be a lot of 'you' in your writing. Even when you are writing in 3rd person is important that there is a tone and emotion in your writing. I could describe to you all day about how this man is being stabbed, but that doesnt force anyone to care. I could shout from that hill tops that we have a mystery on our hands, but that doesnt mean that the reader will be on edge until it is solved. Dont just tell the reader the scene was gloomy, make them feel it through your words. Ask yourself what do I want in this story, what am I going for. Not describing it as things that I have seen or read before, but just be able to describe what type of world I am building, what type of characters am I forming. For instance, the novel/series I am working on deals in a fantasy world were things are extremely dark at the time. However, the main characters are young and for a long period of time arent aware of how bad things are going to get. So the personalities of those characters and my voice in the story is very light hearted and amusing. You have to find out what the feel of this world is. What is the feel of the story? How would these conditions have an effect on the characters. Descriptions in novels have to be just as persuasive and convincing as the ones on the backs on catalogues. You cant just tell your readers the story, you have to drag them in, make them believe it. Its much like poetry. You have some people who write very dark and depressing poems. You have some people, such as myself, who hide their sadness under whimsical metaphors in their poetry. I remember my first outline, it was completely dry. Relax. Let got. Have some fun. Show some 'literary skin' : D. We should be able to see 'you' in your writing.
hmm...and here lies my problem, im unsure how exactly to put myself into the story. I'll soon see once ive gotten more chapters down, the second chapter so far explores more of the universe in which the story is set and hopefully more of me will show through. This, and with most of the stories ive thought of, have started as dreams. So its trying to take the dream ive had and expand it into a story, replacing myself with characters and filling in gaps that seem intuitive in the dream world.
I know what you mean. You'll find your sweet spot. I wrote my prologue and chapter one of my novel. Let it sit for a while, came back a week later and scratched it. The second version flew out a lot easier and it gave off an entirely better feel. Back to my piano metaphor(Sorry I'm a pianist :lol. When you first are learning a song and reading the music, it will be broken and choppy because you arent sure how to do it yet. Once you know how the song plays, or the story flows, you will have a lot more freedom to add in your own yest and emotion. Secondly, you have to claim your talent. If you play a song on the piano people can tell your fear, it truly does sound different. Writing is no different. You have to be confident in yourself and even more so you have to be confident in your story.
Pianist and a writer? (struggles to hide the jealousy) I know what you mean though, confidence has always been an issue. It is the main reason i never even bothered trying before now, my writing skills for essays and such are horrible. I've always tended to avoid trying anything new from fear of failure, which led to the running joke among my friends that i have no actual talent.
