It was winter now. Snow dusted the headstone with a thin coat of fine white powder, and the trees throughout the cemetery stood naked and exposed, deprived of their coverings by the changing of the season. Along the edge of the graveyard, oak trees reached their gnarled fingers towards the sky, bending grotesquely, swaying slightly with the icy wind that was biting at Alexandra Pike’s exposed cheeks and lips. I would start your book here – this description is unnecessary to me – most modern fiction books open immediately with the character in an environment – not a description of the scene. Alexandra stood alone above a simple grey stone marker in a lonely corner of the cemetery. The stone was inscribed simply with “Douglas Pike 1965-2009”. Confusion gripped her as she stood looking down at her husband’s grave. Alexandra’s mind had been overwhelmed with questions about her husband’s murder for months, and now, at the end, she felt she was farther from the answers she sought than before. Amidst all the feelings of doubt, relief, sadness, and anger swirling inside her head, Alexandra suddenly became aware of an odor which distracted her from her mental self-flagellation.
I can tell you are a great and naturally gifted writer, however, you are making some basic ‘mistakes’ that I also made when I first joined this site. These points changed my writing style forever – for the better! It is purely a stylistic thing – but – I hope you believe me when I say most good modern fiction books follow these rules, at least the ones I like! The first issue is so called ‘info dumping’ – this is where facts are seemingly ‘dumped’ into the narrative by the author – removing the reader from the immediacy of the moment thus reducing the experience. This was fine in lord of the rings and dickens – but people don’t want that anymore and I can see why.
“Alexandra’s mind had been overwhelmed with questions about her husband’s murder for months, and now, at the end, she felt she was farther from the answers she sought than before” To me, this is all an ‘info dump’ i.e. information related by the author –as opposed to descriptions of CURRENT action/thoughts/events where the reader can deduce their own reactions instead of being simply told them – there are better ways of imparting the information. This is also referred to as tell & show – as in you are telling the reader things, and not showing them – I always try to have just show – there is never an excuse to just drop facts in. Information about the plot etc can be relayed via dialogue, actions or even thoughts in italics. This is purely stylistic but important. So, technically, your very first sentence is an ‘info dump’ – I feel like someone is just telling me facts instead of showing/ describing them like you do here: “Alexandra stood alone above a simple grey stone marker in a lonely corner of the cemetery” – this is the gold I love as a reader! Great narrative that pushes the plot forwards!
Burning wood was one of Alexandra’s favorite smells in the world, and it reminded her of a time in her life when things were not so complicated, when she was happy, a time before she had chosen to follow the path she did. Looking around for the source of the smell she associated so strongly with happiness and warmth, she noticed a plume of white smoke billowing from the crumbling red brick chimney of the ramshackle cabin where the cemetery’s ancient caretaker lived alone. Most of this is the info dump style I don’t really enjoy as much though your ideas are cool – id rather be shown the world through her senses I only want to see/hear etc what she does exactly at that moment – facts from the past are dull!! Unless – you relay them by some other means like she reads a letter etc OR giving her thoughts in italics, something I like to do as I find it very engaging! Also, be careful not to use too many modifiers, the word ‘ancient’ here is unnecessary and only slows the pace, bogging the read down. I’ve noticed you do this a lot so I’d probably cull 1/3 of them at least – a good exercise is to highlight every modifier with a pen and you may be amazed at just how many there are!
The cabin was situated at the edge of the graveyard, about one hundred yards from where Douglas Pike was buried. The structure was old. It was so old, in fact, most people considered it to be uninhabitable. The main building was constructed of stone, but was crumbling to such an extent no one was quite sure what was holding the building together. The roof was of the poorest construction, and was surely original to the house. Alexandra could see the holes in the roof from where she was standing, a football field’s length away. Surely, the inside of the cabin was not well protected from the elements in any direction, as several of the windows were broken through. Most likely the work of local teenagers. There were rumors in town that the shack was haunted, and that the grizzled old relic of a caretaker who lived there was a monster who fed on the flesh of children who got too close. Of course, there was no truth in any of those rumors, but for whatever reason, the caretaker never seemed to work very hard at correcting perceptions about him. Maybe it suited him that folks thought he was a nut. Aside from a few broken windows, the rumors kept people away from him. He was left to go about his business. Maybe he thought it was funny that people thought him a monster. In reality, the caretaker was simply a poor widower who lacked the money, and most likely, the inclination to fix his windows every time a kid threw a rock through one of them. Alexandra thought about the fire in the fireplace, of the warmth it was projecting into the humble little house. She pictured the caretaker huddled in an antique chair close to the fire, trying to squeeze every last ounce of warmth out of each log before putting another on to burn. She watched for a moment as the smoke puffed from the chimney and rose, eventually disappearing into the darkening winter sky.
Alexandra thought back to a moment she shared with Doug by a fire just like that one. It was the night he asked her to marry him. She felt a tear roll down her cheek as she tried to remember every detail of that night.
She and Doug sat on an oak framed couch with tan cushions in front of a blazing fire in her parents' living room. She had brought Doug home to meet her parents over Christmas break in her first year at the University of —-. She had spoken of him often, and was incredibly nervous bringing him home to meet her family. Doug was several years older than she was and a teaching assistant in her Political Science 101 class, a subject that was always a point of contention between her and her mother.
“He is too old for you,” her mother would say, “why don’t you date someone your own age. He is just trying to use you for sex.” Alexandra’s mother always thought everything was about sex. No matter how hard Alexandra tried to explain the nature of her relationships, it had no effect on her mother's insistence that men only wanted sex from her.
“Mom, he is not trying to use me for sex,” argued Alexandra, “it’s not like that at all. We love each other. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Alexandra was right. Even as a child, she was extraordinarily independent, and always insisted on doing things her own way. Her father had long since given up trying to argue with her. Her intelligence and stubborn will made that an exercise in futility. Her mother, however, was just as stubborn, and was not about to give up the fight.
“You might think he loves you, but Alex, you’re only eighteen years old. Why don’t you give it some time. You might decide you don’t want to be tied down right now. College is about learning and having fun.”
“Mom, I do have fun with Doug. He’s incredible. He’s smart and fun…just wait ‘til you meet him. You’ll see. Please just promise me that you’ll keep and open mind and will be polite when he comes for Christmas, alright?” Alexandra could tell that her mother was starting to bring the wall down just a bit, so she decided to pre-empt her mom’s next comment, “I’ve already told him that there is a guest bed with his name on it. He’s fine with that. He’s very respectful of me, and he’s very nervous about meeting you and Dad. Please, mom, just be nice, OK?”
“Alright Alex, I promise I’ll keep an open mind about Doug,” her mother said, but continued before Alexandra could thank her, “I just worry about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Alexandra giggled, “Mom, I’ve been studying Karate since I was five. I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but I’m still your mother…I worry. That’s what we do. It’s in the handbook…you’ll see.”
“Whatever mom. Thank you.”
Alexandra’s parents loved Doug from the moment he stepped foot in their house. He was nothing like Mrs. Kendall had pictured. She had conjured up images of a gigantic caveman with a three day beard who was going to ride his Harley into the house and then rape and pillage the neighborhood after dinner. In reality, Doug was soft spoken, and incredibly young looking for his age. He displayed impeccable manners, and his easy going charm, and casual intelligence ingratiated him to his temporary hosts. Mr. Kendall took to Doug to such an extent that Alexandra’s mother had to drag her father into the family room so the two youngsters could spend some time alone together by the fire. Alexandra had never felt anything like this in her short life. She really had nothing to compare it to, but she was sure, even at eighteen, that this was true love. She had no doubt in her mind that she and Doug would spend the rest of their lives together.
“I’ve had a great time,” Doug said, smiling. He gazed at Alexandra, his face highlighted orange from the glowing flame only feet away, “your parents are wonderful.”
“They like you a lot,” Alexandra blushed. The redness in her cheeks was even more pronounced by the glow of the fire, “and so do I.”
“I love you Alex.”
Alexandra was shocked. She did not honestly expect Doug to say the “L” word. She felt that way, and she thought he might too, but they had not said that to one another yet. His declaration had caught her completely by surprise. For a moment she just stared at him, her mind racing. She could not speak.
“Babe, did you hear me,” Doug asked a bit nervously, “I lo…”
“I love you too!” Alexandra cut across him, “I love you so much! I’m sorry, I just…wow…I lost myself there for a second,” she stammered.
“I have a surprise for you,” Doug grinned.
“Really?” asked Alexandra, wondering what could be more surprising than Doug’s revelation a moment ago.
Doug reached into the pocket of his tan slacks, and withdrew a small, black, velvet box.
Alexandra’s heart stopped.
Doug reached out and took Alexandra’s hand in his own, and looking into her eyes, lowered himself off the couch, and onto one knee.
Alexandra’s heart was beating in her ears.
Gazing into her hazel eyes, moist with tears, Doug removed the ring from it’s box and asked, “will you marry me?”
Alexandra could no longer contain her emotions. I don’t really need you as the author to tell me facts like this – I can work this out for myself by the actions She burst into tears, and as she sobbed, “YES,” she flung herself into Doug’s arms before he even had a chance to put the platinum princess cut diamond ring wow – big mouthful – too wordy for me on her left hand. She hugged him around his neck and kissed his lips with a passion she knew would last forever.
It was snowing harder now. Alexandra raised a gloved hand towards her face to brush away a snowflake from her eyelash. Alexandra raised a gloved hand towards her face and brushed away a snowflake from her eyelash. - You notice the subtle difference that has a big effect on the pov here? Instead of you justifying the action – I just describe it – its self explanatory!! There is no need to explain every action – the less words the better! Easy to fix. :)
As she did so, she realized for the first time just how cold she was. The wind was howling now, and it was getting darker. There was a storm coming. The winter chill stabbed at her cheeks, and even her wool coat offered little protection against it’s piercing jabs.
As Alexandra pulled her coat a bit tighter around herself to shield her body from the brutally cold wind, she thought about the conversation she had with Special Agent McKinney of the FBI shortly after Doug was found shot in the head and mutilated beyond recognition, his body dumped under an overpass. When he was finally found by a vagrant, it was impossible to identify the remains, except through dental records, which were later corroborated by DNA testing. As Alexandra sat in her living room, still reeling from the tragic loss of her husband almost exactly one year after their only son was killed in a car crash with a drunk driver, Agent McKinney brought more distressing news. Doug had been working as a spy for the past ten years.
I think you have a brilliant story here!!! I really love some of your descriptions and word choice – the dialogue is believable and so are the characters (the most important thing in any book) but I do have issues with your pov which are apparent even from this tiny sample of work. This is just my view, I’m sure many people love this style of writing!!! I am somewhat of an ‘info dump’ nazi! But I don’t review work that doesn’t have great merit, the changes to style I suggest are simple to make and I honestly believe they will make this so much more marketable and engaging. Employ the senses – only write what is happening in the present – current thoughts about the past are still present tense! I want to live through your characters and see you amazing world through them, not an author! Great stuff my friend! I am only telling you things that some great writers have told e from this site, I hope I have helped :)
|
|
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
