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(red = can be deleted; blue = my additions and comments)
Chapter One - The Warning
The Oren camp lay in silence and darkness. A few stray dogs roamed between the tents, searching for bits of meat or an extra bone. One or two fires burned outside tents, created spots of light. Smoke rose from other fires inside the tents, drifting in steady streams up into the dark, cloudy sky.
Raisa walked down a path between the tents, her bare feet silent in the hard-packed dirt. She paused for a moment on the edge of the camp, her eyes sweeping through the darkness. Then she slipped away from the tents, dodging among the bushes like a shadow. She knew where the sentries were posted and avoided them. Once she was past them, she relaxed, moving swiftly and silently.
She didn’t know the land on this side of the
The wind brought a sound to her, and she stopped, listening. A slight frown creased her face, and she stood, looking around. [Be careful of descriptions that sound out of POV. She can’t see her face creasing.] She knew where the camp was, for even if her sense of direction wasn’t unerring, she could smell the smoke from the fires and see it rising against the sky. [This is a dark, cloudy night. I don’t think there would be enough light for her to see the smoke. The light would have to come from the fire itself, and if she could see the firelight, she wouldn’t need to mention the smoke.] Having assured herself of that, she crept forwards again, more quietly and stealthily this time. It didn’t take her long to find the Karki village. She crouched in a clump of bushes and stared out at it. The huge fire burning in its center lit up all the long houses.
She’d never seen a Karki village before, but she knew it, and she knew the war cry. Her hands clutched the branches in front of her as her mouth grew dry and her palms sweaty. She had heard this war cry before and knew what it meant.
Fighting. Death. Everything she hated.
It had been during a battle with the Karki that Her father had been killed during a Karki battle. [Word economy and avoiding repeated “had been”.] He had stood nearly a head taller than all the other warriors, and his knife had been sharper, his arms faster. He had been older, smarter, and stronger. But though she waited for him after the battle, he hadn’t returned. Her last memory of him was watching his back as he strode away from her, a four-year-old girl held in her mother’s arms so that she couldn’t run after him.
Now, she lay listening to the tribe who had killed him. If their tribes hadn’t been fighting, her father wouldn’t be dead. She scowled at the village. The war cry meant more fighting, but not if she could help it. [You already stated what the cry meant. Just stick with the idea that there wouldn’t be more fighting if she could help it.] If her tribe knew of the attack, they’d cross the river, back to their own territory, and the Karki would leave them alone. She knew that. Jubal had said they would only stay here if it was safe to do so, if the drought really hadn’t affected the Karki and the Karki weren’t in a war-like mood. But apparently they were.
With that thought, she pushed herself forward. The clouds shifting across the sky provided her with a cover of darkness. She placed each step carefully, staying crouched over and moving slowly as she felt her way through the darkness. Trees stood like dark sentinels against the clouds, and she paused, wondering if there would be sentries posted about the village.
Fear caught in her throat and left her crouched beside a log, her brown eyes darting over the shadows around her. Was there a sentry hidden there? She shrank back against the log. She shouldn’t be here. This was enemy territory; she should never have ventured this far away from camp. She would go back, tell Jubal about the war cry, let him worry about the attacking Karki.
Even as that thought came to her, she dismissed it. Her brother would never believe she’d gone this far from the camp. He’d laugh at her, say she was making up stories, that if the Karki really were chanting the war cry the sentries would hear it. But the sentries couldn’t hear it; she was way past the sentries.
She stayed where she was, her eyes darting from the village in front of her to the comforting darkness behind her. She’d heard all the stories of the Karki, how they hated her people. She knew that the only reason her tribe had crossed the river into Karki territory was because of the drought. Now her fears were coming to life; the Karki would attack the Oren for trespassing and more warriors would die. Perhaps even Jubal.
That thought spurred her forward. Jubal might not listen to her, might mock her and tease her, but he was her brother, and she wouldn’t lose him to the Karki as she’d lost her father. She’d come this far; she could go further. She’d gotten past the Oren sentries; she could get past the Karki sentries – if there were any. She made a careful survey of the land around her, studying each shadow. A tree branch bobbed gently in the wind, but it was just a tree branch. Maybe all the Karki were dancing around the bonfire and no sentries had been posted.
She lifted her hand to her throat, to a necklace her father had made for her. He had died fighting the very Karki she now approached, but he had faced them boldly, to protect his clan, and so could she.
She slid her foot ahead without making a sound and moved to the cover of another tree. She used her hands as well as her feet to keep from being seen or heard. She inched forward, never running. Jubal had taught her how to walk without making a sound. He had also taught her that if she ran, anyone sitting or lying on the ground would feel her footsteps and know of her approach. Step by slow step, she approached the village. The war cry pounded in her ears, growing louder with each step she took, making her heart pound to the same rhythm.
She held her breath and took the last few steps, then pressed her body against the wall of the long house. The rough walls were firm and strange, the shadows dark and protecting. She waited, her eyes darting about. She had reached the village without being discovered. Now what?
She had to learn something of the attack. She couldn’t understand a word of Karki, if that was what the warriors were shrieking. She’d have to get close enough to see their gestures, to decipher their sign language. Her hand strayed to her neck again and she peered around the corner of the long house. At the end of the long dark street between the houses, she saw the glowing fire and the Karki warriors. Fear filled her at the sight of the wild dance, making her breath come in shallow gasps, but she had to go on.
[When you say fear filled her, you’re telling when it’s not necessary. You show it quite well. Shorten to “Her breath came in shallow gulps at the sight of that wild dance, but she had to go on.”]
Falling to her knees, she crawled down the street, keeping close to the long house. She reached the edge of the shadows and dropped to her stomach, pressing herself against the ground. She watched the feet pounding around the fire, the fur-clad legs jerking, propelling the warriors through the dance. She tilted her head back. Sweat glistened on the warriors’ bodies, for most were clothed only from the waist down.
[That paragraph contains a lot of –ing sentence structures. Most can be eliminated. “She fell to her knees and crawled down the street, close to the long house. At the edge of the shadow, she dropped to her stomach and pressed flat against the ground. The warriors’ feet pounded the earth, their fur-clad legs jerking, propelling them through the dance.”]
She forced herself to study the dance, to try to find any gestures that would tell her what they were planning. Fierce faces and harsh expressions swirled in front of her, sending her shrinking back into the shadows. The stamp of their feet and the pitch of their shouts gave her a headache, but she had to stay there, to watch. She had to find out what she wanted to know.
A motion beyond the warriors attracted her attention and she watched as a man rose to his feet. The warriors stopped their crazed dance and turned to face him, waiting for him to speak. In the sudden silence, Raisa found herself holding her breath. She studied the man, sensing the respect the warriors held for him.
His face was lean and leathery, his eyes hard. His shoulders were stooped slightly. An ivory medallion hung on a cord around his neck, accompanied by many teeth, stones and carved bones. Raisa had seen medallions such as that brought back in prizes after battles. Jubal said that the chiefs wore special medallions, and the teeth and bones were symbols of bravery.
Her eyes returned to his face as he began to speak. His words were harsh and quick, his hands jerking in rapid gestures. She couldn’t understand the words, but she saw the effect they had on his warriors. He was stirring them, awakening the battle lust in them. His right arm extended, pointing to the east, to the Oren camp. She was glad she couldn’t hear whatever accusations he was bringing against her tribe. [That sentence breaks the mood and doesn’t seem necessary.] With his other hand, he drew his knife, slashing it through the air. A cheer burst from the warriors’ lips, drowning the chief’s words for a moment.
A word about “she knew” sentences. Mostly they aren’t necessary. We’re in her head, so she can simply state the things she knows as facts, skipping the phrase “she knew.” Also, something I didn’t bother breaking in to point out—when you say the stamp of their feet and the pitch of their shouts gave her a headache, it falls flat. First of all, it’s telling. You could show it by saying her head pounded in rhythm, or each shout knifed through her skull. But this is a tense scene, so I think it would add more to the tension by showing what it’s doing to her nerves.
Putting aside the technical, the story and emotion of the piece carried me away. Most of the suggestions I made were things I found on a second and third read-through. I can see a lot of talent in the writing. It just needs some polishing.
I’ll have part two posted Wednesday.
9 comments:
I liked the gist of this. I can feel where it might go, but it's not so obvious as to make me say ho-hum and dash on to something else. Basically I'm with Tina on the '-ing' words--turn them to simple past and you up the tension, which is exactly what you want to do in an emotional opening such as this.
One phrase brought me up short: that about the four year old being restrained from running after her father. I had to read it twice before I realized she was the four year old. Can you rephrase so it's clear who the child is?
Good job!
This is a very engaging piece and I find that I do not share Tina’s view on a few of these things. In addition, I do not share Deb’s view concerning the “four-year old.” In reading it, it seemed to me that it was very clear, but that may have been because Deb mentioned it and I paid more attention.
Concerning POV, because the piece is written in third person, I see no reason why an author cannot speak of things the character cannot see. It is unfashionable to use third person omniscient POV, but there is no reason why we cannot think of the POV as being a camera that is floating along with the character and can record her actions as well as her thoughts.
You state, “It had been during a battle with the Karki that her father had been killed.” Rather than rephrasing it “Her father had been killed during a Karki battle.” I would rather see it written as “The Karki had killed her father during a battle.” It might be better “The Karki killed her father during a battle.” The phrasing you used is passive and it is not clear who killed him. It could have been and Oren warrior who struck him accidentally. You want to make it clear that Raisa’s anger is directed at the Karki. Raisa doesn’t hate the Karki because her father died in a battle with them but because the Karki killed her father.
In the next paragraph, I see nothing wrong with repeating what the war cry means. This is important; it is worth repeating. I think saying “she knew that” here reminds us that the narrator, who knows how the story will turn out, may not agree with the character’s assessment of the situation. This gives us reason to doubt what the character thinks and gives us a reason to fear that not only will the Karki attack but they may even cross the river to do it.
I have no problem with you stating that her eyes are brown. Maybe the narrator thinks her brown eyes are pretty, so when he thinks of her eyes he can’t help but think about their color.
“Fear filled her at the sight of the wild dance, making her breath come in shallow gasps, but she had to go on.” I say go ahead and tell the reader that “fear filled her.” It makes the sentence sing. The reader quickly sees that she is afraid and then sees what this fear does to her.
In the next paragraph, the word “street” seems out of place for me. You might say instead, “Crawling on her knees and keeping close to the long house, she reached the edge of the shadows where she dropped to her stomach and willed her body to sink into the dry grass that covered the ground.” A street something more civilized. It isn’t possible to press one’s self against the ground without having something above to press against.
“She was glad she couldn’t hear whatever accusations he was bringing against her tribe.” I’m on the fence with this one. It does tell us what she thinks he is saying, even though she cannot understand. When leaving it out the reader may have a different idea of what is going on than what she has.
Concerning the headache paragraph, I think telling is okay here. If the reader focuses too much on the cause of the headache then he will miss the point, which is to say that she doesn’t want to be there, but she has to stay.
I'm with Tina about the POV violation. We're in deep POV here--Raisa's. And she wouldn't think about the color of her eyes--she'd be thinking about how her sharp eyesight is going to keep her safe during her incursion into the Karki camp. How many times during the average day do you think about the color of your eyes? Doing so during a deep POV passage is called author intrusion, and it's one of the things that will get you branded as a newbie-writer. It's not even necessary here because we're not focused on what she looks like--we're (rightly) focused on what she's doing.
Tina,
Still enjoying your blog. I'm back to writing. I have a question about the 'ing' words. Could you explain what to look for and avoid?
Thanks,
Jack
Jack, good to hear from you again. Glad to hear you're back to work on that WWII novel. I'll answer your question in a post.
Tim,I don't mind a difference of opinion on things that are purely my opinion. Like the headache sentence and the characters thought that she was glad she couldn't hear the accusations.
Although I'll expand my objection to that sentence. It has more to do with the camera lens being focused on the chief. I thought it should stay there instead of shifting back to give us a thought from the protag. But still, opinion, and different views will give the authors a wider scope for deciding what to change.
However, the POV issue of her thinking that a frown creased her face, and thinking about the color of her eyes is NOT my opinion. This is industry standard--for the reasons Deb mentioned. (Thanks for the backup on that one, Deb.)
My goal for this blog is to help writers get those first chapters in the best shape possible for an editor's eyes. Jumping out of a close third person POV to show us her face is something that will stand out to an editor. It says this writer hasn't studied the craft.
Occasionally published writers get away with breaking the rules. But you've got to learn the rules and understand them before you can know when it's okay to break them.
How many times a day do I think about my eye color? I don’t know, one or two, five or six, I don’t keep track, but that doesn’t matter. Even in first person narrative a person might mention his own eyes, but in Third Person POV, the narrator is an outsider, which means he can see the actions of the characters but not interact. This piece is also Limited Omniscient, so the narrator can understand Raisa’s thoughts as well as see her actions. The author has used this POV consistently in the piece. While we may have different opinions about what POV should be used for a story, the real showstopper is whether the author is consistent in using the chosen POV or not.
In paragraph one, the narrator can see the Oren camp and through he is near Raisa, it seems more like he is seeing it at a bird’s eye view than from her eyes. In paragraph two, it appears that he is watching Raisa as she makes her way through the camp. He even sees that she moves “like a shadow.” He also knows what she knows and knows when she relaxed. This has established who the narrator is as an invisible character. Being able to see the character’s eyes is consistent with what we know about he narrator, but so is being able to understand her thoughts.
Bonnie will have to tell us which POV she intended to use--omniscient, or limited. Now that I read the first paragraph again, it does start out omniscient. But it's not obviously so, such as:
"The Oren camp lay in the middle of a vast plain. Weeks before the Oren tribe had settled there, deer had roamed freely, unafraid. A doe with twin fawns had made it her special haunt. Now smoke rose from fires inside the tents..."
There's nothing in the first paragraph that Raisa couldn't know. And then it so quickly narrows in on Raisa, I never gave a thought to omniscient.
I'm not as familiar with omniscient, and what it can get away with. But I believe it's the narrator knowing all the character's thoughts and feelings. It can go distant, to give a look at everything, then narrow in on any character at a given time--such as a Jane Austen book. Maybe these days omniscient is slightly different.
But it takes more skill to pull off omniscient seamlessly, and I don't think that's what Bonnie intended. It certainly sound like a close, limited third person POV. But again, Bonnie will have to answer that.
Hi - thanks all for your comments and thoughts on this piece. I really appreciate the suggestions and encouragement.
As for POV... I start with more of an omniscient POV that narrows into limited omniscient from Raisa's perspective. This POV shifts throughout the novel, as at times I got back to omniscient to describe things or switch to a different character's limited view. Obviously I need to pay attention where these shifts are made and make sure that, when I shift, I'm consistent with the POV that I've shifted to.
You might want to re-think omniscient POV for this piece. It so strongly calls up Raisa's backstory and emotions, I think you're headed more firmly into her POV than anywhere else. And this IMO will make the story more marketable. Omniscient POV is not highly favored out there.
If you have a second main character and want to shift into his/her POV later in the story, I see no issue with that. You'll focus that POV just as well as you've done here with Raisa's opening story.
And I disagree anyway that this is omniscient. To answer that question, just ask if there's anything in this passage that Raisa couldn't have seen/known/heard or otherwise discerned with the senses you give her. If no, it's not omniscient.
My take.
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