By
http://thekoalabearwriter.blogspot.com
(red = can be deleted; blue = my additions and comments. I liked this scene so well I formatted my comments differently. Only two are in the body, the others are marked with a number and appear at the end. I wanted to keep the flow of the piece intact for the most part.)
The chief sheathed his knife again and held up his hand for silence. When it came, he pointed to the sky, then swept his hand over his head. His face was now calm, devoid of any hatred, as he spoke, and pointed straight up before letting his hand fall to his side again. The warriors waited a second, but the chief had finished his speech. They resumed their dance, their cheers and screams louder than before.
Raisa backed away from the square, creeping along the house. Once she was out of sight of the circle, she paused to think about what she had seen. The chief was calling his warriors to war. They would attack tomorrow, at
A hand closed over her mouth and strong arms pinned her arms to her side. Her heart leapt to her throat, but the hand over her mouth was unnecessary; she didn’t have enough breath to scream. Then her fear spurred her to action and she fought, kicking her feet, struggling to get her arms free. Warm breath tickled her ear as a voice whispered, “Do not struggle. I will not hurt you.”
All the fight went out of her upon hearing her own language spoken. For a moment the person holding her waited. Then he picked her up and carried her away from the long houses, into the darkness. Fear knotted in her stomach. She shuddered and tried to struggle again. Her captor put her down, but didn’t let go of her arm. His hand was firm and gentle on her wrist as she jerked away. She turned to face him, twisting her wrist in an attempt to free it.
His bare chest was a shock to her and she moved her eyes upwards, to his ivory medallion. Her eyes widened as she realized that this was a Karki prince. Then her gaze met his. His eyes were dark brown, watching her steadily, but there was no anger or hatred in them.
Neither of them said anything as they looked at each other. [1] Raisa’s heart pounded as she studied his face. She made herself breathe evenly, think deeply. Then he glanced up at the sky, for the clouds were shifting, sliding away from the moon.
She lunged at him, raking her free hand down his face. He jerked away, releasing her wrist as he raised his arm to protect himself. She turned and ran as hard as she could. By the light of the crescent moon, she could see well enough. Silence no longer mattered; her fear gave her feet wings, though she’d always been a fast runner.
Footsteps pounded beside hers. She swerved without slowing her pace, darting around a tree. He followed her easily. She dashed through more trees, dodged and turned back the way she had come. He was right behind her. Her breath came in fast gasps. Then her foot landed in a hollow in the ground, twisting under her. She pitched forward, landing hard, and lay like a fish on dry land, gasping for breath. Vaguely she knew that he was beside her, waiting.
She was scared. Slowly her breathing returned and she sat up, looking at him warily, noticing that while she was breathing hard, his breathing was as even as though he’d only been out for a relaxed walk.
“You are a fast runner,” he broke the silence. Raisa was so surprised to hear her language spoken by a Karki that she didn’t notice the note of admiration in his voice. [2] Her eyes darted to his face, waiting for a moment when his guard would be down. Though his posture was relaxed and easy, he was tense, ready to spring should she try to escape.
“So are you,” she returned breathlessly. What did he want with her? She pushed that thought away. Fight, run, her mind screamed. Her fear rose as she tried to think. She swallowed hard, wishing she was as calm as he looked. She mustn’t show him how scared she was.
“You are Oren,” he said. She said nothing, [1] dropping her hands to her side to hide their trembling. They brushed the ground. He opened his mouth to say something. Before he could speak, she flashed her hand forwards, spraying his face with sand. As she did so, she leapt to her feet and ran.
Suddenly she found herself flat on her back, her breath knocked out of her for a second time. The Karki warrior stood above her, looking down at her. She gasped for air as she stared at him. He dropped to one knee beside her and drew his knife, pressing it against her throat. She froze.
[Give us some indication of how she fell. Did he grab her? Trip her? How did she end up on her back?]
“I do not want to hurt you,” he spoke slowly, his eyes on hers. “I want to talk. When I have said what I want to say, you will be free to go.”
What did he mean? She remained where she was, unable to move. Her eyes met his for a moment. Then she rolled to the side, jumped to her feet, and backed away. He stood and faced her, sheathing his knife. The moon slid back behind a cloud, leaving them in darkness again.
“I only want to talk,” he repeated. She stood where she was, watching him. If he wanted to talk, he could talk. If not, she would fight.
“I am Karki,” he said, his words slow and measured. “You have been to our village and know we are planning an attack.”
She didn’t respond, [1] but kept her eyes on his face, straining to see his expression in the darkness. Everything in her shouted that she shouldn’t listen to him. A quieter feeling told her she could trust him.
“I do not want a war,” he went on.
Her mind went blank in surprise, and she blurted out the first thing she thought of. “The Karki are warriors.”
“Yes. They cry for war and they will have it, unless something is done to stop them. I know only one way to stop them.” He looked at her. Even in the darkness she felt the intensity of his look. She knew what he meant and looked away.
“Tell me,” he said. Her eyes flickered to his face and away again. “Do you want a war between my people and yours?”
She looked at him, then at the ground. She knew he would know the answer even before she shook her head. She glanced at him again as she answered, not trusting him enough to keep her eyes off him.
[A little too much movement of her eyes throughout this dialog. It became a distraction to me. Trim a couple of those and think of another action to show what she’s feeling.]
“No.” Somehow she felt as though she had just cast aside all the age-old traditions of her people and was now a partner [3] with this Karki. For as long as all time, there had only been hatred between the Oren and the Karki. Yet here she was, admitting to a Karki prince that she wanted peace, not war.
“Then will you help me? Will you warn your people, so that they will leave before our warriors can attack?”
“If you let me go back to them.”
She heard amusement in his words as he spoke. “I said I only wanted to talk, and then you could go. But first, you must know what to tell them. You reached our village; what did you find out?”
“That you’re to attack our camp tomorrow at
“You are smart. Yes. The warriors want prizes. Fifty warriors are to attack from the south and lead the Oren warriors away from the camp. Another fifty warriors are to attack the camp itself, while it is unprotected.”
A wave of horror swept over her at his words before another thought occurred to her. “How do I know that you aren’t lying to me?”
There was a moment of silence. “You do not. You will have to trust me. I swear by Tilon that I speak the truth.”
Raisa frowned, puzzled.
“I forget. Tilon is the god of peace and winter,” he explained.
“El Shaddai is the only God.”
“No.” The prince shook his head. “Tilon is the god of the Karki, and El Shaddai is the God of the Oren.”
“El Shaddai is the God of all people,” she argued.
“Perhaps that is what you believe, but I believe in Tilon,” the warrior said. “If you do not like that, I shall swear by the stars in the sky that all I say is true. Leave it at that,” he added, [4] seeing that she did not approve of this either. “Go back to your camp and tell your people. Tell them what you know. I speak the truth. I do not want a war.”
Raisa looked at him, wondering if he meant what he said. He stepped back. She turned and walked a few steps, then broke into a run.
[1] When you give a character an action instead of dialog, it isn’t necessary to tell your reader they didn’t say anything, or didn’t respond. It’s obvious.
Also, you have the prince speaking, and Raisa’s actions in the same paragraph. I think only the speaker’s actions should be in the same paragraph as his words. When you shift to her, start a new paragraph. That’s not an absolute rule to follow, but a good guideline.
[2] Since we’re firmly in her head, if she didn’t notice something, we shouldn’t know about it. You can say that both the language and the admiration in his tone surprised her.
[3] Partner might be too strong a word at this point. It states a level of trust I don’t feel yet. Maybe say they had a common goal, or leave this sentiment until later.
[4] Dialog tags. You’re too good to let something like this weaken your writing. When you say explained or argued, those things were already obvious from the context of the dialog. “Said” is invisible. Said should be used when it’s needed. An action beat is even better when you can slip one in inconspicuously. In other words, don’t have your characters making all sorts of odd gestures just so you can avoid said. But if an expression or movement can deepen the emotion during dialog, put it in.
For example: where I marked the 4, instead of “he added” you might try something like this. “…all I say is true.” He raised his hand, seeing that she didn’t approve of this either. “Leave it at that. Go back…”
Those things are all easy fixes. If the rest of the book holds up as well as this first chapter, I for one hope to see it in print in the near future. I was even more impressed when Bonnie told me she wrote this ten years ago, when she was 14.
9 comments:
This section seems somewhat anticlimactic to me. Up to paragraph two the chapter has steadily built tension. The people Raisa despises for killing her father are going to attack and the only person who knows it is Raisa, but she can’t warn her people because she happens to be in the heart of the enemy camp at the moment. Then suddenly, in paragraph three, we find out that someone else is on her side. We know that enemy would have no reason to put his hand over her mouth in his home village, so the tension suddenly goes limp and the reader sees that Raisa isn’t in as much danger as she thought she was. I would like to see the tension keep building. You might delay bringing these two characters together until later in the story.
The discussion about which god to worship is a little weird for me. It is obvious that he doesn’t expect her to know his god, Tilon, or he wouldn’t have told her what Tilon is the god of. Why should he care if she says El Shaddai is the only god? He knows her language, he probably knows much about her beliefs as well. Also, it seems odd for her to call God by a Hebrew name. I don’t think the early missionaries to the North American Indians introduced God as El Shaddai.
Tim, you write, "We know that enemy would have no reason to put his hand over her mouth in his home village." Huh? He'd have every reason to silence Raisa, if he doesn't want his home boys to know he's befriended an enemy.
And the name for God thing doesn't bother me either. Nobody's told us this is supposed to be a native-American based historical, so I'm working on the assumption it's a fantasy. In a fantasy, you build your world & then keep it consistent. You're jumping to the conclusion this is a historical, but a fantasy doesn't have to follow these conventions.
Of course, if the author now jumps in and says this is a native-American based historical, I'll zip it.
I liked this piece. Aside from a few tweaks, it worked for me.
Deb,
That is my point. By putting his hand over her mouth we instantly know that this guy “doesn’t want his home boys to know that he has befriended an enemy.” The tension kind of dies at that point.
There is nothing here that make it clear that this should fall into the fantasy genre. I don’t really see anything here that makes it clear that it is in a fictional land. We do, however, see a reference to a longhouse and the characters are involved in activities that imply they are Native American.
Even if this is fantasy, it is not wise to give existing concepts new meanings without explanation. An arrow is still an arrow, a sword is still a sword. If the arrow is unusual and can pass through walls then we tell the reader so that the reader isn’t surprised when an archer sends the arrow through a wall and kills the guy on the other side. To use a Hebrew word like El Shaddai and not explain where the character picked it up is to invite the reader to stop and say “Huh?” As someone once said, if you are speaking to an audience and an elephant walks into the room, introduce him. To me, this is an elephant that requires introduction, just like a magic arrow would.
It's become pretty clear that you & I have different expectation from the start of a story. I don't expect everything to be explained in the first few pages of a book. This is, to me, what makes a novel interesting. Telling all the backstory type information is one of the newbie-habits we all try to jettison as we learn our craft.
This book fits my expectations; not, apparently, yours. That's fine.
Deb,
I never said to tell all of the backstory before starting. I do think that if a reader is given too many things that don't fit his understanding of the world before they are adequately explained then he is going to put it down and find something else to do.
To jump in as the author... may I ask if you have ever before heard of the Karki or Oren tribes? They don't exist in North America, only in my head. They are actually based on a hodge-podge of North American tribes as well as ancient European peoples (like the Germanic tribes, who also lived in long houses). I am reluctant to call the story fantasy, as there are no fantastical elements (magic, elves, goblins, fairies, etc.) in it. So arrows aren't going to fly through walls.
However, it does leave me as the author with the problem of coming up with a consistent world/cultures, including religious practices. Since my use of a Hebrew name for the Oren God has caused a stumbling block for more than one reader, I am now rethinking it.
Fantasy doesn't need fastasy-creatures. Think about Jean Auel's spec-fic series on the Neanderthal & Cro-Magnon peoples. There are no classic weird creatures in them, yet they are fantasy or speculative. Any story that asks "what-if" is speculative in my book, and you're free to create any construct that will support your story.
My take (again).
It takes more to place a story within Speculative Fiction (SF), which primarily consists of Fantasy and Science Fiction than that the story addresses the question of “what if.” All stories address that question to some extent, but SF addresses the question of what if something weird happens or happened. What if there was a starship called Enterprise? What if there was a wizard called Harry Potter? Even though the tribal names appear to have been made up, it is conceivable that there could have been tribes by those names, since most people do not know the names of all of the Indian tribes. It is not quite as conceivable that an Indian tribe would speak Hebrew, since most people have never heard of any tribes that did. Mostly, it raises questions without the reader knowing a back-story that explains why they would but that does not move the story into SF. Now if the Great Spirit appeared to these people and said, “I am el shaddai” then we might be getting into SF because it deals with the supernatural. Speculative Fiction usually requires the reader to accept, for the space of the story, something that is impossible, is supernatural or requires technology that does not yet exist.
Fortunately, most people accept that the SF/F genre can encompass literature of a bit wider scoe than you describe. "SF/F asks 'what if'". I didn't originate that concept myself, but borrowed it from someone smarter than I am. We've agreed to disagree before, so let's do again.
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