Order's Up Chapter 1

Introduction

Allen Eric Canker. That’s my name and the first solid memory I have. Someone screaming in my face and dust everywhere. Along with the smell of death and being suffocated. I’ve rambled through the last 17 years of life feeling like a lamp someone switched off since the day I heard it. There were eleven years before it that I have no solid memory of. Once in a while I get an image of blue skies and laughing. The flashes of lighting and rain rippling reality of the world outside the windows I was looking through always catch me off guard because of the contrasts between that and current reality. But I can’t find an emotional connection for it to make any sense as to why it’s in my head. Its surreal seeing pictures of myself before then. I had a family. Probably friends. I looked happy. I consider it a blessing no one can read my thoughts and that I can’t read others. An attitude or facial expression can be read as easily as the cover of a book, it’s not until you get inside that you know what you’re dealing with. I’m not sure I’m dark. Just not as easy to read as pictures.

Nothing in those pictures of me as a child look like the world I’ve always known. Terra was once a beautiful planet, but it’s as gone as that kid I can’t imagine I was. It’s like looking at a twin you never met and wondering how different their life was compared to yours because they knew a world you’ll never experience. Or finding a single puzzle piece someone dropped, opposed to losing a single piece where the image is clear enough someone can imagine it being finished.

If I start thinking about then like a random puzzle piece I found, I always come to the same conclusion any normal person would about what to do with it. You could stick it in a drawer, but the chances of ever finding where it belongs or knowing what that picture looks like are incredibly obscure. It has no use. P.T.S.D., blocked memories, traumatic events that changed everything. I think if you’ve forgotten something like that, you’re better off not remembering and shouldn’t dwell in the past regardless of all the psychobabble they tell you. Whatever my head decided I didn't need to remember must be bad enough it knows what it's doing. My brain is smarter than what I can think of and I’m not going to dig up a life I know won’t do me any good now. The world can’t go back to what it was any more than I can.

I’m currently waiting to meet the most despicable person I’ve ever known for the final orders on an assignment I don’t want. Not that I feel much on him or anything else, what I do feel seems muted somehow. Annoyance and irritation are my default settings. I’m rambling to myself again. Unavoidable habit of the void in my head, I think. I have the capabilities to make judgements based on what’s considered socially acceptable by statistics, and the morals of the person who took me in after the world started dying. But it’s not saying much. It’s not that I don’t have a personality, because I know I’m a smartass people consider edgy and can often annoy others or get an occasional laugh. I don’t feel much else and prefer being the background of a scene people usually forget. I fight what others think is the good fight. But in truth I get in more trouble trying to uphold someone else’s views than I would if I didn’t have any. I’m not sure why I do that. It’s proven to leave me at the bottom of the barrel and goes against the way things have started to unravel.

Maybe it’s some symptomatic desire to please my benefactor. General Skelar. One of the largest wolves in the area. For some reason he thought it best I stay with him. The childhood I do remember holds a lot more details I wish I could forget as easily as what I blocked out. I doubt I’d have joined the military if not for past events and how they came to order. Skelar’s not a bad guy, but thinking about all this is right up there with asking yourself how different things could have been or that puzzle piece. A useless question or idea no one should ask themselves because nine times out of ten, you’ll never know. Skelar sure my family home stayed with me, but was never a family guy. I could have him step in and correct all the B.S. I’ve gone through trying to uphold his decent morals, but I know better. Having someone step in every time you get into trouble only makes more of it. If people see someone else fighting for you in a world full of animals, you’ll become the prey. Top pf the food chain or dominant species means nothing if your seen as weak. Even if I am a wolf.

My actions are more habit than choice. I’ve always felt like a paper bag in a wind room where multiple fans determine the direction. That intensified after joining the military, so I’m going to control what little I have the sense to manage. I have no fans. More like leaders, captains, and trainers in a pecking order that’s falling apart. At present the one blowing hot air is my commanding Officer Minister Maltese. I don’t know why he insists on people calling him Minister, but if I had to guess it’s because he thinks he’s the right hand of God. Insisting on being referred to by the self-bestowed title is just fuel serving his sense of self-worth and importance. I’ve met a others like him in the military who insist on being called Sergeant or Kernel by family and friends. I think it’s about as tasteless as anyone can get; insisting civilians refer to them as if they’re more important than those they serve. It proves they need others acknowledgment, validation, and recognition; more than having pride in their own accomplishments. The more vehement their insistence- the more of a tool they are. According to Skelar, “Serving should be seen as just as much an honor as being served.” Of all the colorful language I could use to describe the hyena properly named and titled as Master Sergeant Maltese, Plug is the one that sits best. Rolls off the tongue like the stench of his personality.

I’m not so much incensed about Maltese as I am annoyed with the assignment. There’s no saving this. The system itself isn’t the problem. It’s the whole world. I can’t look out the window and not see it. Smoke's still burning from massive sinkholes that sent fireballs flying at the heavens. Evenyo, our moon; was broken and sent tidal waves over land that killed millions. Wolves are the dominant species on Terra, and losing the moon was in some ways more destabilizing than the physical loss as most wolves thought it was a deity itself. Some scientists thought it would take centuries for what’s happened to happen, but it took less than a couple of decades. Without the push and pull from the moon, water doesn’t move in tides anymore and keeps becoming more stagnant and contaminated. I suppose it’s a testament to how careless we’ve been. Everything started dying. Filtration for cleaning water is failing, crops fail with it. Land can’t sustain growth. Constantly grey skies threaten harm with random downfalls of acid rain that sears fur. The collapse of the ecosystem directly affected the fall of society and civilization as it we knew it.
Predators are starting to hunt again because it’s easier to obtain protein from weakened prey than purchasing the supplements we’d accepted lifetimes ago. I’m glad I don’t remember what it was like before, but I can’t say seeing the changes from what I do remember isn’t stark enough. As much as I b***h about certain things; I’ve accepted and am content with the world and where I'm in it.

I’m an idol person by default. I have no desire to climb ladders or be in the public eye. It sucked. For a few years after I was ‘rescued’ I had one of the largest cities following my progress. It was a nightmare because of the constant expectation to follow a certain path, disappointing people who thought you should be doing things their way, or progressing at a certain rate. Oddly enough that wasn’t what bothered me the most. Then you had the other type that saw you as a symbol of hope. Insistent on knowing every detail, getting angry when you weren’t interested in sharing, or thinking they were entitled to know everything because they knew just enough. Love and adoration, gifts you never wanted and felt obligated to appreciate, a constant surf of people dreaming for you. I could go on but damn -that was my limit.

Survival in a life-threatening situation wasn’t an accomplishment that day. It was blind luck. People think they know you because they know a small part of something that happened in your life, but they don’t. They couldn’t know me, I didn’t know me. I couldn’t even remember my name. When you’re a blank book absorbing everything because you’re trying to make sense of the world and find yourself, that kind of attention can be just as suffocating as survival itself. The military was an escape and a sense of direction Skelar encouraged. “Builds character and leads the way.”
When I found the option to be sent to a military school on the other side of the country, I almost jumped. I think he saw my uncharacteristic enthusiasm as a of sign of genuine interest. I took my middle name as my first and never spoke of the events again. The blissful silence of being unknown is still indescribable. I’d gladly hand this position to someone more worthy and still haven’t figured out why I was chosen for this detail. I’m not looking forward to having eyes on me all the time when it blows up one way or the other, and it’s bound to. It’s not initiative. It’s just the next task. Following orders. Orders I'm not exactly sure of and already take issue with. My annoyance today has peaked levels I’ve not reached in years. Maltese doesn’t seem to understand what’s happening right now isn’t something I’m interested in.

Possibly because the rat b*****d I’m waiting on is responsible for my current standing. I may as well be the residue someone’s trying to scrape off the inside of the barrel I know I’m at the bottom of. The wonderful values I tried to uphold in a devolving system and Maltese’s thoughts on me being assigned to this are probably only equal to our matched chagrin over the situation. My views are of little concern as I keep personal opinions to myself unless I’m asked directly. His; Not so much. He loves barking his thoughts like a worn-out thesaurus. Most of the time it’s similar to the background music in a Wall- to- wall store. I know it’s there but don’t pay much attention. Unlike the desk I’m currently looking over that can’t be ignored. It’s something I can say I truly hate as it represents the death of possibility. A coffin I was stuck in trying to do what was once considered the right thing, and probably the reason I got picked for the s**t assignment I’m about to be thrust into. I have no desire for things to go back to something I can’t even remember. I don’t have much desire for anything at all, or even change. But the desk was proof things would get worse.
If I was the type of guy to point fingers, I’d point at him. But my own actions are equally to blame. No good deed goes unpunished. My good deeds are the most likely culprit of being chosen. I’m expendable, my records indicate I’m difficult to work with, and I’m considered insubordinate. Those records are a direct result of Maltese’s actions, or failure to act. I didn’t like seeing fellow officers abuse their positions and get ahead with bribery or criminal gain. That’s not how the military is supposed to function. That’s not how anything should function. I’m not talking about the fairness of things because that can be marginalized. I think it’s an ethical thing.

I have a moral compass that only points one direction. I suppose in a way it’s the only foundation I’ve ever had. Again; Courtesy of General Skelar. I wonder if he had something to do with this or if my past might have come into play. Not many people around here don’t know my name, civilians don’t ask too often anymore because I grew up. When they do recognize me, I can honestly say giving them a look like I have no idea what they’re talking about usually causes a rush of embarrassment along with their feet. As if asking is anything appropriate to begin with. I’m sure it’s somewhere in my military records, but it’s never been brought up. It wouldn’t change things if I knew. Blaming anyone or a certain string of events isn’t going to make a difference. That’s what’s so annoying. It’ll be easy to show blame or fault on my part when this doesn’t work, and a public uprising if it does. I'm not the right guy to help save the world. And I don’t think any action can come anywhere close to changing what I already believe.

Because if nothing else the only other thing I do believe in is the natural order of things. It may be something I never successfully fit into because of my own personal circumstances, but I don’t think you should always try to save something that’s dying. No one should when it’s obvious that drawing it out will only cause more suffering. It’s a natural course of events for everything, even a planet. Hope is a disease I’ve become immune to. I can already see its death is both imminent and will become eminent. I’m the last person they should be asking to herald the promised saviors. I shouldn’t be hosting them, introducing them, teaching them, or better yet; They probably shouldn’t be exposed to me at all.

I can play the part, act accordingly, fit into most social settings given an ample amount of time to adjust or study appropriate reactions and expectations. But I’m not terribly patient. I know my faults. I’m not personable and my limits can be exceeded when I’m exposed to something I consider futile for numerous reasons over long periods of time. I don’t trust anyone. I have no want to be trusted, or make friends. I’m no longer an open book and have no desire to share or connect with others. And I’m painfully aware that the longer I’m exposed to something outside my comfort zone- the more likely it is all anyone around is going to see me as is a condescending smartass. They’ll miss anything deeper, if there is anything deeper. This time the spotlight is likely to illuminate why I never should have been in one to begin with.

Sometimes I wish I could feel things more deeply and understand things I don’t, but that would also mean I’d lose seeing the truth and be blinded by unfounded optimism. Dreaming is as ill-advised as hesitation. Dreaming and hesitation are more similar than people realize. Dreams take you away from the moment. There’s no place for dreaming or hesitation in the military. Not when thinking, not when speaking with other officers (particularly superiors), not when jumping into action. Dreaming and hesitation can get you killed in more ways than one. Career, personal, life. Add in that this is a world full of animals who are starting to act like...well, animals; Consider dreaming or hesitation when a simple glance is a threat, or a signal to others hunting you that the coast is clear to attack. I don't dream, I don't hesitate. I don’t know many people who do for that simple obvious reason.

It’s like this desk I’m stuck at and Maltese taking his sweet a*s time getting here, keeping me wondering in my own thoughts; Irritating and pointless. Almost an hour late. Like my time isn’t as important as his. Speaking from personal experience, I know he’s probably running his mouth somewhere and making me wait just because he can. I’ll admit I can be absent minded and forget to contact people. Probably part of the reason I don’t try to make personal connections. It’s better to be absent than to be seen as uncaring when it's just that I’m forgetful or I’m not wired for the social setting I’m asked to portray. It’s hard to be considerate of other’s feelings when you have a lack of them yourself or know you’re considered...uncomfortable to be around. Isolation fuels forgetfulness, and awareness of social protocols in general. But if I ever hoped to get into a better professional position or found myself in one, I’d never think myself so important or be so rude as making someone-

“CANKER!”

I had to bite my tongue when I jumped and whirled around to stand at attention because of that cocky smile he was wearing. Annoying b*****d. I should avoid thinking so much. It’s a dangerous pastime. Always a good way to get yourself in trouble. Add paying attention to not dreaming or hesitating. Thoughtless isn’t the same, but could be seen as such. Finding some kind of balance might be paramount there.

“Sir?” I asked as I stood and tipped my ears back. He’s a wretched example of the hyena species. Pacing back and forth and halting across the room to grin at me. That jagged toothy smile as he stepped closer and looked me up and down makes me want to gag at their deceptive appearance. There was nothing friendly about them or him.

“At least I won’t have a sore hanging around anymore.”

I’d heard that ‘joke’ about my name so many times it never had an effect.

“Keep that stoic face mutt. They haven’t broken you yet. I can still see it, right behind your eyes. No matter how calm you appear, how you keep your head down, how well you follow orders. Hasn’t done much to help you so far. You’d love to use those teeth right now, wouldn’t you? Does it piss you off when I call you mutt? Or are you too stupid to understand it?”

I sighed heavily, fighting not to roll my eyes. “I know what a mutt is, Sir. It doesn’t bother me to be called one. I’m a wolf.”

-He narrowed his eyes when I fought a faint grin. “You won’t be so calm once you see what’s about to happen. You think I’ve had you on a short leash, wait until they get done with you. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

Hmm, he knows more than he’s let on. I lifted my head and cocked it to the side, and the hyena took it for what it meant as I openly smiled. What was I thinking? I was wondering how things were at home when I knew his pack was run by his mate and the only reason he was allowed this position, was because of her. “At your command, Sir.” I wasn’t about to say anything else. I’d seen her put him in his place and it was far from pretty. He always came back limping and injured the next day, and looking for blood to replace what he’d lost. A slight flick of my eyes to his tattered healing ear and I stood straighter when he stepped closer, growling in my face.

“For a wolf, you should know your place in the pack.”

I guess the pack he’s referring to is the military itself. They’re coming back out there. Nothing I see as a good thing. There are so many breeds of canines now I can’t imagine who will fit where with so many preconceived notions of how things used to work. From what I gathered a pack was nothing more than a family. Packs were just parents who kept their pups in line. When one grew, they left to start another pack. There was no Alpha or Beta. I think military was the only place the Alpha and beta made any sense.

“Getting lost in your head again, Canker?”

On any other occasion, I would have cast my eyes aside and retook my seat. But today I had the upper paw and looked him in the eyes. “At the bottom, Sir. Picking up scraps.”

Another growl and he backed away laughing. “I forget how smart you think you are at times. I may not be able to do anything to you because of the position you’ve been placed in with this Subter. But it won’t be long.” He stepped closer and his face dropped to a dangerous snarl. “But when this is over, and it will be soon. I’ll have the pack make sure you know. You’re not the first who’s stepped out of line and been invited to dinner.”

I blinked a few times as his crooked smile crawled up his cheek, but made no comment about the disappearance of another private I knew was on the wrong side of his duties. My previous thoughts about him not knowing how things had happened because he might just be a cog in the machine were disillusioned fantasies. Another crooked smile. He pointed it out just to let me know I was the reason he was gone. He was one of a few I reported. But if he thought I’d hold myself responsible; He was wrong. I dropped my eyes. I’m not stupid. He knows where I live and isn’t a single entity I’d have to face if he came knocking. He’d bring ‘friends', or one of the new packs working outside the military.

His ears perked as the door knob turned and he took a step back as a warthog entered the room. I sighed as she motioned to the chair. “Mr. Canker, I presume.” I gave a nod as she tossed a brief case on the desk. One look around and she clicked her tongue, shaking her head in disappointment. “What kind of office is this? I know I’ve asked before, but it’s the first time I’ve been in here and it looks more like a storage closet.” Maltese cleared his throat and she looked at me sneering. “Why is he wearing a rookie uniform, or a uniform at all when he’s not an active officer here, Minister Maltese?”

The hyena straightened his neck as much as possible and dipped his head. “I believed it was the best way for him to meet our guest.”
She’s perceptive for someone not in the military and not a canine. This behavior was nothing I wasn’t used to from Maltese. I’d seen him rub shoulders and bare teeth at those higher ranked an they’d backed down trying to avoid a confrontation. But I was intrigued by her ability to recognize his way of putting me in my place and seamlessly doing it to him herself.

Dressed in a brightly colored red business suit, she was a representative speaker from another branch that worked with the military and not for or within it. Bright blue eyes and tusks that were as carefully manicured as her shiny fur and the flowing locks of hair spiked around her head made it obvious she was meant to be seen by others and caused me to bite my lip as Maltese dipped his head in a submissive manor I rarely saw him exhibit with anyone other than his mate. The warthog rushed a paw over her furry head and licked the top of her lips in thought. She cracked each finger with a thumb and pointed to a corner of the room. Minister Maltese’s face fell seeing the blinking red light before he turned back to find her tusks pointed at him. “It was added a few months ago to make sure our candidate was the right choice. In order to be completely understanding of situations Mr. Canker is facing; We needed to know what he deals with on a daily basis to gauge his reactions. You were informed he was no longer an active officer under your jurisdiction at the same time they were installed, but he was to be unaware of that and stay here for security purposes.

Were you not?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He almost spat as she looked back and found me shaking my head.

No one ever said anything to me.

The red lipstick she wore was as bright as the distaste she was displaying. “We will not be meeting our guest here. That has been arranged in a much more neutral setting. It has been made clear this is not the proper environment for such an event, considering how hostile the military can appear to outsiders. Mr. Canker, were you made aware of the stipulations? Have you been briefed?”

“No Mam.”

"That should have been done when you were informed of the detail."

Another scathing look from her and Maltese moved his eyes away from her steely glare. Curious, but I couldn’t look away from the interaction between the two. It was almost as if her disapproval bothered him. Something I don’t understand when his mate is far more intimidating.
When the door opened again, Minister Maltese backed away as a large female hyena bared her teeth. All the fur on her neck stood on end, just before she grabbed the back of his neck between her teeth and thrashed him like a rag doll, tossing him out of the room to the hallway. Amazingly frightening how precise the movements were because not a single paper was wafted out of place. Pack mentality had started back up in society and was becoming normal again, but hyenas never left the mindset and were particularly brutal in the area. Females were larger than males and had always run things. I turned my head as the screaming turned to sharp yelps. The door closed and the warthog sighed. “Mr. Canker, please take a seat.”

“That camera has been in here for a few months?”

“…….Yeees.” She answered giving me a suspicious look.

“Does it….have audio?”

Another suspicious look as she narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe it does but I’d have to check. We were more concerned with body language and behaviors. Why?”

“Ugh….I was just, curious.” I’m not sure if I should be relieved or terrified, because nothing about this can end well. The questioning look she was giving me indicated I was on her radar for suspicious behavior and I knew this made me look bad, but I wasn’t about to explain it unless she asked. Being invited to dinner by Maltese wasn’t something I wanted on record. I much prefer to keep that sentiment out sight because it could bite me in the a*s later. Literally. I’d have to make something up about its meaning. Then I’d feel guilty for having to lie or refusing to answer, which would make me look more guilty. All the implications in the how and why of not answering a single question…………..I’m. Not. Good. With. People. I had to think of something. "Why were you more interested in body language and behaviors?"

She looked at the cameras and took a seat. "There's a communications barrier between their species and all of ours. We originally thought body language or sign would be best, but have found an alternative."

"What kind of communication barrier?"

“I'll explain everything if you take a seat, Mr. Canker.”

I let off a relieved sigh and gave her a nod. I guess this show is officially on the road…I have a sinking feeling in my bones about all of this being s**t, but I'm finally getting my new orders.

 

Reviews

[JayG]

Oh, you are SO going to hate me, after working so hard, and making such a deep emotional commitment to your story and the characters in it. But you did ask, and we’ll never address the problem we don’t see as being one, so, I thought you would want to know. Just be aware that nothing I’m about to say relates to talent, or how well you write.

It begins with what I call The Great Misunderstanding: For more than a decade in school, for the most part, When writing was necessary, you were assigned reports and essays. So many, in fact, that most people leave their school years believing that they have mastered the mechanics of writing whatever needs to be written. And since writing-is-writing, when we turn to fiction...

But does it all use the skills we were given? The goal of reports and essays is to inform the reader, dispassionately and concisely. Why dispassionately? Because only the author knows the emotion they want placed into the reading. The reader has punctuation and what the wording suggests, based on their life-experience.

But...why do we read fiction? Ask 10 people and they’ll say, “For the story.” But in reality, we read for the adventure. We expect to be made to feel as if we’re living the story, as the protagonist, and, in real time. And to do that takes a very different approach—one that’s emotion-based and character-centric. And that’s a methodology not even mentioned as existing in our school days. Why? Because their goal was to ready us for employment. Commercial Fiction Writing is a profession, one they offer degree programs in. And you must assume that at least some of what’s taught is necessary. Right?

To better understand, look at your opening, not as the all-knowing author, but as a reader, who has only the context you supply.

• The world is starving.

It is? I’m part of the world, and I’m not starving. Certainly, you had intent for how the line was to be taken. But intent doesn’t make it to the page.

• Not in simple terms of shortages of food either.

So AFTER the reader takes the meaning of the word starving to mean what the dictionary lists, you begin to redefine it? Why not say what you mean, first. Then no revisions are necessary.

• Social construct has begun to dissipate.

What’s a social construct? A search yielded: The meaning, notion, or connotation placed on an object or event by a society, and adopted by that society with respect to how they view or deal with the object or event.

So, which social construct is dissipating, and in what way? Unless the reader knows that... Unfortunately, at this point, the reader doesn’t know even what planet we’re on. So without context to make it meaningful, the reader has only words in a row, meaning uncertain.
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See how different what the reader gets is from what you intended?

Because of your fact-oriented, history-book approach, the actual story doesn’t begin for 7 paragraphs, a whopping 1556 words—which translates to the first 6 standard manuscript pages. In it, you, alone on the stage, provide information you-have-not-made-the-reader-want. And, all of it is irrelevant to the opening scene. So during the first 6 minutes nothing happens in the story.

Added to that, because you DID have context as you wrote, you left out things that you see as obvious, and never notice the problem as you read, because as the author, our own writing ALWAYS works for us.

So: dump that section. You may need to know it to keep the story on track. But always remember: it’s not your story. It belongs to your protagonist. And as the narrator, your job is to support that character. As Sol Stein put it: “In sum, if you want to improve your chances of publication, keep your story visible on stage and yourself mum.”

So, begin your story with story, not history. And get yourself into the prompter's booth, because every time you, the narrator, talk to the reader you stop the scene clock, and kill any momentum the scene may have built.

And if that’s not bad enough news, once the actual story begins—and though you write very well—you take advantage of NONE of the strengths of our medium. In dialog. your characters never hesitate, don’t rephrase or reflect. They use only 2 of the 5 senses. They never think things over, they instantly react to any dialog aimed at them, lobbing their lines back and forth like a softball. They don't change expression, or emotion, or perform secondary tasks as they speak. But don't you?

And...the biggest strength of our medium is the ability to take the reader where other mediums can’t go, into the mind of the protagonist. But you don’t. Not because of a failure on your part, but because no one ever dold you you should, or even that it's necessary.

Bad news, I know, but here’s the deal: In our school days we’re being readied for employment, and so, are given skills employers find useful. In writing that means reports, papers, and letters, all nonfiction, and all with the goal of informing the reader. But our goal? As E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.”

Commercial Fiction Writing is a profession, one they offer degree programs in. And like all professions, we have to assume that at least some of what’s taught there is necessary. Right?

Though we leave our school years believing that writing is writing, in reality, we’re as ready to write fiction when we leave school as to write a screenplay with no further education, or, to perform an appendectomy.

The solution is obvious: dig into the skills the pros take for granted. There are lots of traps that we almost everyone falls into. That’s why I wrote the articles in my on Wordpress (address at the bottom) and created my video series on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/@jaygreenstein3334

The goal was to give an overview of the major differences and issues that divide fiction and nonfiction.

For a really good intro to the actual skills of fiction writing, I’d suggest starting with Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, which recently came out of copyright protection. It's the best I've found to date at imparting and clarifying the "nuts-and-bolts" issues of creating a scene that will sing to the reader. The address of an archive site where you can read or download it free is just below. Copy/paste the address into the URL window of any Internet page and hit Return to get there.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others
- - - - - - -
So. I know this wasn’t what you were hoping to hear, given the workload I’ve just given you, and the story you worked so hard on. But once you do master those skills you’ll find that the act of writing becomes a LOT more fun, as the protagonist becomes your co-writer, whispering suggestions and warnings in your ear as you live the scene you’re writing.

So give it a try. Like the proverbial chicken soup for a cold, it might not help. But it sure can’t hurt.

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/

[Brokenarrow]

On the contrary, it’s exactly what I was hoping for. Hate; To feel strong dislike for or hostility toward. Hehe, I can assure you that emotion is reserved for a singular person on the planet in my own context and it is not you. It took twenty-five years for me to feel that way, so this kind of stuff doesn’t even scratch the surface.
I’m neither offended or incensed by your review, only amused at the fact that you’ve somehow correlated or equated me and my writing to a child out of school and that I needed this put down in bullet points? I can assure you I’m nowhere near any of those things, nor do I have any intentions of seeking publication. I’ve had my fifteen minutes in this field and I did not like it. What I do like, is learning. Most of my college habits are well behind me in writing. An editor is not what I need in terms of being well versed. (Not what most people need if they do enough research) I appreciate your review but it would have been much more enlightening had you cut to the point like you pointed out I needed to in the chapter. This is a style I’m unfamiliar with. That’s where I’m lacking. I’m not the one speaking in the beginning, it’s all coming from the main character himself, do you suggest I remove the entire section? I’m not trying to take the reader into the simple mind of one character, but the world itself with him as their guide. The type of reading your describing sounds like what you prefer when I’m looking at it more like watching a movie, so I’m not sure.
Hmm, should have thought of it like that before because pointing out what planet they’re on is a good valid point, but I thought that was covered in my description. Eh, you live you learn. Maybe I’ll write another chapter as the first and dive into this guy’s background so it explains all that. But I hate that it reminds me of a movie I recently watched and try to avoid that at all costs. By the way, I didn’t work hard on this- I can crank out a chapter a day. I’m still trying to figure out the characters and it just popped into my head a few weeks ago. I spend more time editing than writing. I don’t know how to describe this guy, because he feels little to nothing, is guided by morals someone else set, has no memories of his past, and little understanding of the choices he makes. He’s essentially blind on every level but his eyes.
This is the only thing I miss about people reading what I’ve written. You can’t get better if someone isn’t pointing out your mistakes. You can’t get better if you aren’t willing to listen and adjust. Its appreciated.

[JayG]

• I’m not the one speaking in the beginning, it’s all coming from the main character himself, Who but you knows that? Shouldn’t we know who it is, and why we NEED this information?

From a reader’s perspective, someone unknown is giving a history lecture for 6 pages, for no known reason. So, after over 5 minutes, or more, of reading, there’s been no action or plot movement. Will the reader be able to follow the story without that knowledge? If so, it serves only to delay the actual opening to the story with data that the reader doesn’t either require or enjoy reading. When was the last time you read a history book as an entertainment?

Were this a submission to an agent or publisher, the rejection would have come immediately, because stories begin with story, not history. As Sol stein puts it: “A novel is like a car—it won’t go anywhere until you turn on the engine. The “engine” of both fiction and nonfiction is the point at which the reader makes the decision not to put the book down. The engine should start in the first three pages, the closer to the top of page one the better.”

If it makes you feel any better, the opening to Starlight Dancing had a large chunk of prose defining the history of the land the protagonist was standing on, beginning in the era of the dinosaurs. I cried when I flushed it, but it had to go. For why, and a bit on my changeover from the approach you’re using to that of fiction, this article might clarify:
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/2022/05/23/ripping-starlight-apart/

• I’m not trying to take the reader into the simple mind of one character, but the world itself with him as their guide

But the entire purpose of fiction is to involve the reader emotionally. And to do that the first thing needed is an empathetic bond between reader and the protagonist. Why, because we don’t seek facts. And the events of the story aren’t the focus. It’s the effect of those events on the protagonist, and their struggle to solve the problems that the events present that matters.

We don’t TELL the reader a story. We make them live it. And that requires a very different approach from that we were given in school.

• I’m looking at it more like watching a movie, so I’m not sure.

You can’t. In film we notice everything on the screen in an eyeblink’s time. We hear it, too, in parallel. But the page is a serial medium. Everything has to be spelled out, one-item-at-a-time. It’s true that a picture is worth a thousand words. So, we’re talking 4 standard manuscript pages for a still picture, in which the protagonist is ignoring most of it.

To cut down on the necessary description, we focus on what matters to the protagonist in the moment that character calls “now.” And that’s necessary, because if it takes longer to read about the character doing something than to do it in life, your story moves in slow motion.

• You can’t get better if someone isn’t pointing out your mistakes

As I like to put it: we learn nothing from those who agree with us.

For a quick introduction to two of the techniques in that book I recommended, this article is excellent. It defines scene and sequel and motivation-reaction units. Both of them have the power to pull the reader in by mimicking how we behave in life. They can make a HUGE difference in readability.

http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php

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Text can be misconstrued as we inflect our own emotions into it. The same as a book. So I’m being nothing but blunt because it seems like its overly needed. I'm not rude or mean or hateful, I'm honest. I thought I made it clear that I had taken everything you said into consideration but I’m wondering now if you’re just the argumentative type who needs to be correct by way of someone agreeing with everything you say. Rhetorical questions really don’t need answers. If you want my attention at this point, please feel free to read more of the story you don’t like and critique other chapters I haven’t already considered your advice on after I’ve had time to repair or rework the first chapter. I’m old enough to read between the lines after 50 years in the world and got the message. I’m not writing just for or from the protagonist’s view. That’s your personal style. Not mine. As for your statement on how you like to put it; we learn nothing from those we agree with- In my humble opinion if that’s the case; you have reached a stage in life where no other opinion matters but your own and have become rigid in your thinking if you see no fault in your own doings and can’t take the advice of others or accept appreciation for your input. Especially when they point out facts you have made and agree with your assessment. I’m not inexperienced in writing or having the public fawn over my work by people half my age. I’m only inexperienced in creating characters that have no prior existence and will take any advice on creation willingly. As I already have. So we can agree to disagree on anything else. I have to say you really are trying to sell yourself hard here with all your personal links. If you wish to be a mentor, find someone who wants to be published. I checked into what you’ve published and a few other sites you’re on. I’d say you and I have something in common not many others here do, but see no reason to make them public. I will happily accept criticism and adjust accordingly, but I’ll be damned if I’m talked to like I’m not listening when it seems like it’s the other way around. If you wish to talk like adults and not like I’m a college kid needing a new course, the door is open, if not; Have a nice day

[JayG]

• That’s your personal style. Not mine.

No, it’s not. As someone who owned a manuscript critiquing service before I retired, and who has taught writing at workshops, my advice is based on the things you would be taught were you to take any course on Commercial Fiction Writing. Commercial Fiction Writing is a profession, remember.

And as for my personal writing style, I signed 7 publishing contracts before I decided to go the self-release route. So obviously, I must be doing at least a few things right. You?

• Text can be misconstrued as we inflect our own emotions into it.

Our job is to be certain it isn’t. And we do that by calibrating the reader’s response to that of the protagonist. That way, the reader becomes, and reacts as-the-protagonist.

• If you want my attention at this point, please feel free to read more of the story.

Read more? Why? You’re making the basic mistake of assuming that it’s “story” that the reader is with you for. It’s not. You have, on average, three pages to make the reader NEED to find out what happens next or the audition is over. And if they leave they’ll never see that story you say I should read.

There are only 7 basic plots. What you call story is an embellishment of them. But who cares? People read because the WRITING makes them turn the pages. Damn near no story has taken place in three pages, but people hand over money they had to earn, based on the writing of those pages, NOT the plot. Good sense would seem to indicate that you need to work on the skills that will make your reader turn to page four.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seven_Basic_Plots

No one says that you have to take the advice of teachers, editors, and successful writers. And, if you feel that your approach is one that will work, you can easily demonstrate that. Submit your work for publication. If it is, it will sell.

As for me, you ASKED for reviews and suggestions, remember? And in response, someone who didn’t have to, took time they didn’t have to give you, to point out some things that are holding you back.

Had I praised the work, you’d have accepted it without question. Reacting to what’s not praise as if it’s a personal attack isn’t the best way to improve.

And now, since my goal was to help, not upset you, I’ll bow out. Feel free to delete my comments if it makes you feel better.

Jay Greenstein
The Grumpy Old Writing Coach

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Your bio goes into great detail of your life and is a wonderful story. What the younger audience doesn’t understand is that you are a story teller. You owned a manuscript company, took classes and got published. Pretty story. Doing those things and being published- does not equate to accomplished. Something you have a strong desire to point yourself out as being when I found little evidence of it. I don’t need to boast of my accomplishments to bolster my ego. Some people simply aren’t meant to be in the spotlight. I’m one of them. You also need to have the last word so it seems I was correct in my assessment. You still fail to see that I conceded on rewriting the first chapter at your advice but contradict yourself in your last review. If you are as intelligent as I believe, you intentionally ignored facts that were brought up and avoided them with your next ranting of the same issue.
I’m not offended, or upset. You are; because someone doesn’t agree with you and the majority of thinkers and I can point it out precisely. You gripe about my history at the beginning of this chapter, yet instead of using your own words to relay thought, you set a dozen quotes and links for someone to research instead of talking yourself. Everything you complain about is exactly what you’re doing, and those you’re trying to help don’t always fit into that neat little classroom box. If you can’t listen, grow – adapt, and learn as much from your students as you claim to offer- You. Can’t. Teach.
Don’t go into detail and spell it out for the reader – Leaves no room for imagination
We don’t seek facts. Without facts and a backdrop- there is no story
As I like to put it: we learn nothing from those who agree with us.
I’m not agreeing with you - and you have learned nothing while I have taken your advice.
I had more points here, but I can see there is no point. I will not delete anything I have written or what you have responded with. I stand behind it. Right or wrong- Deleting it would not make me feel better. I’ll always own my **it. Pro tip; If you compliment work your criticizing or point out anything positive, it would show you read the text and create a bridge with much more understanding. I have pointed out several times that I accepted your review and would make changes- but all you can focus on is the negative and how wrong everything is. It shows a great deal more character about you than anything else. Its my personal opinion that your staunch, rigid, and shouldn’t be speaking to younger people who are looking for help- or hope.

[JayG]

• I don’t need to boast of my accomplishments to bolster my ego.

Why would you assume I’m boasting? It’s called a bio. And perhaps you subscribe to the idea that opinion and knowledge are equal, but I don’t.

To convince a conventional publisher to accept my work means that it beat out the hundreds of other submissions sitting on that editor’s desk when it was read. Doing it 7 times, before I turned to the self-release route says that I know both the professional skills, and the business side of fiction writing. That I’ve taught it, and owned a critiquing business re-enforces that, and, says that I’m giving advice that works. As Holly Lysle puts it: “Michelangelo did not have a college degree, nor did Leonardo da Vinci. Thomas Edison didn't. Neither did Mark Twain (though he was granted honorary degrees in later life.) All of these people were professionals. None of them were experts. Get your education from professionals, and always avoid experts.”

• Some people simply aren’t meant to be in the spotlight.

That’s an excuse, not a reason. The people who read our work have been choosing professionally created fiction, exclusively, for all their lives. They don’t see the tools and decision-points as they read, but they WILL reject, immediately, anything they don’t see as written on a professional level.

No one ever said, “The writing sucks, but the author doesn’t want to spend time acquiring the tools of fiction writing, so I’ll keep reading. No one. Have you not noticed that you posted that piece two weeks ago and I’m the only one who responded? That, in and of itself, tells you that you’re missing the mark.

You left the comments window open, remember? And you ASKED for comment with, “Trying to change my writing style and looking for reviews and suggestions.”

As a result of that, someone you don’t know, who has had some success in doing what you’re trying to do, took time they didn’t have to give you, because you asked. Your response was to make excuses to try to show that there’s nothing wrong with what you wrote, and that I’m at fault for suggesting that you’re less than perfect.

But...had I praised the work you would have accepted that praise as your due, questioned my credentials not at all, and thanked me for doing it. It is extremely amateurish to not accept a critique in the same way.

You dispute not one single point, nor did you ask for clarification. So you’re reacting and lashing out. But that changes the readability of the work not at all. And that matters, because as it presently stands, it would be rejected before the end of paragraph one, for the reasons given, in the publisher’s office, or the book store, should you self release.

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My reaction was to do some research on your comments and rewrite it after reviewing my other works, but I guess you didn't notice that.

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P.S. Thanks for reminding me why I started writing. Its not an excuse, I had no desire to be famous or published. But it was all I needed to remind me to finish what I started