Chapter One: Cori

revised

         I ran hard, my hair getting in my face as I ran through the woods. My sweat dripping down my face, I looked up at the sky to see orange streaks.  

“F**k Cori, you screwed yourself this time.”

I thought to myself it was getting darker which meant danger.

     I slipped going down the hill, I tried not to fall. The mud was still wet from last nights rain. I had hope my leaving late meant it would have dried by now. I of course should have known the Faye that hid in these woods would have kept it wet to hopefully catch wanders, or any refugees.

I continued running the heavy bag full of food slowing me down. I heard howls behind me as I finally got to the clearing; I was in open space now and was vulnerable.  The night belonged now to the Faye that wished to take over the surface world for themselves; they wanted to no longer only be allowed to come out when the seals where lifted on Halloween.

I saw the lights from my camp slowly come on. I picked up the pace, the food making a loud clank sound. The camp was ten feet away, yet I would have to wait until the guard’s opened up; the camp was protected by magic of the camps Archmage Alistair to keep anyone out.

I heard a laugh behind me, I refused to look keeping myself focused. I started to yell.

“Open the gate!”

       No moment could be seen, I got closer to the camp only three feet away. I looked behind me and saw nothing, then I felt a sharp cold in my shoulder. I looked to my side and saw a tall woman pointing at me smiling.

 “Thought you could out run me?”

    Pushing past the pain, I made it to the gate of the camp. The surrounding magic shocked me back. I saw the tall woman come forward she had long red hair and wore a green dress. Her eyes however were as black as the onyx.

“Oh? Did someone get locked out?”

I moved back shuffling, I let out a scream.

“Someone, Open the Damn Gate!”

The woman got closer, and I put my hands up bracing for whatever was about to come. Then came the sound of bullets and a loud voice booming

“Are you f*****g Crazy?”

I was pulled back, and brought in to the camp. My heart raced beating out of my chest. I looked up to see Orion; he was a werewolf who had taken sides of humans to help them in the war.

“Cori? Are you alright?”

I nodded handing him the food my shoulder still unable to move.

“Two months’ worth.”

Orion took it and handed it to a young solider.

“Take that to the River’s house.”

The solider saluted and went off. I tried to stand yet failed my a*s hitting the dirt; Orion looked at me. He bent down and picked me up, I felt the leather vest he wore brush my face.

“Come on, let’s get you some help.”

    I smiled, his face shaped like a heart in his human form. He in charge of the soliders’ training against the Faye, I currently studied under him.

“I am fine Sir.”

Orion shook his head.

     “No, let me take you. Your sister should be there, I am sure she would want me to make sure you got there safe.”

    Barley able to focus, I let him carry me to the Infirmary. The ice was chilling my arm now; I however felt warm in Orion’s arms as he carried me.

Reviews

[JayG]

Again, this is 100% a transcription of you telling the story. And that makes sense. As I said before, it's not a matter of talent, it's that the tools you own don't work in our medium. Look at the opening without the advantage of knowing the situation, the characters, and your intent:

• I ran hard, my hair getting in my face as I ran through the woods.

As a reader, someone I know nothing about TOLD me that they “ran hard.” Why? No clue. What woods? No idea. For how long? Wearing sneakers, sandals, or magic boots? Not mentioned. So how can I create a mental picture of the action?

Why does it matter that their hair got on this person’s face? Who knows? It’s a visual detail that has no effect on the plot or action if it doesn’t cause the character to trip or run into a tree. But it doesn’t, and the character doesn’t even brush it away, so it’s meaningless detail. As a reader, I’m a LOT more interested in why the character is running than that their hair, which should have been blowing behind them like yours and mine would, in some unknown way, “Got in their face.”

So, having read the first line, what do I know that’s meaningful? Someone unknown ran in an unknown woods for unknown reasons.

• My sweat dripping down my face, I looked up at the sky to see orange streaks.

Why do I care that this unknown someone is sweating, or that they can see orange screaks that could be in a corner of the sky or all over. Why do I need to know there are such streaks if I don’t know what they mean? He knows. You know. But the one you wrote this for; the one who is supposed to live the story with this character as their avatar has not a glimmer of what’s happening as the protagonist sees it.

Having a narrator describe what’s happening in the moment the protagonist calls now without making the reader know it in the way the protagonist does is not presenting the protagonist’s viewpoint.

• I thought to myself it was getting darker which meant danger.

This is not the character having a thought. It is the narrator TELLING the reader that s/he did, a VERY different thing. Yes, I know the narrator is supposed to be the character, recalling the story at a time after the events took place, but the narrator and the one living the events live at two different times, so we’re not on the scene, we’re with the storyteller. The fact that your storyteller is using “I” instead of “he,” does NOT make it more immediate or real because POV as defined by pronouns is NOT viewpoint. If you are in a bar telling a story to the one on the stool next to you, does saying, “I saw a dog coming toward me,” instead of “Jack saw a dog coming toward him,” magically place the reader with the dog? No.

But saying: Something moving ahead made me look up and stop. A dog—a Black Lab, from the look of him, was coming toward me,” is the character on the scene noting and reacting to what’s happening to him. It’s whjat’s real to him, and what has HIS attention. It’s what HE will react to, not the events as reported by someone not there on the scene.

It’s no harder to do that way, but far more realistic. But, to use the trick you first need to know the trick exists.

My point is simple. It’s been a few days since you learned that you were telling instead of showing and needed to add to your existing writing skills. We’re not talking about a, “Do this instead of that and you’ll be okay.” I wish it was that simple. It’s an entirely different approach to writing, one that must be learned, mastered, and perfected. So in a way, you need to make a decision. If you’re writing for fun, more power to you. Write what comes to you in any way you please, and have fun. But take it as a given that should you submit such work to a publisher it will be rejected. And if you self-publish, sales will be limited to friends and family. Not great news, I know, but if you’re writing for fun, not a problem.

If, though, you have hopes of selling your work, and want to be a writer in the way publishers understand that term, you need to know what publishers expect those who write for publication to know, which is the full knowledge of a profession as complex as any other. And the time to become competent in that is measured in years, not days. They do, after all, offer four year majors in commercial fiction at the universities, and it’s not an easy major.

So the choice is yours, and either way I wish you success.