# Possibly writing a book...please help.



## Cedric (Aug 26, 2002)

I am possibly going to write a book. I was thinking since you guys would be my target audience, I would post my first chapter and see what people had to say....please leave me some feedback good or bad. 

Please be honest, I would hate to waste my time writing a book if people don't think I can write. 

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Introduction

Assuredly the wound was mortal. The strong, overhead blow had caught the villain solidly in the chest, not to make mention of the follow-up slice to the throat. Hmm, of course the scoundrel was taking his own sweet time about dying. "You there, hurry up and die, don't make me have to stick you again." The villain coughed; trying to gain his breath...he would speak it seems. 

"Craenor, if you hit me with that practice sword again, you won't have to worry about what Dad will do, cause I'll whip you myself."
The five year old swordsman, villain slayer and all around hero frowned, "You can't talk that much, you're s'posed to be dead. Not fair saying a lot when you're dead."

The "slain villain" stared back at him, but couldn't help to chuckle. With a wry smile Cedric Stormcrow consented to his kid brother, "I have been vanquished oh great swordsman....ughhhchh." Cedric slumped to the ground feigning death. After a slow count to 5 he cracked an eye to look up, "Think I can get up now?"

Craenor seemed to really ponder this for several seconds, then nodded his agreement, "Yah, you can git up." Working his wooden sword back into it's place under his simple rope belt, Craenor wandered off in search of other villains, dragons or beasts from which to save Storm Castle on that bright, chilly mid-spring day.

Walking into the shadow of the castle walls gave an immense sensation of just how big it was. Normally you can't build a castle that large, but with the mountainsides of the narrow pass for support; Storm Castle's walls stood over 200 feet high. 
Some would say those walls cast a shadow that darkens the wastelands and hangs ominously over the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale to the south as well. Of course, that's an exaggeration, but then again it has an element of truth to it.
Hmm...without some history that doesn't really make any sense though does it. Let's see where to start...

---

Ilyan Crow was not an impressive looking man from a distance. At just under 5'8" he was on the taller side, but not remarkably so. His broad build and thick shoulders had a tendency to give the impressive he was overweight or out of shape. Anyone who believed that impression would be wrong. The closer you got to Ilyan Crow the more impressive he became. 

His eyes, more then anything else, set him apart from other men. They had the thick, carved lines, in the tanned face, of a man used to squinting against the sun-brightened snow covered fields of the North Country. Undoubtedly, something else was in those eyes as well. Some would call it wisdom others experience. A rare few recognized it for what it was...death.

Knight-General-Appointed of the King's Armies, Ilyan Crow rode at the front of a column that stretched into the distance behind him. With lead elements and follow-up elements just as large nearby as well. The bulk of the Crescent Kingdoms forces marched with them and they marched north.

North to the wastelands, north to the barbarian armies invading, north to the cold winter, north to the Storm Mountains, north to the very death reflected in Ilyan Crow's eyes. Seven years men had made this march, to help hold the pass and seven years they had barely stopped the rushing tides, breaking them upon the hastily constructed battlements in Storm Pass.

However, each year fewer men would march. This year the armies were not lead by a Baron, a Count, a Duke or some other man of noble birth and training. A simple Knight appointed to the title from acts of bravery and intelligence, but never born to the nobility lead them. He made an odd leader, he didn't even warrant the title of Sir in most courts. 

But lead he did...and well at that. Each man who followed him would follow all the way. He bred trust in those near him. Trust that they would either live to win the war, or die a good death for their kingdom. Ilyan Crow would waste no man's life. For this reason, men followed the commoner General and for this reason, there is a Crescent Kingdom to write this story about. 

Needless to say, the war was won. The surprising part was that Ilyan Crow lived through the remaining six years of the war and continued to lead the Kingdom's armies until victory was assured. Many were angered to see one of the Duke's of the Kingdom arrive in the waning weeks of the war to "take over" for the commoner General.

But if that angered them, then the response from the King shocked them. I could go into more detail, but this is another story. Suffice it to say that after months of political in fighting and power plays, Ilyan Crow had the last laugh. 

The Kingdom of the Crescent Vale had absolutely no history for people joining the peerage who were not born to it. One simply did not "become" nobility. You were noble by ties of family, or you weren't. This made the King's efforts to declare Ilyan Crow a nobleman almost impossible. At least until he officially adopted the commoner General into his family, though not his direct line.
Baron Ilyan Crow made his obligatory trip to the Capital City to be accepted into his new family and to accept his new lands and titles. For his proud years of service in their defense, the Northlands were granted to Baron Crow. Upon the orders of the King a Castle without equal would be built in the pass to the north in the Storm Mountains. Baron Crow was charged with the rulership and defense of Storm Castle and from that day forward was known in the history books and by men as Baron Ilyan Stormcrow, Ilyan the General, 1st Baron of the Northern Storms. 
Storm Castle saw it's last stone set in the summer of Ilyan's 53rd year. Time would wind on beyond that point with the walls occasionally growing a bit higher or a bit thicker. Life returned to normal in the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale and children and mothers slept peacefully at night. War was a thing of the past. In the minds of most, as long as Storm Castle stood, there was no threat from the North. 

As hard and hearty as the castle itself, were the indomitable men who would rule it. The Baron's of Storm Castle were a rare and strange group of men. Each of them directly descended from Ilyan Crow and each of them a warrior. At young ages their eyes held a quality that would avert the gaze of many a strong man. They were the eyes of age and experience. They sat atop the world behind the walls of that castle, looking out with those eyes, and death looked with them.

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Like I said, please let me know what you think. 

Cedric


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## Ziona (Aug 26, 2002)

Very interesting introduction. I love that the first few lines actually end up being about a child "defeating" the villian, which ends up being his brother. I think you're off to a strong start.  In my opinion, your writing is pretty clear and interesting to read.  

The only thing I can really say in the way of constructive criticism would be about your mechanics (commas, quotation breaks, etc.) Not that it's bad, but those sorts of things take a lot of practice.  Personally, if it weren't for spellcheck, I'd probably have serious problems.  

But I think you're story is interesting and fun to read so far, so please, continue!!


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## Bob Aberton (Aug 26, 2002)

good start


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## Horacio (Aug 26, 2002)

I like it! 
Really.


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## DanMcS (Aug 26, 2002)

Cedric said:
			
		

> *I am possibly going to write a book. I was thinking since you guys would be my target audience, I would post my first chapter and see what people had to say....please leave me some feedback good or bad.
> 
> Please be honest, I would hate to waste my time writing a book if people don't think I can write. *




You can write, don't worry   For posting to a webpage, you're doing fine, but getting this into a book is more demanding.  You have an interesting style, and I feel like if I critique this too much, I'll be taking your voice out of it completely, but let me give it a try.

In your first paragraph, for instance:



> *Assuredly the wound was mortal. The strong, overhead blow had caught the villain solidly in the chest, not to make mention of the follow-up slice to the throat. Hmm, of course the scoundrel was taking his own sweet time about dying. "You there, hurry up and die, don't make me have to stick you again." The villain coughed; trying to gain his breath...he would speak it seems.*




This paragraph is too conversational; also, I think you're overdoing it with flavor words.



> The wound was mortal.  _(My?  I don't think the blow should be the actor in the next sentence.)_  My overhead blow had caught the villain in the chest, and my follow-up sliced to the throat.  The scoundrel was taking his sweet time dying, though.
> 
> "You there, hurry and and die; don't make me have to stick you again."
> 
> The villain coughed, trying to gain his breath.  He would speak:




I like what you've got here, overall, but it seems overwritten.  The only way to solve that, if you buy that it's a problem, is to keep writing.  Buy a book or two on writing, and on scifi/fantasy writing.  Edit yourself severely.  Cut words, phrases, whole paragraphs.  Do that to your first chapter, then write a couple more, go back and look at the first chapter as it relates to later ones.  You should be re-writing constantly.  Right now, you've got a good start on a story, and apparently have a plot and characters in mind.  You should write an outline- doesn't have to be formal, but it helps you get where you want to go.

You might consider checking out the Critter's Workshop http://www.critters.org, though they're on a bit of a break this week.  The way it works, is you do some critiquing of other people's fiction, 1 short story/week is the norm, and in return you can submit your short story, or even a whole novel (in chapters) for them to go over.  Not for the faint of heart, because a lot of these guys are sometimes-published, semi-pro writers, and would go over your story rather more harshly than I did that one paragraph, but you can learn a lot about the craft of writing just by seeing how other people do it.  And there's a log of saved stories and critiques there, you can see what kinds of suggestions you're likely to receive.


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## ragboy (Aug 26, 2002)

Cedric, 

It looks like it's a good start, I just have a couple of comments: 

1) The main character (I'm assuming it's Craenor) is interesting and I definitely want to know more about him. However, unless we're starting (and continuing) with him as a child, you should consider not using this as an opening scene. I'm not sure where you're going with the story, so I don't know if that comment helps. 

2) Prologues, introductions and other such are usually to be avoided. They're often used as a buffer between the writer and the story (Like when you're not sure how to start the story), and they do little to give us, the readers, a good start. Your's is an example. The fight scene between the brothers, and subsequent narrative scenes, could be used to give us the information and character development you summarize in the second section of the Prologue. Start the story with the fight scene and fill in the back story as you go. When you give us the "lump of information" it breaks the flow of a very interesting narrative. 

3) As someone else mentioned, watch your grammar, usage and spelling. Nothing kills the story more than wading through it, and it'll definitely make your manuscript look unprofessional. I'd suggest not putting an early draft up for review, but a draft as close to final as possible. 

Keep writing. Looking good so far.

On another note: Where in Austin are ya? That's where I am as well.


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## Cedric (Aug 26, 2002)

I'd like to thank everyone for their comments for one thing. As for where I am going with this and what I am doing. The story will continue with Craenor as a boy and later a young man throughout this book. 

Right now I am concentrating on getting the story I want down on paper, then I plan to get busy with editing and feel free to write and re-write several times...as much as is needed really. 

I have the second chapter "mostly" done, but it doesn't seem to flow near as well as the first to me, but I'm pretty critical of myself, gimme a bit and I'll post it.

At this point I will almost certainly combine the 1st and 2nd chapters at some point and work the background into the story later in stages. 

I live in North Austin and work for Dell at Round Rock doing Portables tech support. I live close to Mopac and Parmer. 

Cedric


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## Cedric (Aug 26, 2002)

Chapter Two (for now).

Riders Approach

Piercing the morning’s silence, a shrill whistle sounded twice from the high castle walls. Less then a minute later, the whistle sounded twice again. This was a standard signal, though heard only once a week or so. Riders approach…no threat; at least no military threat. 

Three riders rode hard towards the southern gates, hoods drawn low against the bright morning sun. Being only mid-spring snow capped the mountains down to the edges of the pass making a bright day uncomfortable for anyone not used to it. One was garbed in black and obviously sat a fine horse; only the crest upon his tabard distinguished him, that of a crescent moon in red with gold trim. The other two riders bore the obvious livery of the King’s Court. This could mean only one thing, Royal Messenger. 

“What’s s’at you think Gardam?” asked young Craenor of the grizzled soldier who stood at the wall beneath him. Sitting atop a small storeroom gave Craenor a vantage point to spy on the courtyard that suited his short stature well. 

“Harrumph, trouble Master Stormcrow,” the soldier grumbled, “Royal Messenger this early in the year is always trouble.”

The boy chuckled, “You think everything is trouble Gardam, like as not you may be right this time though. Now help me down, going to go see if I can sneak a listen into what’s going on.” 

Having helped the boy down Gardam continued the vigilance of his watch, throwing just a casual glance to the rider’s now unhorsing in the courtyard. “Hmm, trouble indeed,” he thought.

Sneaking through the throngs of soldiers and servants, past the central doors Craenor ran for a small alcove where he might listen in on the message. Already he could hear the approach of the boot clad feet on the marble walkways of the castle. Heralds and servants travelled with them, sharing the exchanges of introduction and etiquette needed to announce the messenger, Craenor could hear them speaking in hushed tones. 

From a room behind and to the left, Craenor heard a door open and close, no doubt his father entering the main hall of Storm Castle. Topping six foot with five inches to spare he was the largest man to sit in the chair he approached now with a steady, determined stride. Not one to go soft or to fat he worked out constantly with sword and horse, making his 250 plus pounds well-earned muscle. 

Settling himself into a large stone chair he waited. One look at that chair would make a person uncertain that it could ever be comfortable. Carved of solid stone it was simple and only very basically adorned. Large, it was shaped out of dark grey marble with no notable coloring or design. The Throne at Storm Castle was said to serve as a cold, strong reminder to each man who would come to sit in it that he may not ever grow comfortable in this place or casual with his duties. 

The Herald spoke loudly from the doorway, his strong voice filling the hall. “Royal Messenger of King Stefan the First entering. Be welcome to the court of Jonas Stormcrow, Jonas the Giant, 11th Baron of the Northern Storms.” Breathing as quietly as a mouse, Craenor watched this play out in front of him. 

Not waiting for the Messenger of the King to finish his long walk down the main hall, Jonas added his voice to the rhythmic click of boots on stone that echoed from the walls. “Do yeh send news of War?” asked Jonas.

“No milord,” the messenger said in even tones as his walk came to a stop, “I bear the greetings of the King, news from Court and an invitation of sorts. This years trade season begins soon and may yet prove to be the most fruitful ever…” The messenger droned on sharing news from the Kingdom of day to day events and presenting documents for the review of Lord Stormcrow. 
Quickly growing bored, young Craenor used the sound of this man’s voice as cover and the shadows of the alcove as hiding to sneak from the main hall, making use of a servant’s entrance down the way. He quickly ran to seek out Cedric or his other two brothers, Liam and Markham to share his pilfered news. 

Back in the main hall, Jonas grew more and more restless. Doubt gnawed at him as the messenger continued to share mundane details of day to day life. While this seemed benign enough, two things made him cautious. One, the King had never in the past seen fit to share unimportant court minutes and two, his intuition was telling him something was amiss. 

A few moments later the messenger closed off his speech by asking, “Do you have any questions milord?”

“You spoke of an invitation. Unfortunately, my duties keep me here, send the King my regrets and my assurance that Storm Castle stands ever ready for War should it come.”

“Beg pardon milord, the invitation is not for you.” Realizing this had come out badly the messenger quickly spoke to cover himself. “Rather milord, I should say that the King was well aware of your duties and knew that you were not able to be away from Storm Castle for so long.” 

“However”, the messenger continued, “long has tradition demanded that the youngest son of any noble house come to study in the court of the King from the time of his 6th year to his 18th. While Storm Castle has never before answered this call, it is the will of the King that you do so this year and share your youngest son Craenor with the court, that Storm Castle and the King may grow closer. With your youngest’s sixth birthday approaching, the King’s Court would see him visit to study with us.”

Each honey-covered word that poured from the messenger’s mouth caused Jonas’ eyes to harden more. An intake of breath could be heard around the hall as the servants and guards of the Baron came to realize what was being asked of them. Storm Castle had stood for over 300 years and in that time the Stormcrow’s had stood with it. Guarding it’s walls as it’s walls guarded the Kingdom. 

Dubbed the “Sons of Storm Castle” the Baron’s and their son’s and brother’s and brother’s sons had never travelled from this place until their passage into manhood. Raised in the shadow of it’s walls. They knew the harsh cold of it’s winters. The constant work of it’s upkeep. The rotation of it’s guards. The names and family of each man who would stand in her defense. With this one invitation the King’s Court would upset 300 years of tradition. 

They would rob Craenor of his only birthright. Being fourth son, the Throne of Storm Castle would never be his to sit. But proudly he looked forward to his 13th birthday, his welcome to manhood and his becoming a Son of Storm Castle.

The last words slipped off the tongue of the messenger and his studied face left no trace that he understood the weight of this message, but no doubt he did. An unsteady silence hung in the air for but a few moments as Jonas considered. 

“Of course,” he stated each word carefully through near to clenched teeth, “the will of the King be done. Craenor shall study at court as tradition demands. For we shall all,” and he emphasized that word strongly, “be respectful of tradition.”

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Again, comments are welcome and thanks for the help

Cedric


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## Cedric (Aug 26, 2002)

btw, on a side note, I know that my chapter's are running fairly short. That by design right now...I'm just trying to get the story down still. 

Cedric


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## ragboy (Aug 27, 2002)

Didn't even think about resources. Thanks DanMCS. I've found this book 

invaluable: 

How to Write Science Fiction & Fantasy by Orson Scott Card.

In addition, you'll want a good set of general writing and grammer books. Also, being in Austin, get hooked up with the Austin Writer's League.  They have a sf/f-centric group that includes Wendy Wheeler (local sf/f author) and is _very_ good, especially for the unpublished: http://www.wendy-wheeler.com/slugtrib.html

Once a year, you also have ArmadilloCon. You can enter a short story or three chapters of your book for critique by industry professionals and your peers. I went last year and it was very helpful. Two people out of that class got their stories or books picked up by the professional editor that ran the class. But, more to the point, you get real, unemotional feedback from people that do this for a living. Sadly, this years con was last week, but check them out next year: http://www.fact.org/dillo/

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional fiction/sf/fantasy author, but I've written non-fiction for seven years now and have sat through 
innumerable fiction workshops/critique sessions. Like Dan said, keep writing, and keep reading and definitely get into a workshop/critique group that you respect (even if it's just your peers). 

Anyway, not to deluge you with information.  

PS: Hey! I'm right across the hall from you in desktop support... Interesting.


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