I've been working on a story for quite a while now, and have just now moved into the actual writing part. I've written up the first page or so of it (note that this story will be novel sized in the end, pushing at least 300 pages), and what I wanted to know, is how is the writing style?
Is the style easy to read? Does it capture your attention from the beginning? Is there any obvious english errors I am making? I've rewritten this first page about four times already, and the talk from the child is still in deep revision, I can't seem to get a perfect grasp of what I want him to say... but I'm trying.
I already have the entire storyline outlined, if anyone is interested. I started an outline of the story first, then moved on to a map of the story's world (its quite big, think LOTR) so I could keep everything straight, then broke down the various living beings there (humes, elfs, darsons (made up living thing, I am going for originality here), etc), and then fleshed out the basic outline with more specific areas.
Any comments would be welcome, and I appreciate all the feedback I can get!
(And I forgot to post the story!)
The sunset was particularly beautiful today. The sunlight shone through the upper canopy, displaying a checkered pattern of light upon the worn path. This path was much larger than your standard deer path, largely because of the constant foot traffic.
As a child, I often traveled this path. Back then, the path was much smaller, and less defined. I really enjoyed just sleeping beside it, amongst the bushes, watching the occasional elf or human pass by. Something about its uniqueness from the better-known roads attracted me to it. Maybe it was destiny, or maybe a blessing, but to this day I still consider it luck.
That fateful day was not too unlike today. The sun shone through the trees, and busy birds whipped through them. I was nine years old. My chores for the day were nearly finished. I needed only some dry branches for kindle. So as I usually did, I walked up the path a little ways, and broke off to a patch of fallen trees. An enormous tree, elevated by a large stone, laid on its side in the middle of the other fallen trees. I circled the tree looking for prime specimens, of which I found a few choice branches. I also found a particularly good branch, so I placed one foot on the tree firmly, and began to pry off the branch. Finally, it snapped, but at the same time the entire tree rolled off the stone, and I fell to the ground. After shaking off the fall, I stood back up, and looked down where the tree had previously been. In the tall grass that had grown around the tree was the glint of something metal. Excited of finding something valuable, I pushed away the grass, and revealed a sword. It was in pristine condition, and reflected the beauty of the sun into my eyes. I nervously reached down, and grabbed the sword by its ornate hilt. Surprisingly, it was warm. That moment when I lifted the sword from its home on the ground will always be burned in my mind.
Unconsciously I put my hand on that same hilt, feeling its familiar warmth. After awakening from my daydream, I pulled the weapon out, and examined it. It still maintained its perfect condition; no scratches, no chips, no scuffs, and a incredibly sharp edge. I am still astounded by its angelic ability to remain untouched. There are many secrets that are hidden in the swords past.
After discovering the sword, I ran home immediately. I burst into our house, and there sat my father on the stairs, lacing his boots.
“What in… boy, what happened to you?
I replied excitedly, “Father, I found a sword! It was in the forest!”
“Bring it here.”
I ran over to him, and lifted the sword. It was heavy, heavy enough to leave deep red imprints in my hands. I dropped the sword into my father’s outstretched hands. Not a moment later, my father dropped the sword and grabbed his hands.
“What’s wrong?” I exclaimed, worried.
“That’s no regular sword you’ve got there, boy.”
“What do you mean?”
“That there is a cursed sword. Damn near burned my hand that thing did.”
It was true. I took the sword to many people, none of which could touch it without feeling a powerful burning feeling. I finally visited the local antique shop. There was a kind old man who worked there, and specialized in weapons. I walked in, and plopped the sword on the counter.
“Well, well, well. What have you stumbled upon here?” he said.
“I don’t know! It’s a special sword though.”
“Special? How so?”
“I’m the only one who seems to be able to touch it.”
“Well that is odd.”
To confirm my statement, he reached out to the sword. Like all the others, he pulled his hand back.
“Yes, odd indeed.” He said deep in thought.
“My father says it’s cursed. Is it?” I asked.
“Now I don’t know about that. Let’s examine this sword a little closer.”
He pulled out a magnifier, and looked up and down the sword. Finally he looked at the hilt. There he found some fine print I hadn’t noticed earlier.
“What is that? What’s it say?” I questioned.
“It’s Old Elfish. Lo re mona tuse hume forlanda quiro lan mire ro lo tus rila.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Old Elfish isn’t spoken much anymore. But if my memory serves, it says:”
For the hume that will save and bless the world.
“What’s a hume?” I asked.
“A hume is simply a formal elfish word for human.”
Suddenly, the old man went silent.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him, worried.
Without a word, the old man hurried into the back of the shop. He returned with a dusty old book, bound with leather string.
“Let’s see, War of Eltan, Eltan… Eltan…”
His finger ran down a list of sections in the book.
“Ah, here it is, page 702.”
He flipped through the book until he reached the page he was looking for. There, he searched the page, then started reading.
------
“An elf, no older than ten, approached Lord Elondor. ‘Sir? The High Lord of the Elves wanted you to have this.’”
Is the style easy to read? Does it capture your attention from the beginning? Is there any obvious english errors I am making? I've rewritten this first page about four times already, and the talk from the child is still in deep revision, I can't seem to get a perfect grasp of what I want him to say... but I'm trying.
I already have the entire storyline outlined, if anyone is interested. I started an outline of the story first, then moved on to a map of the story's world (its quite big, think LOTR) so I could keep everything straight, then broke down the various living beings there (humes, elfs, darsons (made up living thing, I am going for originality here), etc), and then fleshed out the basic outline with more specific areas.
Any comments would be welcome, and I appreciate all the feedback I can get!
(And I forgot to post the story!)
The sunset was particularly beautiful today. The sunlight shone through the upper canopy, displaying a checkered pattern of light upon the worn path. This path was much larger than your standard deer path, largely because of the constant foot traffic.
As a child, I often traveled this path. Back then, the path was much smaller, and less defined. I really enjoyed just sleeping beside it, amongst the bushes, watching the occasional elf or human pass by. Something about its uniqueness from the better-known roads attracted me to it. Maybe it was destiny, or maybe a blessing, but to this day I still consider it luck.
That fateful day was not too unlike today. The sun shone through the trees, and busy birds whipped through them. I was nine years old. My chores for the day were nearly finished. I needed only some dry branches for kindle. So as I usually did, I walked up the path a little ways, and broke off to a patch of fallen trees. An enormous tree, elevated by a large stone, laid on its side in the middle of the other fallen trees. I circled the tree looking for prime specimens, of which I found a few choice branches. I also found a particularly good branch, so I placed one foot on the tree firmly, and began to pry off the branch. Finally, it snapped, but at the same time the entire tree rolled off the stone, and I fell to the ground. After shaking off the fall, I stood back up, and looked down where the tree had previously been. In the tall grass that had grown around the tree was the glint of something metal. Excited of finding something valuable, I pushed away the grass, and revealed a sword. It was in pristine condition, and reflected the beauty of the sun into my eyes. I nervously reached down, and grabbed the sword by its ornate hilt. Surprisingly, it was warm. That moment when I lifted the sword from its home on the ground will always be burned in my mind.
Unconsciously I put my hand on that same hilt, feeling its familiar warmth. After awakening from my daydream, I pulled the weapon out, and examined it. It still maintained its perfect condition; no scratches, no chips, no scuffs, and a incredibly sharp edge. I am still astounded by its angelic ability to remain untouched. There are many secrets that are hidden in the swords past.
After discovering the sword, I ran home immediately. I burst into our house, and there sat my father on the stairs, lacing his boots.
“What in… boy, what happened to you?
I replied excitedly, “Father, I found a sword! It was in the forest!”
“Bring it here.”
I ran over to him, and lifted the sword. It was heavy, heavy enough to leave deep red imprints in my hands. I dropped the sword into my father’s outstretched hands. Not a moment later, my father dropped the sword and grabbed his hands.
“What’s wrong?” I exclaimed, worried.
“That’s no regular sword you’ve got there, boy.”
“What do you mean?”
“That there is a cursed sword. Damn near burned my hand that thing did.”
It was true. I took the sword to many people, none of which could touch it without feeling a powerful burning feeling. I finally visited the local antique shop. There was a kind old man who worked there, and specialized in weapons. I walked in, and plopped the sword on the counter.
“Well, well, well. What have you stumbled upon here?” he said.
“I don’t know! It’s a special sword though.”
“Special? How so?”
“I’m the only one who seems to be able to touch it.”
“Well that is odd.”
To confirm my statement, he reached out to the sword. Like all the others, he pulled his hand back.
“Yes, odd indeed.” He said deep in thought.
“My father says it’s cursed. Is it?” I asked.
“Now I don’t know about that. Let’s examine this sword a little closer.”
He pulled out a magnifier, and looked up and down the sword. Finally he looked at the hilt. There he found some fine print I hadn’t noticed earlier.
“What is that? What’s it say?” I questioned.
“It’s Old Elfish. Lo re mona tuse hume forlanda quiro lan mire ro lo tus rila.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Old Elfish isn’t spoken much anymore. But if my memory serves, it says:”
For the hume that will save and bless the world.
“What’s a hume?” I asked.
“A hume is simply a formal elfish word for human.”
Suddenly, the old man went silent.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him, worried.
Without a word, the old man hurried into the back of the shop. He returned with a dusty old book, bound with leather string.
“Let’s see, War of Eltan, Eltan… Eltan…”
His finger ran down a list of sections in the book.
“Ah, here it is, page 702.”
He flipped through the book until he reached the page he was looking for. There, he searched the page, then started reading.
------
“An elf, no older than ten, approached Lord Elondor. ‘Sir? The High Lord of the Elves wanted you to have this.’”
)