Tell Me What to Write and Then Tell Me What You Think

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Sherlock03
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14 Mar 2014, 11:44 am

I love to write and one-day hope to be an obscure yet mildly successful author. I thought it would be fun if you gave me something to write. You can then brutally comment on my work, so I can get a better idea of what people like.


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stardraigh
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14 Mar 2014, 11:54 am

Write about a character listening to a song, finding meaning from it that relates to something personal, and brings out an unexpected emotion in the character.


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Sherlock03
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14 Mar 2014, 12:02 pm

Alright, first come first serve.


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Sherlock03
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14 Mar 2014, 1:58 pm

A Night in The City

The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon of the busy cityscape. High in the cooling air and twilight fog the skyscraper's bright steel still glinted faintly and with one final wink fell into shadow. Down below in the streets and back alleys the little dots of humanity quickly scurried to and fro in a rapid manner. With the setting of the sun the air grew cold and damp, and a faint ice rain began to fall on the uncovered heads bellow. The little dots began to move faster as they made their way to cover from the cold wet hand of nature. Soon the streets were bare except for one small dot that remained exposed and unmoved by nature’s whim. From hundreds of feet up a raindrop slowly formed and then fell like a meteor streaking to earth and landing with a splash on the nose of a young woman. She walked as the rain slowly dripped from her chin and collected upon her jet-black hair. Her eyes were fixed half down to the ground, and her mascara ran down in streaks from her long somber face. As she made her way down the street, she grasped and pinched her hands, which trembled in a way that the cold air could never cause. From her wet lips little gasps and whimpers could barely be heard against the cacophony of the unmoved city, who regarded her as a strange phantom in the night mist. Oh, but she was there, as real and as desperate as any creature that has ever feared to walk the earth. No one who passed her ever considered to lend her a hand or to even share an umbrella, though there was ample room. After a few hundred yards, this sad woman slowly turned to face a dilapidated apartment. Her eyes briefly lifted and saw the crumbling mortar on the building and the fading cracked paint upon the broken door. With a look of fear her eyes returned to ground before her, which could only observe one-step at a time. Within the graffiti covered halls of the old building, a television could be heard playing loudly along with the light sobs from the woman. On the third floor, she entered her room, which was poorly lit and lightly furnished with second hand furniture patched with stains worn out fabric. With her cold wet hair and body still wearing her soaked clothes she fell upon her couch, which creaked from even the lightest strain. Slowly she inched her now violently shaking hand into her pocked and pulled out two red pills that where lightly wrapped in their foil package. She stared at the pills with huge tears welling in her eyes, which finally broke forth with a stream of shaking, gasping sorrow. As her hands shook and her overwhelming sadness grew and grew, she opened the pills and placed them into her naked hand. With a look of desperation, she peered out her window through her tear-covered eyes and prepared to swallow. Suddenly, at that very moment, the sound of a violin began to echo down from the ceiling above. In slow rhythmic harmony, the sounds of the strings began to vibrate and grow and increase from a mournful dulcet tone into an uncertain exciting speed. The woman began to listen intently and found herself drawn into the sound, which was telling a story unlike anything she had ever heard. The song was alive but how would it end: she must know. As the violin sang about the room, the woman became lost in its melody that grew and grew into a triumphant sound that sent chills down her spine and hope into her heart. At the end of the song the woman looked down at the pills that had melted into a puddle of hate , which now had no place in her hand.


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Last edited by Sherlock03 on 14 Mar 2014, 4:02 pm, edited 2 times in total.

stardraigh
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14 Mar 2014, 2:52 pm

Sherlock03 wrote:
A Night in The City

The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon of the busy cityscape. High in the cooling air and twilight fog the skyscrapers bright steel still glinted faintly and with one final wink fell into shadow. Down below in the streets and back alleys the little dots of humanity quickly scurried to and fro in a rapid manner. With the setting of the sun, the air grew cold and damp, and a faint ice rain began to fall on the uncovered heads bellow. The little dots began to move faster as they made their way to cover from the cold wet hand of nature. Soon the streets were bare except for one small dot that remained exposed and unmoved by nature’s whim. From hundreds of feet up a raindrop slowly formed and then fell like a meteor streaking to earth and landing with a splash on the nose of a young woman. She walked as the rain slowly dripped from her chin and collected upon her jet-black hair. Her eyes were fixed half down to the ground, and her mascara ran down in streaks from her long somber face. As she made her way down the street, she grasped and pinched her hands, which trembled in a way that the cold air could never cause. From her wet lips little gasps and whimpers could barely be heard against the cacophony of the unmoved city, who regarded her as a strange phantom in the night mist. Oh, but she was there, as real and as desperate as any creature that has ever feared to walk the earth. No one who passed her ever considered to lend her a hand or to even share an umbrella, though there was ample room. After a few hundred yards, this sad woman slowly turned to face a dilapidated apartment. Her eyes briefly lifted and saw the crumbling mortar on the building and the fading cracked paint upon the broken door. With a look of fear her eyes returned to ground before her, which could only observe one-step at a time. Within the graffiti covered halls of the old building, a television could be heard playing loudly along with the light sobs from the woman. On the third floor, she entered her room, which was poorly lit and lightly furnished with second hand furniture patched with stains worn out fabric. With her cold wet hair and body still wearing her soaked clothes she fell upon her couch, which creaked from even the lightest strain. Slowly she inched her now violently shaking hand into her pocked and pulled out two red pills that where lightly wrapped in their foil package. She stared at the pills with huge tears welling in her eyes, which finally broke forth with a stream of shaking, gasping sorrow. As her hands shook and her overwhelming sadness grew and grew, she opened the pills and placed them into her naked hand. With a look of desperation, she peered out her window through her tear-covered eyes and prepared to swallow. Suddenly, at that very moment, the sound of a violin began to echo down from the ceiling above. In slow rhythmic harmony, the sounds of the strings began to vibrate and grow and increase from a mournful dulcet tone into an uncertain exciting speed. The woman began to listen intently and found herself drawn into the sound, which was telling a story unlike anything she had ever heard. The song was alive but how would it end: she must know. As the violin sang about the room, the woman became lost in its melody that grew and grew into a triumphant sound that sent chills down her spine and hope into her heart. At the end of the song the woman looked down at the pills that had melted into a puddle of hate , which now had no place in her hand.


First of all. Spacing/returns make it easily readable, but not that important to actually improving your writing style.

What is your goal for readability? Shorter sentences usually are easier to read by a younger audience. Websites exist on the internet to check the grade level of writing. It's based on number of words per sentence and how many sentences. There's math involved. Picking a target audience as a goal can affect your choice of language to clarify the message your writing attempts to convey. I aim for around grade 6-8. Don't let clarity become the end all be all goal of your writing structure. There are times where you can easily ignore clarity as a goal.

I'll do the first three sentences for style then comment on the overall story, but you'll only get the first sentence now, because I've got to leave and go somewhere else.

1st sentence:
Sherlock03 wrote:
The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon of the busy cityscape.


Confusing and possibly duplicate tense. You could use began setting instead of was just beginning to.
Was is past tense and just is also past tense but potentially a different denotation. Beginning has a present feel to it.
After the word horizon the preposition of could potentially be expanded to an action/description of what the sun is doing to the city.
An example would be: bathing the ... with a fading red glow

So for now you would have:
The sun began to set on the horizon, bathing the busy cityscape with a fading red glow.

For more clarity you could even split that up into two sentences with addition changes of word choice:
The sun began to set on the horizon. A fading red glow bathed the busy cityscape.

To be continued in another hour or two.... worst case late tonight, potentially tomorrow morning.


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Sherlock03
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14 Mar 2014, 3:58 pm

Ah right, it should have been past perfect tense. I try to aim for mid range readability and sometimes fluctuate the style to reflect the scene. The writing style used by Charles Dickens is probably my favorite.


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stardraigh
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14 Mar 2014, 7:11 pm

Sherlock03 wrote:
Ah right, it should have been past perfect tense. I try to aim for mid range readability and sometimes fluctuate the style to reflect the scene. The writing style used by Charles Dickens is probably my favorite.


It doesn't have to be past perfect tense. I only gave an example of it being past tense. It was didn't read consistent throughout. What I'm referring to is just possible, and you don't actually have to write that way. It was just an example of how to clarify the thought written down.

2nd sentence:
Sherlock03 wrote:
High in the cooling air and twilight fog the skyscraper's bright steel still glinted faintly and with one final wink fell into shadow.


Need a comma before the first 'and' if the sentence were to remain unchanged. This breaks the description of what's around the skyscraper from the description of the skyscraper. Without it, it reads as if "High in teh cooling air and twilight" Fog(action of condensating moisture onto a surface) "the skyscrapers bright steel.... I forget what the name of that type of comma is, but you'll see jokes about it on line.

Example --
"I want to eat grandma," said the child.
"I want to eat, grandma," said the child.

Knowing the difference saves grandma's life. This is something that won't get caught by most spell-checkers, so you have to keep an eye out for it and hope your proofreader does.

I'd recommend the removal of the word still. Following steel, the word still is to similar sounding and may catch someone up. It's grammatically correct having the word there, but is not necessary.

High in the cooling air and twilight fog the skyscraper's bright steel still glinted faintly and with one final wink fell into shadow.
High in the cooling air and twilight fog the skyscraper's bright steel glinted faintly and with one final wink fell into shadow.

The thought of the glint on the steel being faint is conveyed without the word still.

Sherlock03 wrote:
Down below in the streets and back alleys the little dots of humanity quickly scurried to and fro in a rapid manner.


Down and below are repetative. Both indicate being lower. Drop one or the other.

I'd also drop back. Alleys for the most part are back from the streets and anyone familiar with them should know that. Anyone who isn't could look it up and realize it.

You could also drop the word "the" before little and go right on with the sentence. The last half of the sentence are full of duplicates. Quickly, scurried, and Rapid all indicate the same thing. The exception is scurried, as it implies quick movement of something that is capable of self movement. The other two are just adjectives that could describe movement.. You could shorten it to -- little dots of humanity scurried to and fro, or -- little dots of humanity rapidly(or quickly) moved to and fro.

I actually like the choice of the word scurried. It feels like the humans are tiny in a wonderfully big world.



Now for overall critique.

I like how you start out big with your setting, and then move in to the character.

I also like the description of humanity being small dots and tiny in the world.

Some of the other descriptions are unusual and possibly lacking but this is only my point of view on this, and may only be me that sees it. . For example, the rain falling from the chin onto her hair. You could do a little more description onto how her hair is placed so it goes from the chin. This threw me off because my mind did not at first think that hair was below the chin. This isn't to say it can't be longer. I then had to think how the hair could follow. A braided lock could fall front of the shoulder, and rest under the chin. The flow of the story, for me, was disrupted by that. But I say again, that this just may be me that feels this.

There are a few commas missing that go with the I want to eat Grandma example. Some duplicate description words. Unnecessary transition words such as with, which, which was. Not all of these are unnecessary, but some can be removed with almost no impact to what the writing conveys.

There is also a lot of telling and not showing. This concept has to do with the transition words I mentioned above as they can contribute to telling. For an example, the word suddenly at the start of the sentence where the violin starts up is telling that it is sudden. Changing it to a description of the sound occurring and her reaction as something that would be sudden, qualifies as showing.

I really like the your choice of a violin. A violin is very personal, for only one person plays a violin at a time. In this case the player has no regard to the sound disrupting those who live around them. It intrudes into the characters life, drawing her attention to it from the rest of the world, from what ails her.

I hope this helps you to improve on your writing.


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Sherlock03
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16 Mar 2014, 7:12 am

stardraigh wrote:

I hope this helps you to improve on your writing.

Thanks, it does help to hear feedback, and I think it will improve my writing skills.


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wozeree
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16 Mar 2014, 11:51 am

Wow, I thought that was pretty good! I did have trouble reading because of the lack of paragraph breaks. It wasn't perfect, but I liked it. I loved how you started out following her as a dot and then moved in. I work in skyscraper and always wonder what those dots down there are feeling. "Puddle of hate," was really nice.



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17 Mar 2014, 9:41 am

Write a scene, from a point of view that is not a human character, or characters that have high level thought, where an intrusive action, item, or occurrence disrupts the status quo.


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