Awesome writer people, can I have your opinion on the intro to my story?
This is the beginning of a short story that I wrote. Tell me straight up--is it too graphic? I know it looks long, but a lot of it is just one sentence paragraphs.
Oh, yeah. I wouldn't mind if you judged the writing, too. But I'm only eighteen, so please don't be too harsh! :D
(That was a joke, btw. Be as much of a jerk as you want.)
****
The girl didn't so much mind being dead.
No, no, not at all.
It was the actual dying part that had been particularly nasty.
Well, not the whole falling thing, actually. She'd kind of liked that part. Hair slapping her in the face, wind stinging her ears, the eighteenth floor balcony slipping farther and farther away...
That sense of flying. That weird sensation of being—
Enlightened? Was that the word? Had to be.
She didn't worry or remember or think. Her mind was a blank. She just felt.
Exhilaration. Adrenaline. An electric shock of power, as if her whole body had just licked a 9-volt battery.
She was alive. Yes—alive!
If she'd had time to think about it, she would've laughed at the irony.
She hit the ground with a sound reminiscent of wet meat slapping a tiled kitchen floor. Then—
Pain.
For just a split second, there was pain, flooding every part of her body. It danced up her neck, her arms, her legs, through her fingers and toes. A wildfire. It bounced around inside her head like a pinball, smacking nerves and striking the walls of her skull with such a force that it cracked.
She took one last breath. Barely a breath. More like a tiny gasp, louder than thunder in her ears. Her lungs rejected it. Locked. Forgot how to breathe.
There was a gentle tugging, somewhere deep inside her. Like there was a chain wrapped around her heart and someone was carefully, hesitantly, pulling in the slack.
Her eyes fluttered open, glimpsed a splash of red. She tried to breathe again. Then—
Another tug on the chain, harder.
The girl blinked, and, for a brief moment, she was looking at herself. Broken. Bloody. Splatters of red bloomed around her, as if she were outlined by a Jackson Pollock painting. The girl blinked again, frantically trying to put the pieces together, but her thoughts were a jumble, melting into one another and evaporating almost as soon as they were made. One last glance at herself on the ground, and her mind wondered, feebly: Who is that?
2010-07-01T18:30:25Z
@Gesnarf: Concerning your third point, you ARE wrong, but I can see how you'd get that impression and I appreciate you bringing that up. In my head, the girl didn't jump, but I never make that clear in my writing. Also, with the whole "feeling alive" thing while plummeting to an inevitable death, I can totally see how it comes off sounding like I encourage or glamorize suicide. (Though I never considered this before.)
@Everyone else who's posted: Thanks! Even if you didn't give me any concrit, I still appreciate your opinion. :]
Gesnarf2010-06-30T20:18:05Z
Favorite Answer
First : I'm a published fantasy/horror writer and I would NOT buy your book after reading this intro. It's just not all that interesting to me, this touchy feely chick-lit death-and-dandelions stuff. BUT a lot of other people will love it because it's very well written and intriguing. You definitely have a lot of talent. Now comes the hard part : the rest of the fu@#&ing book! ;)
Secondly : No, it's not too graphic. What's "too graphic" anyway? In the first minutes of the latest Casino Royale, the traitor asks Bond : "He made you FEEL it, didn't he?" What's wrong with that? Make the reader FEEL it! Slap him (or her, in your case) around some!
Thirdly : I may be wrong, but it sounds like you're writing about suicide in a context aimed at youthful females. I would never write anything to glamorise death or suicide.
It's not self censorship. It's more like I-wanna-look-at-myself-in-the-mirror and sleep-at-night-ship. Don't lead kids astray! Vampires are a fantasy and everybody knows it. But suicide is real and dead is dead forever.
There are a few weak links, and allow me to point these out just because you asked for it. I don't think it would really matter if you left these in, anyway, but here goes...
- Pain "striking the walls of her skull with such a force that it cracked." I think the pavement did that, dear.
- "She hit the ground with a sound reminiscent of wet meat slapping a tiled kitchen floor." That's what a witness would have heard. But you're still inside her head, if I'm not mistaken.
- The reference to Pollock : I'd do it in a moment, I reference dead painters and Jazzmen and arcane stuff all the time, but I'm ready to pay the price. Are you? Don't misoverunderestimate the readership's ... Bushness.
What follows is my preferred method of critique. I have copied and pasted your intro in my answer, with comments and observations in parentheses:
The girl didn't so much mind being dead.
No, (no,--omit second 'no') not at all.
It was the actual dying part that had been (particularly--omit the adverb) nasty.
Well, not the whole falling thing, actually. She'd kind of liked that part. Hair slapping her in the face, wind stinging her ears, the eighteenth floor balcony slipping farther and farther away...
That sense of flying. That weird sensation of being—
Enlightened? Was that the word? Had to be.
She didn't worry or remember or think. Her mind was a blank. She just felt.
Exhilaration. Adrenaline. An electric shock of power, (as if her whole body had just licked a 9-volt battery.--the 9-volt battery analogy does not reflect the 'power' you are looking for. You can either use a stronger subject or omit this part of the sentence entirely)
She was alive. Yes—alive!
If she'd had time to think about it, she would've laughed at the irony.
She hit the ground with a sound (reminiscent--omit) of wet meat slapping a tiled kitchen floor. Then—
Pain.
(For just a split second, there was pain, flooding every part of her body.--a passive sentence. Perhaps 'For a split second pain flooded every part of her body' would be better) It danced up her neck, her arms, her legs, through her fingers and toes. A wildfire. It bounced around inside her head like a pinball, smacking nerves and striking the walls of her skull (with such a force that it cracked.--a bit clunky. Maybe rewrite or omit?)
She took one last breath. Barely a breath. More like a tiny gasp, louder than thunder in her ears. Her lungs rejected it. Locked. Forgot how to breathe.
There was a gentle tugging, somewhere deep inside her. Like there was a chain wrapped around her heart and someone was carefully, (hesitantly,--omit) pulling in the slack.
Her eyes fluttered open, glimpsed a splash of red. She tried to breathe again. Then—
Another tug on the chain, harder.
The girl blinked, and, for a brief moment, she was looking at herself. Broken. Bloody. Splatters of red bloomed around her, as if she were outlined by a Jackson Pollock painting (good line!). The girl blinked again, frantically trying to put the pieces together, but her thoughts were a jumble, melting into one another and evaporating almost as soon as they were made. One last glance at herself on the ground, and her mind wondered, feebly: Who is that?
This is very good. Take the suggestions that I made that you think might work and disregard the rest. Good luck with this!
This has great potential, but as a reader I feel it is repeating that there is nothing and he is running entirely too many times. I understand that he is trying to escape his feelings of impending doom. I get frustrated reading about it for so long. I would probably pass this book up in the store. Perhaps you may try to take out the repitition and find more to elaborate on, as in ..."The never ending feeling of dread, pity, and loneliness followed him throughout the wayward world he was in. There was nothing he could do but run. These feelings would always manifest into a blank, empty form chasing him down the blackened streets. Nobody to help him, he himself was the only salvation to stop the enveloping madness in his mind, hoping everything will just stop in place." ... I would think your character is consumed with something. I am late for work.... but I hope you get the idea.
I loved everything from "She didn't worry or remember or think. Her mind was a blank. She just felt." until the end, but the very beginning didn't match the rest of the tone. For some reason, the narrator talking to himself and sounding a little bit unsure about what he was talking about turned me off. It wasn't enough to stop me from reading it, but it gave me an odd feeling. I think you should make your narrator sound more sure of himself, especially if it's going to be in the second person like it is now.
Unless you were trying to be in the third person. In which case, the first few lines were WAY off....
Well, when I read the first sentence I was like, "Oh, no. Another one of those stories where it begins with someone dead/dying." But your writing style pulled me on. I love your descriptions, they kind of have a dry humor to them. I absolutely LOVED the line about the thoughts evaporating and stuff. Your last line would definitely make me read more because I'm guessing she has amnesia? (Which, if I may say, is another overused topic, but with what you presented so far, I believe you can pull it off very well.) I can't find much to say bad about it :P
If you haven't finished this work already, continue writing!