The Poet

The Poet

Part One

Ganan's joints bludgeoned him with a dull, aching sensation as he slipped out of the tub of hot, steamy water and into a clean, white toga.

He shook his head like a wet dog and walked barefoot through his chambers. They were tall and spacious rooms but at the same time dark, cold, lonely places. A sense of boredom and frustration filled them like some rare gas.

No one ever spoke louder than a whisper in them; not even the inanimate creaks and groans of the building dared a true counterstroke against the quiet emptiness.

Ganan came to his bedroom. The dying coals of braziers flickered in the dark, starry orange flecks to the blood red sun of a great curtain at the far end of the room. With a tired sigh he pushed through the curtain and stared out over the balcony beyond.

It was dusk; the sky was blushing with rich reds and azures, and the echoes of clouds spun through the calm. There stood a sprawl of columns, domes and arches silhouetted against the blazing horizon. And in the centre of that city of stone was a huge, terraced pyramid with a staircase climbing up one side.

The pyramid was like the teat of a goddess erupting from the earth. Each level was roofed with verandas held up by carved, jade pillars, and at the peak was a magnificent palace of gold. The sight stirred awe and terror in Ganan’s stomach.

He could almost see the stoic, steel masked figures; the thin black satin of their garbs tickling the ground as they patrolled around the palace. His heart beat faster at the thought. His muscles tightened.

Then from the streets below came the sounds of breaking voices and boisterous laughter, cutting through Ganan’s thoughts. He saw adolescent boys play fighting with sticks in the dirt below. He leaned over the balcony and propped his head up on his hand as he watched them.

“The crooked one’s watching us!” one of the boys hissed.

A red haired boy looked directly at Ganan. The others looked, then quickly pretended they hadn’t.

“Don’t look, you aren’t supposed to look at him. He can kill you with words. My older brother says he’s keeping his power to himself, that’s why the drought hasn’t broken yet,” one said.

“Crusty old wizard,” another one muttered. The others laughed.

Ganan heaved a sigh and started with impotent rage to the curtain. As he was about to part the fabric, he heard the rowdiness begin again.

Then some concoction of frustration, loneliness and building fury forced him to turn. He felt his hands plant firmly on the rails of the balcony.

“Poet!” he called. “Poet, not wizard.”

The boys were immobile for an instant. They had bloodless faces, wooden arms, feet rooted to the ground and expressions like they were slowly burning to death.

In time to a bitter smile curling onto Ganan’s lips, the boys had scattered like shrivelled leaves to the four winds. The dusty street was then as dark and empty as the poet’s chambers. Empty, that was, except for the red haired boy that stood staring with silent intensity at the poet on the balcony.

Hi Katharsis!

Let’s have a look-see here.

Ganan's joints bludgeoned him with a dull, aching sensation as he slipped out of the tub of hot, steamy water and into a clean, white toga.

Adjective overkill. You don’t need to use two adjectives for every noun. In fact, you should only rarely use more than one adjective, and most nouns can go without an adjective altogether.

Consider cutting out several of these adjectives. I would personally recommend: steamy (because it doesn’t tell us anything ‘hot’ doesn’t), clean (because we’re going to assume it’s clean unless told otherwise) and white (because does it really matter what colour the toga is? most people are going to assume it’s white anyway, because the standard colour of togas).

But of course, it’s up to you make the decision for yourself.

They were tall and spacious rooms but at the same time dark, cold, lonely places.

Lots of adjectives again, but that’s not the issue here - rather, it’s the word ‘lonely’ that stood out to me. It doesn’t convey anything to the reader, or tell them anything. How can a room be lonely? What does a lonely room look like?

Focus on making your descriptions something the reader can understand, visualise, and/or feel. If you want to convey the sense that the rooms are lonely, describe why they are lonely (eg. No one else ever comes in them).

It’s basically the difference between showing and telling

A sense of boredom and frustration filled them like some rare gas.

Again, this is a very intangible description. You say there is a sense of boredom and frustration in the room, but why is that? Give the reader something tangible, so that they can understand it.

For example: you could show Ganan brooding over some strange mechanism that he cannot understand for hours on end. (By the way, if that doesn’t make any sense in the context of the story, it’s because I’m commenting as I’m reading, so I don’t know the sort of things Ganan does yet. FAKE EDIT: Although, I suppose the title ‘The Poet’ should’ve given me a clue…)

No one ever spoke louder than a whisper in them; not even the inanimate creaks and groans of the building dared a true counterstroke against the quiet emptiness.

Yes! This is what we want. This sentence conveys a real sense of ominous gloom, without you saying ‘the rooms had a sense of ominous gloom about them.’ It’s a much more vivid description, and one that resonates far better with the reader.

Do more of this in your descriptions. (And reading through the rest of the chapter, I see that you do.)


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A more general comment:

Once this gets going, it’s a fantastic read. Unfortunately, I don’t think it really gets started until about half way through. The first half is almost entirely just descriptions, and the opening lacks any real hook.

You might want to consider rearranging the chapter a little bit? From the point when we see the boys playing outside, the story suddenly becomes rather gripping, but the first seven paragraphs feel like you’re doing nothing but setting the scene.

And you should know: readers are very impatient little beasties. They don’t like to wait for the writer to set the scene up - they want you to get the story and the action going, and then you can start establishing the scene around that.

I would personally recommend rearranging the chapter a bit, so that the action (the dialogue) gets started sooner. Of course, how you go about this I’ll have to leave entirely up to you. You might want to try playing around with a couple of different possibilities, to try and find the right balance between scene setting and action.


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But apart from those points this is actually an interesting and well written story. I’m really intrigued by what you’ve got going here, and hope that you carry on with it.

Hope you found this review at least somewhat helpful.


-- Sureal

Hi, I'm Ellie, and I will be your reviewer for today

Katharsis wrote:
Ganan's joints bludgeoned him with a dull, aching sensation as he slipped out of the tub of hot, steamy water and into a clean, white toga.

Alright, so far, this first sentence is a little shaky. It dosen't hook me and is a little flowery / purple prose-ish so much that we loose focus about what the actual story is supposed to be about.

Katharsis wrote:He shook his head like a wet dog and walked barefoot through his chambers. They were tall and spacious rooms but at the same time dark, cold, lonely places. A sense of boredom and frustration filled them like some rare gas.

Okay, same for this paragraph. Very flowery and lots of purple prose. Where is this dude? Where is he going? Because, right now, I am getting the image of a 6th century, Chinese Buddhist monk. Take a little off the heavy descrption and describe who this man is. What he is doing there? Who is he?

Katharsis wrote:No one ever spoke louder than a whisper in them; not even the inanimate creaks and groans of the building dared a true counterstroke against the quiet emptiness.

Yea, off on the heavy description.

Katharsis wrote:Ganan came to his bedroom. The dying coals of braziers flickered in the dark, starry orange flecks to the blood red sun of a great curtain at the far end of the room. With a tired sigh he pushed through the curtain and stared out over the balcony beyond.

It was dusk; the sky was blushing with rich reds and azures, and the echoes of clouds spun through the calm. There stood a sprawl of columns, domes and arches silhouetted against the blazing horizon. And in the centre of that city of stone was a huge, terraced pyramid with a staircase climbing up one side.

.

I like the vivid imagery you are trying to create, but it is a little too much. You have 6 paragraphs so far, and I don't even know where the story is going.

Katharsis wrote:The pyramid was like the teat of a goddess erupting from the earth. Each level was roofed with verandas held up by carved, jade pillars, and at the peak was a magnificent palace of gold. The sight stirred awe and terror in Ganan’s stomach.

He could almost see the stoic, steel masked figures; the thin black satin of their garbs tickling the ground as they patrolled around the palace. His heart beat faster at the thought. His muscles tightened.

Okay, so this in Ancient Egypt? Who is this guy? Is he a prince? Common boy? An old magician? What is his purpose?

Katharsis wrote:Then from the streets below came the sounds of breaking voices and boisterous laughter, cutting through Ganan’s thoughts. He saw adolescent boys play fighting with sticks in the dirt below. He leaned over the balcony and propped his head up on his hand as he watched them.

“The crooked one’s watching us!” one of the boys hissed.

The crooked one? Does your main character have some sort of deformity, or is he some sort of exiled wizard who's magic has failed? Is he pure evil? Why do they call him the crooked one?

Katharsis wrote:A red haired boy looked directly at Ganan. The others looked, then quickly pretended they hadn’t.

The others? How many boys are there? Why are they looking away from Ganan?

Katharsis wrote:“Don’t look, you aren’t supposed to look at him. He can kill you with words. My older brother says he’s keeping his power to himself, that’s why the drought hasn’t broken yet,” one said.

Why can your main character kill with words? Is Ganan an authority figure? Why does he have all this great power?

Katharsis wrote:“Crusty old wizard,” another one muttered. The others laughed.

Ganan heaved a sigh and started with impotent rage to the curtain. As he was about to part the fabric, he heard the rowdiness begin again.

Then some concoction of frustration, loneliness and building fury forced him to turn. He felt his hands plant firmly on the rails of the balcony.

“Poet!” he called. “Poet, not wizard.”

Uh...okay. I'm starting to get really confused. Are these people superstitious and think poets are evil and full of magic. True, they could have the talent to create 'magic' words, but why would that keep a drought goiing?

Katharsis wrote:The boys were immobile for an instant. They had bloodless faces, wooden arms, feet rooted to the ground and expressions like they were slowly burning to death.

In time to a bitter smile curling onto Ganan’s lips, the boys had scattered like shrivelled leaves to the four winds. The dusty street was then as dark and empty as the poet’s chambers. Empty, that was, except for the red haired boy that stood staring with silent intensity at the poet on the balcony.

Again, a lot of uneeded description.

Positives

You created alot of vivid imagery and i really could picture the setting.

Negatives

There is too much purple prose, and too much showing and hardly any telling. I have no idea where your plot is going, or any details about the main character or the village he is living in. Why does the poet have is own chambers? Does he live in the palace, or is he simply a rich man? If so, why do the villagers treat him like such an outcast? You need to spend lest time describing setting - because that calls for really slow pacing. You will lose your audience if you do that.

Hey Kath. I was wandering around YWS and thought I'd check this out. ^^

Ganan's joints bludgeoned him with a dull, aching sensation as he slipped out of the tub of hot, steamy water and into a clean, white toga.

Bludgeoned is a strange word to use. Also, you seem to be fond of double adjectives. (Dull, aching; hot, steamy; clean, white) I think we can prune a few adjectives. ^^

It was dusk; the sky was blushing with rich reds and azures, and the echoes of clouds spun through the calm.

All right, too many thoughts crammed into one sentence here. They threw me off. Try

"It was dusk. The sky blushed with rich reds and azures and the echoes of clouds spun through the calm."

Oh, notice that I took was out. It made the sentence passive, and passivity kills prose. Try to avoid it as much as possible, but don't avoid it too much - some sentences are better in passive form.

There stood a sprawl of columns, domes and arches silhouetted against the blazing horizon

The silhouettes of columns, domes and arches sprawled against the blazing horizon.

Again, passivity kills prose.

Ganan heaved a sigh and started with impotent rage to the curtain

I don't get the second part of the sentence.


Well, that sums it up.

OVERALL: Okay, so the story seems interesting so far - I would definitely read on. I like the way you write; it's nice. I wish I could write as nice as you do. >.>"

Anyway, the story seems really interesting. Surprisingly, I didn't skip any descriptions in this story (I always skip descriptions, even in books). That says a lot about your way of writing. ^^

I think I'll give you a gold star for this. You deserve it.

I agree with what has been said before. The beginning of the story doesn’t hook the reader. The first sentence is too long and too descriptive. The paragraphs that follow are, although well written, too flowery as well. The descriptions diminish the flow of the sentences.

Katharsis wrote:A sense of boredom and frustration filled them like some rare gas.

I don’t know what you mean by this, exactly. Why boredom and frustration? And ‘like some rare gas’ seems a strange comparison to me.

Katharsis wrote:No one ever spoke louder than a whisper in them; not even the inanimate creaks and groans of the building dared a true counterstroke against the quiet emptiness.

I like this sentence! Intriguing, vivid description!

Katharsis wrote:Ganan came to his bedroom. The dying coals of braziers flickered in the dark, starry orange flecks to the blood red sun of a great curtain at the far end of the room. With a tired sigh he pushed through the curtain and stared out over the balcony beyond.

It was dusk; the sky was blushing with rich reds and azures, and the echoes of clouds spun through the calm. There stood a sprawl of columns, domes and arches silhouetted against the blazing horizon. And in the centre of that city of stone was a huge, terraced pyramid with a staircase climbing up one side.

The description is just way too heavy. You jump from one long, complex sentence to another, but nothing really happens in the story. You set the scene wonderfully, with beautiful descriptions, but it’s too much all at once. Try to get the reader’s attention first and then set the scene.

Katharsis wrote:In time to a bitter smile curling onto Ganan’s lips, the boys had scattered like shrivelled leaves to the four winds. The dusty street was then as dark and empty as the poet’s chambers. Empty, that was, except for the red haired boy that stood staring with silent intensity at the poet on the balcony.

Nice ending!


Overall impression: The first part didn’t really hook me. I had to wrestle through the heavy descriptions. They are beautifully written, though, and the scene you set sounds intriguing!

Once the story finally does get going, it’s a very interesting read. There’s a good balance between flowery description and action in the second half of the story! I honestly can’t wait to get to the next part. I want to know more about this world you have given us a glimpse of, and about the character of Ganan.