hey
very well written if you ask me.
i didnt really find anything wrong with it except:
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own
story tellers should be one word
hope that helps,
skjold
EDIT: Thanks to my reviewers, the first draft of my story has been edited. It can be viewed here: [spoiler]I have asked the question thousands of times. I have answered the question thousands of times. Always, the question remains the same, and always the answer morphs into something more. Always the answer becomes more wonderful; more terrible. I doubt whether any of the answers represent the truth, but each one is in and of itself an exciting prospect. Each one represents a possibility. I have never been able to accurately gauge truth. I have never been too interested in gauging truths. How can I care about truths, when possibilities are far more intriguing; far more enticing? Maybe this is because with possibilities, you never really know what's going to happen. They always seem mysterious. They always seem dangerous...
I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. I do not know the true answer to the question that has plagued my mind for longer than I can remember, but I tell a story about one of the many possible answers. And since the answer is only a possibility, I can inject it with mystery. Since my tale tells only of possibility, I know as little of its truth as you do. I, however, look more closely at the converse: you can only tell me it's a lie as much as I myself can.
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. The question I ask is this: Is our world real, and if not, which master story teller gave birth to the idea of creating our world? My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
____
There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real. Within this mighty universe, lies a world far larger than our own. Blue rivers lie across this world’s surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. The archipelago stretches across all four corners of the world. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our world was first conceived.
The Order of Kavaria is the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana. Inside this religious monastery a relic lies. Only the elite of the Garuanaens know of its existence, and outside of the island Kavaria, knowledge of its existence is almost unheard of. In our world, however, its existence is known by even the lowliest of people. Inside of our world, though, it is not defined as a relic. Inside of our world, it is known as the world itself.
Inside the monastery’s library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and its title page contains only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and the name of its writer: Quirantino. Nobody knows who Quirantino was.
___
Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain-eagles. Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened. A notepad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were weathered. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. Two years after he had first visited the mountain’s peak, Baduin Quirantino, heir descended from the long Quirantino dynasty, left it for the final time. His lips were curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate.
The final chapter of the manuscript was complete.
Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.[/spoiler]
The second draft of the prologue follows.
Prologue
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. Have you ever asked yourself that one question? Do you know that our world is real? Do you ever wonder which master story teller wrote our story?
Many a time have I asked the question of myself. The answer to this question is one of possibility, and always, it morphs into something more. Something more wonderful; more terrible. I do not tend to worry whether each answer is true, because possibilities have always intrigued me so. Maybe this is because as long as there is doubt, there is always mystery. As long as there is doubt, there is always danger...
I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
___
There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real. Within this mighty universe, lies a planet far larger than our own. Clear blue rivers lie across its surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our universe was first conceived.
The archipelago stretches across all four corners of Garuana. The largest of its islands is known as Hyvria. Although geographically Hyvria is about twice the size of any other island in the archipelago, it is home to few. Most of Hyvria's inhabitants live alone, and any plans to colonize it have long since been abandoned. Archaeologists and historians alike have speculated that this is due to its treacherous landscape, which is almost entirely made up of mountains.
About fifty miles to the East of Hyvria, lies the smaller island of Kavaria. Kavaria is viewed by many traders as the most lucrative port in the East. But Kavaria is not merely a sailor's island. Kavaria also plays host to the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana: The Library of Kavaria.
Inside this library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and the worn cover holds only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and what is presumably the last name of its writer: Quirantino. Even the mysterious librarian does not know where or when the book was placed in the glass box in the library’s attic.
___
Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain eagle circling overhead. Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened, their deep blue invisible beneath the fog. A writer's pad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were a weathered yellow. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. He rose, fountain-pen tucked between his robes, and descended the mountain for the final time. Starlight Peak would never see another member of the ancient Quirantino dynasty.
Baduin Quirantino's lips curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate.
The manuscript was complete.
Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.
hey
very well written if you ask me.
i didnt really find anything wrong with it except:
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own
story tellers should be one word
hope that helps,
skjold
Hi
This was really good!
I couldn't find much wrong with it except you don't really put enough character detail or depth.
Also it doesn't have much actually happening.
Many a time have I asked the question of myself.
Okay, so my first impression with the title was 'Okay, this story is might be about a boy who dreams about giants?' and then, after reading your prolouge I felt like laughing at myself XD
Quite an amazing read, Yoda! That first sentence got me hooked but I do have one input about it, the first part of the prolouge was much more interesting in the first draft then the second, in my opinion of course. But, please take that into consideration.
I prefer if grammar and punctuation mistakes are found by the author and not the reader because it is a much better learnign experience, so I'm not going to point those out. *didn't find any >>*
This to me, seemed like a book I'd happily buy at a book store and sit in my bed and not put down until I was completely finished! Trully excelent.
--
Summer
Hi Villain here and I’ll be reviewing you
Well first off I must say even though I loved the introduction (it made me think) I didn’t quite understand it.
Many a time have I asked the question of myself. The answer to this question is one of possibility, and always, it morphs into something more. Something more wonderful; more terrible. I do not tend to worry whether each answer is true, because possibilities have always intrigued me so. Maybe this is because as long as there is doubt, there is always mystery. As long as there is doubt, there is always danger...
The manuscript was complete.
Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain eagle circling overhead. Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened, their deep blue invisible beneath the fog. A writer's pad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were a weathered yellow. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. He rose, fountain-pen tucked between his robes, and descended the mountain for the final time. Starlight Peak would never see another member of the ancient Quirantino dynasty
Hi, Master_Yoda, I've actually been meaning to review this work for a long, long time but never got around to doing it until now. ^^
I haven't read the other reviews, so if I'm bringing up a point that's already been trod on, feel free to ignore me.
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. Have you ever asked yourself that one question? Do you know that our world is real? Do you ever wonder which master story teller wrote our story?
Many a time have I asked the question of myself. The answer to this question is one of possibility, and always, it morphs into something more. Something more wonderful; more terrible. I do not tend to worry whether each answer is true, because possibilities have always intrigued me so. Maybe this is because as long as there is doubt, there is always mystery. As long as there is doubt, there is always danger...
I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real.
Within this mighty universe, lies a planet far larger than our own.
Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world.
It is in Garuana that our universe was first conceived.
Most of Hyvria's inhabitants live alone
Archaeologists and historians alike have speculated that this is due to its treacherous landscape, which is almost entirely made up of mountains.
Inside this library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end.
An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain eagle circling overhead.
The pages were a weathered yellow. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms.
Starlight Peak would never see another member of the ancient Quirantino dynasty.
Baduin Quirantino's lips curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate.
Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.
Hey. Looks like you have a ton of reviews already, so sorry if I repeat anything. I don't want to read every single critique.
This is an extremely well written prologue. Right off the bat, it grabs my attention and holds it throughout the entire piece, which is something not easily accomplished. So, well done! I like the idea of The Chronicles of Earth, although, I would consider changing the title to The Chronicles of Garuana, for obvious reasons. I think that it seems to fit well with the piece.
You brought up an interesting... uh... thing. You said that there was another universe. See, I always thought that there was always one universe, and within that universe was billions of different galaxies. I just thought that it was interesting that you stated there were more than one universe.
Remember when you create your own world, be sure to have clear differences between our earth and the earth in this story. You mentioned "clear, blue rivers." That's oddly similar to Earth. Why? Couldn't you use your imagination to come up with something just a bit more creative than something that already exists.
Just my two cents. Sorry this review is so short. It's just that you have a million really good reviews. But I will be continuing this story at least one more chapter. So.
-Jared
Have you ever read Clive Barker's Weave World? You should, if you haven't, simply because it is wonderful. Also, the beginning of it reminds me of yours, not in any specific way, but in a sort of general, stylistic feel (and being like Barker at all, naturally and not affectedly, is a great thing). In terms of the conception of the story as a whole there is very little I can yet comment about, simply because I haven't read enough yet. However, I am already convinced that it is going to be a great read.
I am not merely here to lavish praise, however. I like the philosophical ruminations at the opening passage (which, by the way, is reminiscent of the philosophies of David Lewis - you should definitely look into his theories of possibility), but I feel that you are posturing. I have nothing against posturing, I do it too, but slight changes of words will make you seem less patronizing and more earnestly contemplative (no offense, I don't think YOU are patronizing, of course, but, yeah).
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. Have you ever asked yourself that one question? Do you know that our world is real? Do you ever wonder which master story teller wrote our story?
The answer to this question is one of possibility, and always, it morphs into something more.
I do not tend to worry whether each answer is true, because possibilities have always intrigued me so.
I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
About fifty miles to the East of Hyvria, lies the smaller island of Kavaria. Kavaria is viewed by many traders as the most lucrative port in the East. But Kavaria is not merely a sailor's island. Kavaria also plays host to the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana: The Library of Kavaria.
I have one thing to say before continuing this critique: I should have read the prologue first. Since these opening paragraphs are in first person, the first chapter no longer seems so final.
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. Have you ever asked yourself that one question? Do you know that our world is real?
Many a time have I asked the question of myself.
Something more wonderful; more terrible.
Maybe this is because as long as there is doubt, there is always mystery. As long as there is doubt, there is always danger...
My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real.
Within this mighty universe, lies a planet far larger than our own.
Clear blue rivers lie across its surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks.
The archipelago stretches across all four corners of Garuana.
Inside this library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end.
Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened, their deep blue invisible beneath the fog.
A writer's pad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl.
He rose, fountain-pen tucked between his robes,
The Chronicles of Earth.
To tell the truth, I think that the first section is a little awkward. You might try seeing what the story feels like without it. Remember, your readers are smart, and don't need to be spoonfed.
I really like the idea you've got so far. Taking our world and making it the figment of someone elses imagination is definitly unique.
Keep it up.
I've gotta say, that was amazing! Completely and one-hundred percently amazing. The first sentence had me and I just couldn't stop reading! It seems to me that this is going to be awesome as you continue to write it!
Hope to see more!
-Autumn Silence
mimimac wrote:Hey, I'll be your reviewer today
Hey!
On the whole great job! The piece flowed very well, you kept me hooked to the story and wanting to read more. The only thing I would like to comment about is in some places where you did a lot of telling instead of showing. For example, where you said: The pages were weathered.
If you don't know what showing is, here is an example:
Telling:
Sam was very hot because he had just come back in from a very long and tiring game of football.
Showing: Sam's face glistened with sweat as he barged through the door with muddy sneakers on and a football tucked under one arm.
(Bad example but you sort of get the point... If you want there is a very good article about this in the 'knowledge base' part of the site.)
xxmimixx
Hi,
I really liked this piece. It flowed wonderfully, and the vocabulary level was great. I didn't notice anything wrong. Only the prologue doesn't seem to hint at anything much going to happen. Maybe if you inserted a little more action that would hint at something more, it would be better. But it was great! Keep writing!
Well done, this is much improved! A lot of the corrections I had to made were just grammar, so that is fantastic!
Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps it is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
The largest of it's islands is known as Hyvria.
Archaeologists and historians alike have speculated that this is due to its treacherous landscape, which is almost entirely made up of mountains.
About fifty miles to the East of Hyvria, lies the smaller island of Kavaria. Kavaria is viewed by many traders as the most lucrative port in the East. But Kavaria is not merely a sailor's island. Kavaria also plays host to the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana: The Library of Kavaria.
Inside this library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and the worn cover holds only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and what is presumably the last name of its writer: Quirantino. Even the mysterious librarian does not know where or when the book was placed in the glass box in the library’s attic.
Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened, their deep blue invisible beneath the fog.
Here is my review, as requested. My keyboard is being kind of tupid, so if I am missing letters just ignore my spelling.
Preamble: The very first part of your story was remarkably redundant and I felt like it didn't convey the deep thought-provoking discussion I think you were going for. Honestly, I felt like it just made your story drag on, which is bad, considering it was the first three paragraphs of your story. If you really want to keep this, I'd shorten it to read something like this:
I have asked the question thousands of times. I have answered the question many times. Always, the question remains the same, and always the answer morphs into something more. Always the answer becomes more wonderful; more terrible. I doubt whether any of the answers represent the truth, but each one is in and of itself an exciting prospect. I have never been able to accurately gauge truth. I have never been too interested in discerning truths. How can I care about truths, when possibilities are far more intriguing; far more enticing? Maybe this is because with possibilities, you never really know what's going to happen. They always seem mysterious. They always seem dangerous...
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real.
Within this mighty universe, lies a world far larger than our own. Blue rivers lie across this world’s surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. The archipelago stretches across all four corners of the world. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our world was first conceived.
In our world, however, its existence is known by even the lowliest of people. Inside of our world, though, it is not defined as a relic. Inside of our world, it is known as the world itself.
It is not dated, and its title page contains only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and the name of its writer: Quirantino.
A notepad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl.
Hey, I'll be your reviewer today
yrclever wrote:I have asked the question thousands of times. I have answered the question thousands of times. Always, the question remains the same, and always the answer morphs into something more. Always the answer becomes more wonderful; more terrible. I would change the phrase 'always the answer' to 'forever it becomes...' etc. Because you have already said something similar to the one you used and you should not have the word 'answer' two many times so close together as you have here. I doubt whether any of the answers represent the truth, but each one is in and of itself an exciting prospect.Don't understand this, maybe you should rephrase it? Each one represents a possibility. I have never been able to accurately gauge truth. I have never been too interested in gauging truths. How can I care about truths, when possibilities are far more intriguing; far more enticing? Maybe this is because with possibilities, you never really know what's going to happen. They always seem mysterious. They always seem dangerous...Good opening paragraph
I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. I do not know the true answer to the question that has plagued my mind for longer than I can remember, but I tell a story about one of the many possible answers. And since the answer is only a possibility, I can inject it with mystery. Since my tale tells only of possibility, I know as little of its truth as you do. I, however, look more closely at the converse: you can only tell me it's a lie as much as I myself can. Not too sure about that last line, did not seem to make sense to me. Maybe you should change it into something like: You can say it's a lie... I can't prove you wrong. Or something like that because it would make it sound cooler! But that's just my opinion.
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. The question I ask is this: Is our world real, and if not, which master story teller gave birth to the idea of creating our world? My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own.
With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities.
Wow! I know I'm supposed to be critiquing this but those last parts were awesome!
There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real. Within this mighty universe, lies a world far larger than our own. Blue rivers lie across this world’s surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. The archipelago stretches across all four corners of the world. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our world was first conceived.
The Order of Kavaria is the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana. Inside this religious monastery a relic lies. Only the elite of the Garuanaens know of its existence, and outside of the island Kavaria, knowledge of its existence is almost unheard of. In our world, however, its existence is known by even the lowliest of people. Inside of our world, though, it is not defined as a relic. Inside of our world, it is known as the world itself.
Inside the monastery’s library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and its title page contains only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and the name of its writer: Quirantino. Nobody knows who Quirantino was. Instead of writing 'nobody knows who Quirantino was', wouldn't it be cool to say something like: 'the unknown author' or something along those lines? Again... just an opinion.
___
Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain-eagles. Mountan eagle is not seperated with a dash... it's two wordsBaduin Quirantino’s eyes opened. A notepad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were weathered. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. Two years after he had first visited the mountain’s peak, Baduin Quirantino, heir descended from the long Quirantino dynasty, left it for the final time. That last sentence was very confusing. Change it into smaller sentences or rephrase it. Maybe to something like: 'Two years after Baduan Quaratino had first visited the moutain, he left it.' And then adding the 'an heir to the Quirantino dynasty' somewhere else because it stops the great flow you had going and confuses the reader! His lips were curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate.
The final chapter of the manuscript was complete.
Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.
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